by W. J. May
He spent so much time around the others that, most days, it was easy to pretend like he wasn’t. He never talked about it. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him drink blood. But the rest of the kingdoms weren’t so quick to forget.
He hated the side glances people gave him. The double-takes as he walked by. He’d never say anything to his father, of course. But most days, he would have given up his immortality in a second just to remove those eternal fangs.
“If you want to leave...we should do it now.”
Evie’s head snapped up in surprise to see that he was standing very close to her, pulling Ellanden over as well by the sleeve of his coat. His lips were barely moving, and his voice was so quiet that even the departing shifters wouldn’t have been able to hear.
The wolves were running down the side of the mountain.
The vampire lifted his eyes to the peak.
“We’re not going to get another chance.”
Evie and Ellanden stiffened at the same time. They hadn’t talked much about their secret plan since leaving the castle. Even when Cosette was sleeping, they’d kept it to themselves. Partially because they didn’t know how it would possibly work, and partially because they were terrified.
Could they really do it?
Leave their lives behind? Set off into the wild with nothing but each other?
They’d speculated a thousand times, dreamed about it since they were kids. They’d always been confident in the hypothetical, but now that the moment was upon them—they weren’t so sure.
“Right now?” Ellanden repeated, trying to keep the nerves from his voice. His dark eyes darted around the campsite, looking for openings. “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”
Evie stepped between them, taking a steadying breath.
“We’ll create a distraction. Something to keep the rest of them occupied while we—”
A sudden screech echoed through the forest. Something that wasn’t made by an animal, but wasn’t truly human either. For a split second, the campsite went perfectly still.
Then a horde of painted warriors came pouring out of the trees.
Evie stepped back with a gasp, holding tight to the boys’ hands.
It looked like they wouldn’t need to create a diversion after all.
They were under attack.
Chapter 8
“TAKE COVER!”
Evie stumbled back as the forest around her exploded with screams. A torrent of men was sprinting towards them, but they were men unlike any she’d ever seen.
Every inch of their bodies was covered in paint. Some were a ghostly white, with dark lines crisscrossing their faces. Others were black as the night. Still others were so thoroughly coated in crimson, it looked as though someone had held them up by the ankles and dipped them in blood.
They were heavily armed—with a series of spiked, brutish weapons—and, judging from the way they handled them, they knew how to fight. They never slowed speed. They just kept running.
“TAKE COVER!” the captain of the guard shouted again, drawing his sword at the same time. His eyes roved wildly over the chaotic camp. “GET TO THE CHILDREN!”
A barbaric shout echoed from the trees in front of him, and the next second five men leapt into the air—throwing him backwards against the wheel of the front coach.
There was a frantic clash of weapons, then all was still.
Seven hells.
Evie jerked back like she’d been shocked.
The captain had been a younger man—thrilled to receive the commission. She remembered the day he’d been knighted by her mother, his own had been watching in the crowd. She caught a glimpse of him through the stampede of boots—a splash of golden hair, trailing along the ground.
The three friends froze in unison. Then Ellanden went pale.
“Cosette.”
No sooner had he breathed the word than he was sprinting back to their carriage, shoving his way through the mayhem and pushing aside anyone who got in his path. A ferocious-looking man leapt towards him with a scream, wielding some sort of serrated club, but he was immediately silenced by the three arrows sticking out of his throat. The princess lifted her eyes to the trees where a cluster of fae archers were picking off the enemy with a grim efficiency, felling them one by one.
“Cosette!”
Ellanden reached the coach. The little princess was huddled inside, hands clamped over her mouth, tears streaming down her face as she pressed her nose to the window. Her older cousin glanced around the clearing, preparing to lock her inside and defend the carriage with his bare hands. But, as it turned out, the warriors of Taviel weren’t the only ones who’d brought bows.
The moment he turned a volley of flaming arrows shot towards him, peppering the carriage and lighting the whole thing aflame. His arms flew up beside him, pinned to the door by the sleeves.
“Landi!” Cosette shrieked, banging against the window with all her might.
The prince gasped quietly as the fire spread up his shirt. The flames moved with unnatural determination, spurred on by some kind of enchantment. The core of them glowed green.
The sight of it unfroze his friends.
“Come on!” Evie gasped. “We have to help them!”
She and the vampire took off running at the same time, but no sooner had they moved than five horrifying men sprang up in their path. They had cloaks and spears and swords, but other than that it was impossible to pick out any defining feature. Their faces and hands had been smeared with the same dark paint as the others. The only thing that shone through were their eyes.
They were wild eyes. The stuff of nightmares.
“Don’t run, little ones. We’ve only just arrived.”
The princess froze where she stood, looking down at the tip of a blade pressed against her chest. Asher was standing right beside her, his long fingers wrapped around her arm.
“Look—they’re shaking,” one of the men laughed, elbowing another. He added his own blade to the mix, combing it through the vampire’s dark hair. “And we haven’t even drawn blood.”
