Leon and I set out with two hundred and fifty troops each. Likely an excessive amount for what Nokto had reported, but I was taking no chances. We marched through the night, keeping a steady pace with no intention of stopping until we reached Flandre’s barony. Shortly after dawn, scouts reported three horses incoming at high speed. One was Clavis’ chestnut. I gave orders to let them approach. Clavis’ horse was lathered in sweat when he pulled up beside Leon and me.
“It’s confirmed,” he gasped, as breathless as his steed. “The fort has been fortified and is guarded by two hundred men, but they were only just called up. I couldn’t get in, but she’s there. And it’s not good.”
“Got it. We’ll take it from here,” Leon said. “Now get back to the palace and get some rest. Sariel is working with the others to draft a treaty. We’ll be back soon - with Ivetta.”
Clavis nodded, and then he said darkly, “It better be soon. From what I hear, Flandre has cracked, and his dungeons are seeing a lot of use lately. Nobody who goes in makes it out alive.”
I’d been seething silently since Clavis first started his report. Something snapped inside me at his last words. I kicked my horse into a gallop, Leon’s voice caught by the wind and whipped away from me.
Time was of the essence if she were to live. And she had to live.
But, unlike Flandre, I was unwilling to run my horse into the ground. A dead horse would do me no good. Mine would have kept up the breakneck pace I’d set, if I asked him to, but I finally reined him in around lunchtime. We’d reached a small stream, and I dismounted so we both could get a drink before we continued.
He’d been my mount for eight years now; I’d selected him in Jade after retiring my previous mount due to old age. Nobody had dared contradict my choice, though nobody understood it. The white stallion that caught my eye had been completely wild from birth, and as a two-year old, he was thought to be untrainable, worth nothing except as a stud. But I saw potential in him. He was massive, as strong as a draft horse but with finer bone structure, capable of great speed, afraid of nothing, and remarkably intelligent. The perfect steed for battle, if I could train him. Which I’d never done before, but I’d read enough books on the subject to give it a try. Traditional training methods hadn’t worked on him, anyway; if I went with something a bit unconventional, who was to say it wouldn’t work?
“Are you ready, Blade?”
He stamped a hoof impatiently and snorted.
I chuckled and patted him on the neck. “Then let’s go.”
Licht was the best with horses of any of my brothers, but Blade had never responded to Licht - or anybody. For months, I’d sat in the pasture with Blade, reading, until eventually he came to me on his own. The day we bonded was the day I first touched him. I was reading, as usual, and he came over to me and started nuzzling at my hair. I reached up without a thought to push him away, but when my hand touched his soft muzzle, he leaned into it. Training progressed quickly after that point, and he became as much a necessity to me on the battlefield as my sword.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I murmured thoughtfully as the countryside passed us by. I sighed and released the reins, lying back across his broad back and interlacing my hands behind my head. He kept up his pace, going in the same direction I’d told him, as I expected. In times of peace, I took him out once every week or so for a long ride like this. I’d neglected him since Ivetta arrived at the palace.
She’d enjoy a ride like this, with the warm sun beating down on us and the quiet solitude of the scenery. I’d have to take her out with Blade one day. He would accept her, if I told him to. I could imagine her seated in front of me, my arms wrapped around her waist, the wind whipping color into her cheeks as her green eyes danced happily.
But this wasn’t a casual ride. Romance had to take a backseat to bloodlust. A few hours at this slower speed so we were both refreshed and ready for battle, and then I urged him into a gallop again.
It wasn’t long before the dark stone walls of the fort loomed ahead, and I pulled him back into a trot. He was champing at the bit, sensing my growing anger, but I knew better than to rush in headlong.
“Soon,” I promised.
I pulled him up within sight of the guards at the front gate just before sunset, safely out of reach of any traps along the walls, close enough for my voice to carry but not for arrows to easily find their mark.
“I demand to speak with Baron Flandre,” I shouted.
“Who are you?” one of the guards shouted back.
They really were green. He’d probably called them up from the commoners living within his barony, young men who were handy with a plow but not a sword.
“Prince Chevalier Michel, second prince of Rhodolite.”
Even at this distance, I could see the guards begin to shake at my words. One of them disappeared inside the fort. Many long minutes later, the guard returned - alone.
