Page 83 of The Trials of Ophelia

“I know, Shadow. I know.”

I looked at the Seawatchers’ lookouts, then back to the battle below. Moonlight caught on the flick of a long white braid, and my stomach turned over. Mila, no longer on her mare, cut a path through warriors with a sword in each hand and blood streaked across her face. Despite them being larger than her, despite some of them still being seated, she took out one after the other as if fueled by an unholy rage. Those ivy cuffs—not usual vambraces—glinted in the moonlight.

You stay at the back.

As I warred with indecisiveness, Mila pierced one sword beneath a warrior’s ribs. She withdrew it, but not quickly enough. Her opponent kicked a boot into her stomach, right in the center of the steel cuirass that hugged her frame tighter than any armor I’d seen before.

She stumbled backward, but stayed upright.

“No fucking way,” I seethed. I wasn’t going to sit here and watch like a helpless child while everyone fought down there.

“Come on.” I squeezed my calves against Ombratta’s ribs, and she tore down the incline, a Mystique mare finally entering her fight. She towered above most of the other horses, leaving me stretching down for some blows but giving me an advantage for others.

Spirits, I’d forgotten how freeing it was to fight from horseback. I’d only ever done it in training, and not often then, but the leverage I gained from up here and the connection with my mare—not much matched it.

Ombratta fell in line with the other horses of various clans as if the spot had been saved for us. Few of their warriors had pushed this far through our front line.

That—

“Fuck,” I screamed, focus shattering as searing pain shot through my leg.

A dagger was lodged in my calf, a tiny thing, no more than three inches, wedged above my boot.

A few Engrossians had made it past unnoticed. They’d snuck below sightline, dispersing quickly after landing their blows.

I left the weapon in as Ombratta turned around, not wanting to remove it when I couldn’t be sure what was punctured. She pursued the Engrossians up the hill, and the center point of pain called to me, stealing my attention.

My vision blurred. Warped and twisted, leaching all color from the night until everything was a mess of shades of gray.

They were right before me, but I couldn’t be sure who was whom. Ombratta kept up the chase, but I was useless. I tried to lift my borrowed sword but was afraid to swing it. What if I hit a Mystique?

My chest tightened, the relief from being on horseback once again replaced by crushing irrelevance.

“Not again,” I muttered under my breath, defeated. Fuck, I’d been so close. I could almost feel my mind shutting down now. Like orbs of mystlight popping out one by one.

Get your act together. This was the risk I took running down here. I knew it—I swore I was ready.

You lied.

Anger bubbled within me, and I swayed atop my horse. My mind was too addled from my torture.

Maybe it always would be.

Maybe training would never help.

Maybe I was meant to be on the side lines forever.

Fine. If the Spirits wanted me there, that’s where I’d stay.

“Let’s go back, Ombratta.” I barely mumbled it, but she was up the hill and back in the stables before I could finish reprimanding myself.

“Where in the Spirits did you go?”

I didn’t even have time to react before hands were gripping the front of my tunic. I’d changed out of my leathers after returning to my tent and dunking cold water over myself to calm my racing thoughts, every intention of going back out to help after I collected myself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking down at Mila’s eyes burning with fury.

“I should ask you that!” she roared, her fists beating my chest with each word.

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