“There’s still time,” another murmured, twirling an axe.
“Did you see the royal crest on the carriages?” The one in front of Evie took a step closer, using his blade to inch down the top of her dress. “They’ll fetch a fine price.”
...price?
It felt like a lifetime, but only a few seconds had passed.
Ellanden still had one arm pinned to the burning carriage. However, considering the fact that multiple parts of him were on fire, he was managing to stay remarkably calm.
“Get down on the floor and cover your head.” He yanked the other sleeve free from the arrows, losing his shirt in the process. “Listen to me, Cosette—now.”
The little girl could hardly hear him over the roar of the flames but she hastened to do what he asked, dropping to the velvet floor of the carriage and holding a cushion over her ivory hair.
The second she was down, he punched straight through the glass—knocking away the stray pieces before lifting the little girl to safety. She coughed and choked as he raced them to the trees, quite oblivious that his friends were being held prisoner, then she suddenly leapt from his arms.
“My pony!”
He whirled around in shock but was immediately knocked backwards by a man over twice his size, bearing down upon him with a sword taken from the body of a dead guard. The blade whizzed through the air, missing him by inches as he stared desperately after the child.
“Cosette, forget the damn—”
But she was already streaking back across the clearing, ducking under blades and leaping over bodies as she made her way to the burning coach. For a terrifying moment, she disappeared inside. Then she emerged triumphantly, clutching the little toy in her fingers.
“I found—”
Then a shadow fell over her and she finished with a scream.
The man was part giant. He had to be. There was simply
no way that massive frame and over four hundred pounds of muscle could be human. He was perched atop the burning carriage like some oversized bird of prey, looking down at the little princess with a wicked smile. The second she screamed he leapt into the air with a mighty bellow, crushing the coach and shaking the ground beneath her feet.
She let out another terrified cry, but her body refused to move. She simply stood there as he stalked forward then picked her up by the back of her dress, dangling her in the air like a doll.
“NO!”
Ellanden shouted something in Fae that Evie recognized as the word ‘archers’, still fighting against the man holding him back. A volley of arrows shot from the trees, but while most of them glanced off the giant’s armor the ones that managed to bury into his shoulder only made him mad.
The fae leapt down from the trees instead, blurring silver beneath the moonlight as they flew towards the stricken princess. But no one was close enough to get there in time.
The giant was toying with her now. The way a cat dangles a mouse.
“Such a pretty thing,” he mused, swinging her back and forth. “Like a little doll.”
She slashed upwards at his wrist with her toy, and he let out a laugh.
“Feisty, too.” He pulled her closer suddenly, twirling a lock of her wavy hair. “You know, little girl, these roads are dangerous. Your family really shouldn’t let you travel alone—”
He stopped quite suddenly, staring down at the blade coming out of his chest. A second later Ellanden circled in front of him, a murderous fire blazing in his eyes.
“But she’s not alone,” he said softly.
The man who’d tackled him was lying in a pool of blood on the far side of the clearing. The archers racing towards them actually froze in their tracks, staring at their prince like they’d never seen him before. The giant dropped the princess with another deafening cry, but her cousin whipped a blade from the creature’s own belt and thrust it through the roof of his mouth.
“Deep breaths,” the fae whispered, leaning close enough to smell the blood as the giant sank to his knees. “I’ve heard that’s a particularly painful way to die.”
With that, he ripped out the blade—silencing the creature once and for all.
It was a turning point. One that made Evie remember something very important. Something that years of living in a gilded prison surrounded by guards had almost made her forget.
They didn’t have to wait for reinforcements.
They could fight.
As if they had rehearsed it, she and Asher moved at the same time. One flipped backwards, away from the blade digging into her chest; the other leapt straight over the heads of the men holding them prisoner, landing lightly on the other side.
“Mind if I borrow this?” He whipped a sword from a random belt, twirling it in his hand before the owner even had a chance to turn around. “Mine are all still packed.”
Without another word, the two friends sprang into action.
Evie grabbed a bow off a fallen royal soldier and started shooting down targets, one by one, whilst Aidan used to sword he was holding to impale two people at once, skewering them against a nearby tree. Meanwhile, Ellanden had managed to find himself another blade and was whirling around in the middle of the clearing with Cosette clinging to his back like a monkey.
A swarm of painted mercenaries swept towards them, but this time they didn’t freeze or shy away. This time they charged forward with a scream.
Considering how much the princess had trained, it was nothing like what she expected. To start, these people didn’t pull their punches like her instructors back at the castle. But she didn’t pull her punches with them either. When a painted swordsman leapt on the back of a woodland archer, she didn’t hesitate before firing an arrow straight into the back of his head.
In her periphery, she saw him fall down. In the back of her mind, she knew that he was dead. However, despite the profound weight of that statement, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Evie!”
She looked up to see Asher pointing at two men with hatchets running towards a wounded member of the royal guard. The man lifted his sword weakly when he saw them coming, but they fell to the ground a moment later—the princess’ deadly arrows piercing their hearts.