“Baron Flandre is otherwise occupied,” he shouted, a tremor in his voice. “But he has given me a message for you.”
I grit my teeth. The coward couldn’t even face me.
“If you surrender yourself now, he will release-”
The guard stopped himself, reluctant to continue, obviously terrified.
“Say it,” I snapped.
“He will release what’s left of your mistress. If not, she will die,” the guard finally said, his voice trailing off toward the end.
“Then I have a message for you and the other men here,” I replied, my voice frigid even as my blood boiled. “An army of five hundred Rhodolitian knights is on its way to raze this place. Bring me Baron Flandre’s head within the hour, or prepare to die.”
I turned Blade and trotted away, blood rushing and pounding in my ears.
What’s left of her.
I was all too familiar with torture, and I knew how to tailor it to an individual for the greatest effect. Civilized rules of warfare stated that women were off-limits. If it were absolutely necessary to use force to question someone like a maid, or a supposed mistress, very little physical harm should be required. But Flandre was making his own rules. I needed to prepare myself for the worst.
Pounding hoofbeats in the distance signified Leon’s arrival with the army. I reconvened with him immediately.
“We attack tonight.”
“It’s too dark already, and the men are too tired. There will be too many casualties,” Leon argued.
“She may be dead by morning, Leon,” I said vehemently. “Flandre’s troops barely know how to hold a sword. We can’t wait.”
The muscles in Leon’s jaw worked as his amber eyes flashed. “You gave them an hour to bring us Flandre’s head, right? Not a lot of time to rest, but it’ll have to be enough.”
“You,” I barked, getting the attention of the nearest knight. “Have the men ready for battle. Tell the doctor to set up his tent.”
“Yes, sir!”
Leon and I finalized our plans as we waited. The minutes crawled by, and then we got our answer - two heads lobbed over the walls at us. Flandre’s own guards.
I was already seeing red, and I smirked in satisfaction as I drew my sword. “Stay out of my way, Leon,” I said, my voice colder and more threatening than even I’d ever heard it.
“You’re gonna go berserk, aren’t you?” he asked, his amber eyes hardened and predatory as he drew his own sword. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that.” He, too, grinned. “Can’t say we didn’t warn them.”
The battle began, and as I’d expected from Clavis’ and Nokto’s reports, Flandre’s green troops were no match for the experienced knights set before them. My sword cleared a path far ahead of even Leon, breaking the enemy lines and penetrating the fort walls, and still I made no effort to check my rage. Blade and I were covered in blood within a matter of minutes, not a drop of it ours. She was in the dungeons. I reached that point on my own and dismounted, sparing one man - the informant, the cook, the traitor. He cowered at my feet, begging for his life.
“Get up,” I snapped, kicking him hard in the side. “Take me to her.”
He hurried ahead of me down the cold, dark corridor, bearing a set of keys and a torch. The flames flickered across the walls, throwing our shadows in weird relief, only revealing a fraction of the area at a time. I saw the blood first, puddled on the floor, splattered across the wall behind her. I sucked in my breath in horror. She hung limp from the ceiling, her wrists chained above her head, her bare feet barely touching the stone below. When she lifted her head and looked at me, only her green eyes were recognizable for all the swelling and bruising. And the blood - so much blood. She’d lost far too much blood. It covered every inch of her, staining the shredded remains of her dress, matting her hair.
This wasn’t just excessive force. This was pure sadism.
“On your knees,” I commanded, snatching the torch from the traitor and shoving him down to the ground. He was sobbing, begging for mercy, but my sword was already in motion-
“No.”
Her soft, weak voice echoed through the air, stopping my blade less than an inch from the traitor’s neck. My eyes snapped up to hers as I clenched my jaw. I shouldn’t listen to her. This was the man who’d abducted her. He had to die.
“Please.”
But I couldn’t ignore her request, the plea in her green eyes, no matter how foolish it was to comply. I sighed and lowered my sword.
“Get up,” I ordered.
The traitor climbed unsteadily to his feet, tears streaming down his face.
“Stop your blubbering,” I snapped. “And be grateful to the lady for the few extra minutes of your miserable life. Unlock her.”
