by Cait Marie
“Where are the healers?” Phillip shouted as they dragged him toward a tent that had been erected once the fighting began. As if they’d heard him, two people ran out to help bring in Andrew.
“We’re getting slaughtered out there,” Shane said as they headed back to the battlefield. He pulled Phillip to a stop. “There has to be something more we can do.”
“Like what?” Desperation coated Phillip’s tone. “Unless Ada and Lee kill Michel and manage to call an armistice—assuming anyone would even listen—we’re out of options.”
When he started returning to the fighting, blade drawn, Shane joined him. They threw themselves back in, but his mind still turned through all he knew about war and Rayerna. There had to be a weakness somewhere.
“What was the backup plan?” he asked between strikes.
“What—” Phillip grunted as he took down another man, “—backup plan?”
“Surely there was something.” Shane parried off two soldiers, moving to stand back to back with Phillip.
“If there was another plan, don’t you think I would’ve told you?”
Shane turned, blocking a blow to Phillip’s side. Before he could say anything, a horn sounded from the south. “What was that?”
“Ships…” Phillip said, sounding stunned. “More troops are coming.”
His mouth turning dry, Shane stabbed another soldier—the last immediately surrounding them. He took that brief pause to run toward the crest of the nearest hill. Phillip cursed but followed. At the top, Shane looked to the sea, squinting across the sparkling water. His breath left him, his lungs refusing air as much as his brain refused to believe what he saw.
At least a dozen ships had come toward shore. Already, countless longboats headed their way. Shane’s knees shook, straining to keep him upright. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. They were already outnumbered, now… there was no chance of even retreating. They were surrounded unless they ran into the hills to the west.
Phillip put an arm around his back. “Breathe.”
“I can’t.” Shane shook his head. “There’s no way out of this. We’re all going to die.”
Shoving his sword in its sheath, Phillip grabbed Shane by both shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “No, do not give up on me now.”
“Look around us,” Shane said, throwing out his arms. “We barely stood a chance as it was—”
Phillip’s lips crushed his own, cutting him off entirely. His husband’s hands went to either side of his face as he leaned away. “Ada is still fighting to get to Michel. Some of the Rayernan soldiers know the truth. Together, they can call an armistice.”
“It’s too late.” Shane hated the defeat in his voice, but he could no longer fight that darkness. For so many years, he’d struggled against the despair, never letting it control him. But now, with so little hope, he was consumed. His chest was too tight, his heart pounding. He felt as if he might pass out, and for a second, he thought at least then, his death would be painless.
“It’s never too late. Do you hear me?” Phillip’s sharp tone surprised him. “There is still hope.”
Shane swallowed, trying to breathe. The horn sounded in the distance once more, this time closer. The incoming forces would reach them soon. Phillip waited, holding him while he took a few deep breaths. He kissed Shane once more, then he drew his sword once again.
“Together?” he said, his voice softening.
The king tightened his grip on his own blade and nodded. They’d go down together. “Always.”
“Shane!” a voice called. “Phillip!”
They looked over to find Brienne running toward them, jabbing her sword toward the new soldiers. Shane opened his mouth to tell her they knew, but then he noticed she didn’t look as distraught as them. No, she seemed to smile as she neared.
“Look!”
Shane whirled back toward the shore, his heart racing. The troops had made it to shore and grew closer. Close enough to see the green and blue flags littered throughout the thousands of men and women. He nearly collapsed with relief. It wasn’t more Rayernan troops.
“He did it,” Shane whispered, letting out a sigh.
The rest of their army had arrived.
Chapter 35
Adalina
The incline leveled at the top to provide relatively even ground. Four men spread out, blocking Ada’s way to Michel, but she met his eyes around their broad forms. Lee still fought the others at the base of the hill. More and more diverted from the main battle to go after him. Somewhere in the distance, Ada heard a loud horn, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the task at hand. Whatever happened down below, her brother would have to deal with it.
“Adalina,” Michel said, crossing his arms in a leisurely pose that did not belong on this field. “You should not have come after me. Surrender, and I will have them spare you. I will call off my forces, and this whole thing can be finished.”
She thought about those massive battalions taking down her men, slaughtering them. Her friends and family were down there. Dying. And she had the power to end it all.
“Just surrender and hand over the lost prince.”
She withdrew Ddadwneud, grinning at his words and taking a deep breath. He knew Loxley was the lost prince—knew this was about more than Michel breaking the treaty. With a dagger in each hand, she shook her head. “Never.”
“Ada, please.” True concern flitted through his gaze. “I know you’re skilled but look around. You’re outnumbered, sweetheart.”
She flipped one of the blades up, watching it turn end over end before catching it again. All while her other hand twisted Ddadwneud around, twirling it this way and that. For this, she would need more than one weapon ready. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
With that, she lunged. She slid to her knees, tossing her spare blade into the nearest soldier. These men didn’t wear the heavy armor of those down on the field. As if they hadn’t truly expected the fight to reach them. Her blade easily stuck into the man’s inner thigh, and he fell with a grunt. While down, she yanked another small knife from her ankle sheath and jammed up into the next man’s gut.