Although a vampire had no use for conventional weapons, Asher was sticking with the sword. Granted, he’d taken to using it in rather unconventional ways. One second, it was spinning around in his hand. The next, it was flipping through the air—burying itself in someone’s chest. At times, he stabbed it like a knife. At times, he threw it like an arrow. At one point he hurled it into the trunk of a tree, launched himself off the hilt, then spun acrobatically through the air—landing in front of two more men just to snap their necks with his bare hands.
Ellanden had quickly developed a similarly fantastical way of killing people. One that stood in direct contradiction to things like gravity and pain.
Even though the fae had burns over the top half of his body, he was flying around with a deadly sort of grace that was far more reminiscent of a dance than a slaughter. As if in slow motion people charged towards him, then fell to the ground with crimson sprays by his feet. There wasn’t a delay between thought and action. The borrowed blades were mere extensions of his arms.
It wasn’t long before the fight itself was winding down. In truth, Evie had no idea how the painted men could have expected any different. They were vastly outnumbered and fighting against a caravan of royal bodyguards. It was a suicide mission from the start.
I wonder if this changes things. Evie leapt onto the back of a man painted pure crimson, strangling him with the curve of her bow. I wonder if our parents will order us home—
But even as she thought the words, the princess froze dead still.
Whether this changed things or not, they didn’t want to go home. They wanted to leave, to take off into the woods and see whatever destiny had in store. And after the attack...
...they would never get another chance.
As the man crumpled beneath her, she leapt gracefully to her feet—staring around in a kind of daze to survey the clearing around her. Sure enough, the battle was almost over. The painted men who remained were just moments away from retreat.
Already, some of them were staring to run back up the mountain—away from the wolves racing up from below. It was the wisest course of action, considering the firepower beneath them.
In fact...it was the only way to go.
“Landi! Ash!”
She’d never know how they managed to hear her over the din of the battle, but both men lifted their heads at the same time. They took one look at her face and knew exactly what she was thinking. When she pointed up the slope of the mountain, they silently understood.
“Neirae!”
A Fae warrior pulled himself immediately out of the fight and materialized by his prince’s side. Every immortal was unspeakably lovely, but there was something frightening about this man as well. A little feral. As if he’d spent more time on a battlefield than he had sleeping in his own bed.
“Look after the princess,” Ellanden commanded. “I’m placing her in your charge.”
A single look at the man in question and Evie was convinced it was a good decision. She’d want him watching over Cosette as well. But the little princess had opinions of her own.
“No—Landi!” she wailed, and tightened her grip around his neck. “I want to stay with you!”
His eyes tightened, but he reached over his shoulder and forcibly pried her off his back. She writhed and fought but he held her gently, brushing back her hair with his thumbs.
“You’re going to be safe with him,” he promised, kneeling down beside her. “And he’s going to be safe with you. I’ve watched you every second on this battlefield. You’ve been so brave.”
She stared back at him with watery eyes, holding tight to his hands.
“I’ll see you right after?” she whimpered.
“We can still ride in the same coach?”
Ellanden glanced down quickly, covering his face with his hair. A moment later, he was back in control—kissing his cousin on the forehead before passing her into the hands of someone else.
“I promise.”
The two of them disappeared a moment later as Neirae carried her off into the trees. The fighting was all but finished, and most everyone was gone. The remaining painted warriors were fleeing into the trees, but the friends knew instinctively that the royal troops wouldn’t follow. They were on defense—protection detail. They would defend the royal heirs at all cost.
And that meant the royal heirs had to leave right now.
“Are you ready?” Evie whispered, flitting to Ellanden’s side. “I already grabbed our weapons from the back, but the ones in the carriage were too badly burned—”
“Your Highness!”
The two friends whipped around to see a tall man barreling up the mountain. He had a tangled mess of dark hair, and a wolfish gleam was still fading from his eyes.
Evie did some quick thinking, then gestured back down the hill.
“I’m fine—I’m with Hastings.” She pointed to the carriage as if the guard was right on the other side; from the Belarian’s vantage point, he wouldn’t be able to see any different. “Help carry the wounded. We’re regrouping at the bottom of the hill.”
Mace paused a moment, considering, then nodded quickly and headed right back down the way he’d come—straight towards the cries of the injured soldiers.
Perfect timing. A moment later, Hastings ran up from the other side.
“Your Highness!”
She froze for a split second, then did the exact same thing.
“I’m with Mace. Get back to the lieutenant. We need to make a plan.”
He hesitated as well. For a suspended moment, she was terrified that he wasn’t going to listen. Then he dismissed himself with a bow and vanished amongst the trees.
The second he was gone, she turned back to the prince.
“You were right. We’re going to hell.”
Asher was beside them a moment later, appearing out of thin air. His skin was flushed and there was something different about his face. Something the others had rarely seen before.