Chapter 156
ATASHA’S POV
“Your Highness… I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Grace said, settling beside me on the carriage bench. Her hands were tight around the strap above the window, knuckles pale.
“I know,” I answered, watching the road sway under the lantern. “You’re right.”
We were already rolling out from the northern outpost, wheels thudding over the packed earth toward the gates. Dawn was a pale line on the horizon, the kind of light that makes everything look colder. The horses kept a steady pace, and the driver’s silhouette bobbed with each rut.
Grace blew out a breath. “It’s dangerous to travel at this hour. You didn’t sleep. You’ve been burning through your strength, and we don’t even have an escort. If anything happens-”
“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to her. “I shouldn’t have dragged you with me. I’ve been impatient and pushing too hard. It isn’t fair to you.”
Her expression softened, but the worry stayed. “You needed answers. I understand that. But answers are harder to use if you fall over before you reach the gate.”
I didn’t argue. She was right. If I’d been less impulsive, I would have thought through the timing, the route, the watcher on the gate who would report to Cassian the second I left.
If I’d been less impulsive weeks ago, I would have asked Agape about the Stone before I announced anything. I would have sat with the risk until my head cleared. I would have weighed what the test might do, not only to me but to the man tethered to my spine by a bond I still didn’t fully understand.
Instead, I made a string of decisions on the speed of a heartbeat: to heal, to announce, to prove, to carry. It felt righteous in the moment. It felt necessary. Now all I could see was the cost lining up in front of Cassian like a debt he never asked me to owe.
The carriage rocked as we took a shallow rut. Grace’s shoulder bumped mine. “When we reach the gate,” she said. “You will go straight to your rooms, bathe, eat something, and sleep. I’ll tell the kitchens-”
“I’ll try,” I said, and meant it. Obviously, I am going to rest, after I talk to Cassian.
Then out of nowhere, the horses snorted. The pace suddenly slowed. A second later the driver hissed an oath. The carriage lurched to a halt hard enough to throw us forward.
Grace reacted before I did. She grabbed my shoulders and shoved me down along the bench. “Stay down-”
Before I could even process what was going on, a sharp whine cut the air. An arrow punched through the leather shade where my head had been a breath ago and quivered in the opposite wall.
We both froze for a half–second, staring at the shaft. The horses screamed and stamped. The carriage pitched as something thudded against the wheel.
“Inside,” Grace ordered, already reaching for the door latch with one hand and for the short sword at her waist with the other. “Don’t move.”
My mouth opened on instinct to argue. Another impact snapped the frame, this time into the driver’s board. A heavy shape toppled outside with a dull, wet sound.
“Grace,” I said, but she was already out, dropping to the road with her blade drawn.
There were no guards with us. I had insisted, thinking secrecy and speed would be protection enough. That was my mistake, and it was too late to fix it from a seat.
I pulled in a breath, slid across the bench, and pushed the door open after her.
Cold air rushed in. Dawn was lifting, painting everything in gray. The road ran empty in both directions, no carts, no riders, just the line of brush and the darker edge of the treeline beyond. The driver lay slumped against the wheel, an arrow through his shoulder. Alive but moaning from the pain. The horses tossed their heads, harnesses clattering, eyes wide.
“Back in the carriage,” Grace snapped without looking, stance low behind the front wheel, using the body of the carriage as cover. “They want you, not me.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not going to sit where they expect,” I said, dropping beside her and flattening my back to the wood. “If you’re the only wall between me and an archer, then I’m safer near you.” Obviously, I also wanted to be there, in case the archer hits Grace, so I could heal her.
“Your Highness-”
“Later,” I said. My heart hammered. I risked a glance around the wheel well. The arrow had come from the right, there was a thin puff of dust hanging in the road in that direction and a clean line through the dew on the grass.
A second shaft hissed past, skimming the top edge of the carriage and burying itself in the ditch. The angle was higher this time.”
“Tree line,” Grace said under her breath. “At least two. The first shot came low, second from a perch.”
“Distance?”
“Far enough they don’t want to be seen. Close enough to aim for your throat if you stand.”
Good news, then. I wouldn’t be standing.
Then Shapes broke from the treeline. First there were two, then five, then more. They were wearing dark coats, hoods low, faces half covered. They didn’t bother to hide once they saw we were alone. A few strode straight down the road while the others fanned wide through the brush, confident in their numbers.
I gritted my teeth.
“Stay close to me,” Grace moved before they finished spreading out. She vaulted the wheel, cut the closest man across the forearm to ruin his grip, and kicked his knee out from under him in the same breath.
He dropped, and she drove her knife up under his ribs, then ripped it free and turned on the next. Steel rang as she caught a blade on her guard, shoved, and followed through with a slash across a throat. She didn’t waste motion. She didn’t call warnings. She carved open distance and used it.
Two came at me from the right, fast and sure, trying to split me from Grace. I snatched the driver’s short sword from the carriage rack, felt the balance, and shifted my stance behind the wheel hub.
The first swung low. I stepped back, let the are pass my thigh, and brought the pommel down on his wrist. The second lunged for my ribs. I quickly turned my hip and felt the kiss of air where steel should have been. Then, I snapped the short sword up across his knuckles and drove my shoulder into his chest to knock him off his line.
More figures spilled from the brush–eight, ten, maybe more. They weren’t pack soldiers. They moved like hired cutthroats who had trained together just enough to stay out of each other’s way. The ones on the flanks kept firing to pin us; the closer ring pushed hard with steel.
Seeing this, heat suddenly rose under my skin. It was a steady pressure that gathered behind my eyes and in my hands. I should have wanted to run, but something in me smoothed out instead. I could hear the fletching on every arrow. I could smell iron before blood even hit the ground. It wasn’t anger, it was a clean line through my chest that said take them down and keep moving.
A smile appeared on my face.
The next man rushed towards me, mouth open on a cheer he didn’t finish. I stepped into him and drove the short sword up under his ribs. Heat splashed my wrist. He folded around the blade and slid off it, and something inside me clicked into place like a lock turning.
Another came at my back. I didn’t think. I pivoted, caught his slash on the flat, and cut low through tendon. He screamed and dropped. I stamped once on his throat to shut him up. The sound cut off fast. The world narrowed to targets and paths. Every breath tasted like iron. My hands were steady and I wanted another swing, another break of bone, another throat to open.
Suddenly, something inside me was calling for more blood.
“Your Highness-” Grace’s warning was somewhere to my left, too far away to matter. Three more sprinted down the road. I met them halfway, cut one across the mouth, trapped the second’s wrist and ripped his knife free, then buried both blades in two chests and kicked the third into the wheel hub. He hit hard and fumbled for air. I crouched, grabbed a fistful of his hood, and slammed his face into the rim until the wood ran red.
I looked up and the rest finally hesitated. Good. Let them see. Let them understand there would be no bargain today.
“Come closer,” I said, smiling wider than I should have. “I’m not done.”