The other two moved toward her, but she snatched up one of the fallen men’s swords and blocked the first advancement. Adrenaline coursed through her. She got to her feet, fighting both off. One of them got past her, slicing through her sleeve and the skin of her upper arm. Yelling, she turned away.
Lee shouted, and she could see him struggling to get to her from the bottom of the tall hill, but she didn’t have time to watch or think about the pain. She blocked another blow, striking with the dagger in her opposite hand. She hadn’t wanted to kill the men, but she needed to get to Michel. With a quick tumbling move, she stuck her sword clean through the final soldier’s leg. When he fell, she pulled her sword out and quickly disarmed him.
She turned to look around. The first man she’d brought down attempted to get back up. Standing, she moved closer, easily blocking his halfhearted swing and stabbing him in the other leg with Ddadwneud before kicking his sword from his hand.
“Stay down,” she removed the blade and wiped the blood on his pant leg, “or I will put this through a more vital part.”
He blanched, falling back to the grass, and she grabbed the first dagger, balancing both in one hand and her sword in the other.
Ada turned, trying to catch her breath as she faced the man she had loved not all that long ago. Michel stood with wide eyes, one hand on the pommel at his side. She took a step forward, ignoring the burning in the back of her throat. Tossing her sword to the ground, she switched the blade of undoing to her dominant hand.
Michel held both hands palm out toward her. “Ada, please. Don’t make me fight you.”
“Call off your men.” She was thankful the words came out strong.
“I can’t do that,” he said. “You know I can’t.”
She nodded, anticipating he’d say that. “You made a mistake. Two, actually.”
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“And what’s that?” He reached down to pluck a short dagger from a sheath opposite his sword. They’d have to get closer with the shorter blades—make it a more intimate fight.
“Not only did you severely underestimate me,” she said as they began circling one another, “but you failed to notice I didn’t fatally wound two of these men.”
His brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Two men who heard you admit the lost prince is real and here.” The corner of her mouth twitched up into a mischievous smirk—one she’d learned from that very prince. “He’s at the bottom of the hill, fighting his way up here to take what is rightfully his. And these men now know the truth. As do the dozen you ordered to stay at the cannons. The ones we let live.”
True shock entered his eyes. “A dozen out of thousands won’t make a difference.”
“It will if there is already doubt. You cannot threaten an army to fight in a war they don’t believe in and expect them to stay by your side if there's a chance for something else—something better.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed, inching closer.
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but a kernel of doubt mixed with hope is a very powerful thing.”
Michel made a low grumbling noise, then he moved. She’d trained with him for years and knew his tricks and tactics, but he also knew hers. Their blades met overhead. With Ddadwneud, she aimed for his chest. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted.
Screaming, she dropped the blade. She thrust her head forward, crashing into his nose. Michel shoved her away, and she gratefully scrambled back, shaking out her sore hand. Ddadwneud sat on the ground between them. She shouldn’t have been using it; she should have kept it in its sheath where it was safe.
She tried not to let her fear show. Did he know its power? Did he know it was the only known blade in this world that could kill her and Lee?
Spitting a mouthful of blood to the side, Michel glanced to where she looked. Both dove for it, but Michel was closer. He grabbed it, striking up at her. She blocked him just in time and rolled away. When she pushed back up, the sight before her nearly took her breath.
Behind Michel, strolling in as if this was expected, was her father.
Her heart sank, and she quickly looked to see that he had indeed brought the remaining forces they needed to overturn this battle. The question was, on whose side did they fight? Her father had worked with Michel, ensuring Detmarya remained in control as they had for the last century and a half. But Michel wasn’t happy with the arrangement their ancestors made. He wanted the power he believed rightfully belonged to him. Did her father know that?
Would he care?
Ada had brought down her father’s plans. She’d stood beside Shane as they imprisoned him. She wondered briefly how he had escaped.
Michel still faced her, blade raised. Then, he charged. She fought him off, parrying back and forth. His strikes became fiercer than she’d ever seen him. He was unrelenting, and now that he had two daggers to her one, she couldn’t match him. It was all she could do to keep blocking while trying to back away. Her father disappeared from view, and though it concerned her, she couldn’t take her eyes from Michel.
One of his blades nicked her in the shoulder, and she let out a huff. If she could get to one of the other weapons on the ground, she might be able to take the advantage. She tripped over the legs of one of the soldiers, landing on the dry grass. Her remaining dagger fell out of reach in the commotion.
Ada looked up at Michel towering over her as she scrambled back on her hands. She heard Lee shouting below, but she knew he wouldn’t make it to her in time, even if he managed to break through the remaining soldiers surrounding him.
“I’m assuming this dagger holds some significance, considering the rose on the handle,” Michel said. His tall form blocked out the sun, turning him into nothing but a silhouette as her eyes readjusted. “Adalina, we could’ve been happy together.”