I didn’t like this. He had no weapon on him - I’d checked before bringing him down here - but both of my hands were occupied with my sword and the torch. His hands shook with terror as he stood between us, blocking Ivetta from sight, fumbling with the key. Finally, her wrists were free, and he grabbed her as she fell, dropping the keys and whirling to face me. He had a knife at her neck. A knife that was already covered in fresh, bright red blood. Her blood.
“Sheath that sword, or she dies!” he shouted, a cornered animal grasping at his last chance for escape. “Now take the torch with your right hand, and hold your left hand up where I can see it.”
I had no choice but to obey. Her green eyes flicked to my sheathed sword, the torch in my right hand, back to my eyes. She thought I was disarmed. So did the traitor.
“Thanks for being such a doll and holding onto this for me,” he snickered in her ear.
Her blood was soaking into his shirt. He’d stored the knife on her, probably in her belt at the back of her dress - or what was left of it. And he’d inflicted yet another wound retrieving it. I wanted to seize that knife and cut him to pieces, but not now. Not yet. I had to keep calm, think logically. My mind ran through the calculations, how much time I would need to get my left hand to the hilt of my sword, the time for the draw, the time needed to close the distance between us.
“Now back up, slowly,” he ordered me.
I did so, keeping my eyes on hers as he held her in a vice grip, her feet dragging across the floor, the cold, sharp metal at her throat. All I needed was a split second. Maybe two. Certainly not three.
Booted footsteps echoed down the stone corridor behind me.
“Stand down,” I shouted back over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off of her.
The footsteps stilled. The traitor’s hands shook, the knife biting into her neck, a fresh trickle of bright red blood rolling across the dried, dark brown blood crusted on her skin.
Too much blood. She had already lost too much blood; she couldn’t afford to lose more.
“Chevalier?” called Leon, his voice echoing down the corridor.
“Fall back to the fourth line,” I called.
It wouldn’t be long now. This was just one of the codes Leon and I had worked out, and this would provide the opportunity I needed.
“Got it,” he called back.
The footsteps hurried away, masking the sounds of him taking cover in one of the rooms off the main corridor.
“Good, you’ve got the idea,” the traitor said, his voice tinged with madness. “Now keep moving, slowly.”
She knew. I could see it in her eyes. Even weak with blood loss, her mind was still working, and she knew that I’d used a code. She knew I was just waiting for the right moment. And she trusted me completely. I’d failed her miserably, and still she trusted me. This time, I would see to it that her trust was not misplaced. No matter what I had to do.
Our slow progress continued, and then Leon stepped out of the shadows, sword drawn and at the traitor’s back.
“Release her,” Leon growled.
He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just cut the traitor’s arm off, disarming the man and making him at least loosen his grip on her. But Leon’s warning startled the traitor, and the man took a sharp breath and swung around, slamming his back into the stone wall, Leon on his left, me on his right, slowly closing in on him.
“Stop right there! Don’t come any closer! If you want her back alive, you’ll do exactly as I say!” His grip around her waist tightened, and the knife cut deeper. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. Leon and I stopped. The knife wasn’t deep enough for such a reaction. She had broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung.
“There are five hundred soldiers out there waiting for you. Release her and we may spare your life,” Leon ordered angrily.
This was it. The traitor was panicking, his hands trembling. Less than a minute until I killed him. Less than a minute until I had her back in my arms.
She was struggling to breathe.
“Last chance,” I said sharply.
He hesitated, and then he pulled the knife away from her neck and shoved her forward, bolting for the exit. I threw the torch at him as I drew my sword, grabbing her with my right hand and yanking her to my chest as his clothes caught fire. He got off a partial scream before my blade severed his neck and sent his head flying against the wall. I sheathed my sword and scooped her up, careful not to hold her too tightly, painfully aware of each rasping breath she took. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move a muscle, her bloody cheek resting limp against my chest.
“You’re safe now, Ivetta,” I murmured.
She didn’t respond. Leon took a single glance at her and bolted for the exit.
“Hey, get the doctor! We need the doctor now!” he shouted.
“No,” I shouted back. “There’s no time for that. Get my horse ready.”
I wanted to run, too, but I was afraid of jostling her. This was worse than I’d imagined. I could never have prepared myself for this. She may still die. I may have been too late. She may have lost too much blood, may have too extensive internal injuries. I forced myself to walk at a steady pace, all the bloodlust and anger evaporated in the face of intense fear. It was an unfamiliar sensation to me. I may have found her, just to lose her.
