I was taken aback by the way she quickly drew herself into a wide-legged stance, the sword held upright, next to her chin. It was hard to imagine this poor girl could fight—not with that hair swept up with wildflowers, those pristine clothes, and that soft look to her . . . a look I’d seen before—but at least she knew how to hold a sword properly.
I stood there, a heartbeat away from laughing at her, but the cold stare of her eyes told me that might be a mistake. Instead, I unsheathed my own sword and planted my feet, nodding my head as an invitation. In a flash, she was charging, swinging both hands down hard, like she hoped to lop off my arm. I blocked her and spun, amused.
She, however, was far from amused. She was enraged. She charged back at me, wielding her sword again with two hands. She swung with abandon but not recklessly; she almost certainly had held a sword before. Staring me down, she pulled at her stays, trying to adjust her dress, and she seemed frustrated that her skirts were in her way. But, even encumbered, she was light and fast—a decent opponent.
I didn’t bother attacking, instead letting her come for me. Eventually, she would wear herself out, and I could grab her. Around us, I heard the sounds of swords clanging, catching sight of Inigo in my periphery as he dashed after one of the guards. Between the advantage of a surprise attack and our training, we had the upper hand. In the meantime, she pressed on, slashing down and across and any way she could manage. Whenever I expected her to drop her sword, tired of the apparent weight, she steeled herself and came back again. Time after time after time, hammering it down as if she were nothing but a cage of anger with the door finally let open.
She just. Kept. Going.
Eventually she stopped swinging and started stabbing, hoping to get through my blocks. I had long expected her to tire, but instead she surged at me again. As if she was only just hitting her stride, she took the sword in one hand and whipped it around with a flourish. Adjusting her grip, she charged at me, and I had to hop back on both feet to avoid being run through.
I looked down and saw that she’d torn a seam. That was close. Looking at her determined gaze, I realized I was going to have to do more than defend myself.
I spun and slashed, catching her off guard. She blocked me well enough, but now that I was trying, she was on edge. I went for her sword, not her, hitting it over and over, hoping to loosen her grip or, at the very least, frighten her into submission. After a few minutes of the onslaught, the poor girl lost her footing, slanting down on one knee.
When she slipped, she looked up at me with such disappointment, and that particular look in that particular set of eyes was so familiar it stopped me in my tracks. I knew those eyes. They had haunted me for years.
In my stupor, she jumped to her feet, raised her sword, and slashed down, clipping me and cutting across my upper chest. I growled in pain, and then, like a child retaliating after a slap, I swung, cutting her left arm. She cried out and dropped to her knees, grasping her bleeding wound.
I took my opportunity.
I lowered my sword so the tip was inches from her neck. “Drop your weapon.”
She stared up at me, like she was genuinely thinking about saying no. But then she looked around. Apparently, she didn’t see much point in carrying on.
She dropped her sword, and I pulled mine away.
“Stand,” I ordered, and she did, though the look in her eyes said she hated to do it. I was used to fear or trembling, though I’d expected quiet dignity from her.
I wasn’t prepared for thinly veiled rage.
I pulled the rope from my hip belt and started tying her hands. Shackles. That would have been smart to bring.
Once the girl was taken care of, I surveyed the rest of the group to see if my help was needed. Sherwin was on top of one guard, while Inigo had bound another. In the distance, Blythe and Andre were walking a third over to us.
“Is that everyone?” I called.
“Yes. One of the guards is dead,” Andre reported.
The girl made the tiniest sound of sorrow.
“And what about him? Do we take him?” Inigo asked, pointing to the gentleman passed out on his horse.
“No. Didn’t you notice?” I said, staring down at the girl. “He didn’t even look back for her. He’s useless.”
There was more heartbreak in her eyes, and it stung in ways that didn’t make sense. I reached into my bag and pulled out the gauze. I wrapped her arm hastily to keep it from bleeding everywhere.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
There was the quiet dignity.
Inigo came up beside me and spoke in a low voice. “What exactly did we just do?” he asked, his voice brimming with anger.
“They’re from Dahrain,” I told him.
“How do you know?”
“I know,” I replied firmly. “Three guards. What do you think they’ll tell us once we do a little convincing?”
He quietly considered this, then nodded his head at the girl. “And that one?”
“I have plans,” I told him.
If those words scared her, she didn’t let it show. The others moved to get the guards on their horses, hands bound and eyes downcast.
I lowered a hand for the girl’s boot. “Up.”
She gripped the saddle, ready to hoist herself up.
“Your Highness—” one of the guards called, and my heart stopped as those few words confirmed everything I feared. “We’re sorry.”
At that, she shoved my arm aside, looking back over my shoulder to see the three remaining guards chewing something. Within seconds, they fell to the ground, foaming at their mouths. Then they were dead.
“No,” she whispered. “Not like this. Not for me.”
I gripped her good arm. “Do you have whatever they took, too? If you do, hand it over immediately.”
There was a single disappointed tear rolling down her cheek. She shook her head somberly, still looking at the men on the ground.
“I’ll have you searched.”
Her eyes never wavered. “I’d love to see what you find.”
“Now what?” Inigo demanded.
My mind whirled. By the maps, we hadn’t even touched Dahrain, but somehow I’d gotten their princess. This proved that an invasion was easier than we’d been led to believe. It also proved that I had the guts to go where my father had walked, and I could come out of it alive. And a princess was bound to have information we needed. If this wasn’t a kind of hope, then I didn’t know what was.
“She will be enough,” I said, trying to assure myself just as much as the others. “If we want a shot of getting to Vosino tonight, we need to leave now. Let’s go.”
I got the princess on my horse and climbed up behind her. Sighing, I pulled on the reins and started us off toward home.