She continued inching backward, searching for anything to shield herself or fight him off. When he took another step closer, she kicked out, but he moved out of reach. With Ddadwneud aimed toward her heart, he leaped.
And another figure jumped between them as the blade came down. Ada screamed as it struck home.
Her father hit the ground hard beside her.
“No,” she whispered. But there wasn’t time to process what just happened. He was already pulling the dagger out of his chest and tossing it to her. She snatched it out of the air easily.
“Finish this,” her father said, his chest heaving as blood began to pool beneath him.
The blood that would set her and Loxley free.
Chapter 36
Loxley
Legends were written about the great immortal Loxley. He’d fought in this war before, and in the hundred and thirty years since, he’d never forgotten the feeling of taking so many lives at once. After the war, after he escaped the lost island of Cyfrin, he’d thought he would never face such battles again. He’d vowed to never get involved in the affairs of any kingdom, instead living at sea and helping those in need.
Yet, here he was. Fighting who he now knew were his own men. Though, he assumed most of those coming to Michel’s defense would not be loyal to another king. Even a rightful heir.
Loxley never wanted this life. But for her—for his fierce, blue-eyed princess—he’d take on the world. He saw her defeat the four soldiers at the top of the hill, and part of him wanted to cheer for her. But then, she went toe to toe with Michel, and he knew this fight was different. This was someone she knew. Someone she had loved. It wouldn’t be easy for her, but Loxley didn’t doubt her abilities.
Then, he saw her fall, and his world slowed. She was immortal, so he knew against a normal blade she’d return to him without a problem. Michel had picked up Ddadwneud when it flew from her hand though, and Lee knew she wouldn’t survive that. Not when the prophecy claimed the dagger would end the curse, undoing their immortality.
Letting the fear of losing her consume him, he pierced his sword through one oncoming soldier, then another. Over and over, he attacked, but more kept appearing. He twisted, trying to make his way up to Ada. Somehow, over the noise of all the fighting, he heard her gasp. His ears attuned to her very breath. He whirled around, but he couldn’t see her. All he saw was Michel pointing the dagger down and walking slowly with his eyes fixed on the ground.
She’d fallen. Stars above, the clumsy princess had fallen. And Loxley hadn’t been there to catch her.
“No!” He shoved away from the nearest soldier but couldn’t get free of the onslaught. His heart felt as if it might burst from his chest. There was nothing he could do.
With a malicious smirk, Michel moved. But a figure darted between them, taking the blade in her place.
Loxley didn’t know where the man came from, and he hadn’t seen his face, but he knew who it was. Though it was why he’d freed her father, Loxley wondered if he’d actually come. Before setting sail, he’d gone through the tunnels and forced his way into Emyr’s rooms. He’d recalled the former king’s eyes when he learned of his daughter’s sacrifice—of the way he claimed everything he’d done was to protect her—and knew there was at least some truth to the man’s words. Loxley had promised him his freedom if he would use it to convince the remaining fleets to aid them in this fight.
Loxley told him about the prophecy, begged him to take the place of one of his children on that field, but he didn’t know if Emyr would. He’d assumed the man would flee and only hoped he’d at least send reinforcements.
Ada’s scream pierced the air.
With a thrust, Loxley twisted his blade into one soldier while kicking at another. He ducked down to avoid the glint of steel nearing his head. When he came back up, it was with a grin as he noticed a familiar face making its way to his side.
“Didn’t I order you to stay behind?” he yelled to his best friend.
Brienne whipped a dagge
r past his head. He didn’t even flinch. They knew each other’s every move. He turned to grab the weapon sticking out of the soldier’s throat and jammed it into the side of the next attacker.
“What, and miss the fun?”
He snorted. “I need to get to Ada.”
“Go, we’ll hold them off!”
“We?” That was when he noticed more approaching. He’d thought more were coming after him, but then he recognized the man from the cannons he’d spared. The soldiers who knew the truth were there, fighting on their side. Last he knew, they were headed to the castle to warn the others of a possible attack. With them were a handful of rebels too. How they all ended up here, he didn’t know.
“I’ll explain later,” Brienne shouted, as if reading his mind. “Go!”
The men began clearing him a path. More soldiers attacked them, bringing down some of their own. One of the rebels—Brandi, Loxley remembered her telling them back at the castle—stepped in front of him, taking a blade to the stomach as she killed two others. It gave Loxley an opening, and he didn’t hesitate.
He raced up the hill to find Ada facing off with Michel, the enchanted blade back in her hand. On the ground, Emyr lay bleeding. Loxley wanted to go to Ada—to kill the imposter king who’d broken her heart and started this war. The man responsible for so much death. But Loxley knew Ada needed to do this. She had the blade of undoing once more. She had the skills to defeat a single man. It was up to her to end this.
Instead, Loxley moved to her father’s side and knelt in the grass. The man’s chest barely moved with breath, but he was still alive. Loxley put a hand over the gaping wound above his heart to stop the bleeding.
“Don’t,” Emyr said, his eyes fluttering open.