Leon was waiting with Blade just outside the dungeons.
“Drop the reins,” I instructed. “He won’t go anywhere. Here.”
I carefully passed her to Leon’s awaiting arms, and her green eyes shot open.
“No,” she whimpered, clutching desperately at my shirt, her eyes wide with fright and pain.
“It’s alright. Leon’s going to take you for a moment,” I said reassuringly, gently prying her hands loose.
“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.
Her frantic words stabbed straight through my heart, rendering me frozen and speechless.
“He’s not,” Leon said, pulling her away from me. “I’m just holding onto you while he mounts his horse, and then I’m handing you back to him. Promise.”
She tore her gaze away from me to look up at Leon, and I was able to move again. I mounted quickly and reached down for her.
“I’m ready.”
“Alright, up you go,” and then Leon was lifting her up to me. I slipped my arms under her as gently as I could, pulling her to my chest and cradling her against me. Her wide green eyes never blinked as she stared up at me. I didn’t even let her touch Blade or the saddle. She needed to be jostled as little as possible. I carefully removed one arm from her long enough to turn Blade as I urged him into motion.
“Blade, let’s go. Fast.”
“I’ll save the baron for you,” Leon shouted behind us.
“Don’t bother,” I shouted back, dropping the reins and wrapping my other arm securely around her again. “Finish cleaning up.”
Flandre’s punishment couldn’t wait, and I didn’t want him anywhere near her - which is where I was going to stay until I knew she’d be okay. Leon was angry enough to handle Flandre appropriately. And she was significantly more important than revenge.
She was still staring up at me, as if she was afraid to look away. Her back was sticky with blood from her fresh wound.
“Just hold on,” I murmured. “Not much longer.”
“Prince - Chevalier-” she gasped.
“Be quiet and save your strength. We’ll be at the hospital tent soon.”
“Please-”
“I won’t leave you,” I said quietly, pained by her frantic desperation. “Never again. Close your eyes.” I lightly touched her eyelids, and she obediently closed them. “Get some rest, little dove,” I whispered.
She shuddered, and her breathing eased as her beaten face relaxed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, watching her chest to ensure it continued to rise and fall. Blade came to a stop in the middle of camp on his own, jolting me back to my surroundings.
“You,” I shouted at the nearest soldier, “take her. Carefully.” I passed her down and leaped off Blade, taking her back as soon as my feet touched the ground. “Tell the doctor. He’s seeing her first,” I ordered the soldier, forcing myself to walk instead of run to the hospital tent. The soldier bolted ahead of me.
“No!” I heard the doctor’s angry voice as I entered the tent. “I see my patients in order of who is most injured, regardless of rank or-”
He cut himself off with a gasp when he saw me holding Ivetta’s limp, bloody body.
“Put her down here,” he instructed. His fingers were immediately on her neck checking for a pulse.
“She’s just asleep,” I said, taking a deep, shaky breath. “And I’m staying with her.”
“Fine,” the doctor said briskly, laying his supplies and instruments on the bed next to her. “I’ll need an assistant, anyway.” He let out a deep breath. “But she may not make it.”
“She has to,” I said vehemently.
“I’ll do my best, but I can’t work miracles,” the doctor snapped. He glanced up at me, and his severe expression softened slightly. “What’s her name?”
“Ivetta,” I said softly.
He nodded. “Well, Miss Ivetta, you heard the prince’s orders,” he said cheerfully to her limp form as he started to tend to her wounds. “You have to pull through this.” He glanced back up at me and added, “Prince Chevalier, if you have anything you’d like to say to her, now would be the time. She may still be able to hear you, and it may help. A lot of this is going to be down to her.”
I swallowed, holding her hand tightly. I knew what he was saying. Her injuries were extensive enough that she should already be dead. The elusive ‘will to live,’ something that couldn’t be pinned down with logic but had shown itself to me time and time again on the battlefield, was all that was keeping her going. And if she could hear me - if I could fuel that, give her a reason to keep fighting - then I had to try.
This wasn’t how I wanted to tell her.
I leaned in to whisper in her ear: “I love you, Ivetta. Please stay with me. I need you.”
A tear fell on her cheek, swirling in her blood.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHooDou5u6D
