Page 102 of A War of Three Kings

I drop my wield, struggling to breathe.Almost immediately, Fynbar slides to the side and drops off his horse. I catch a glimpse of him clutching his stomach, blood pouring from where it has been sliced through, and then he is gone.

Everything within me screams to turn back and go to him. That he might still be alive. That we could save him. But a stomach wound and a fall from a galloping horse is a death sentence.

A glance over my shoulder shows the same force banking sharply and following us, joining the other band already in pursuit on our flank. Ahead, hundreds of cavalry stream out of the open city gate. I lean forward over my horse as it swallows up the distance to Windkeep at breakneck speed.

Arrows whistle overhead as we near the outer wall, landing among the enemy. The column of the Windkeep Guard parts in two and channels around us. The warriors hardly glance at us as they race for the enemy. Relief crashes hard through me, and I am thankful for the Appleshield colors and crests on the uniforms of my guards—they screamed our identity and saved our lives.

The two forces collide behind us with the clash of metal and screams of soldiers and horses alike. I focus only on the yawning mouth of that gate and the salvation beyond. We slow to a painful trot as more soldiers stream out around us, and then I am leading my steed into the city with my band of guards. I dismount, calling out to the guard to be ready to ride out again.

Windkeep’s Captain of the Guard strides straight to me, looking me up and down. “Lady Caitlin Appleshield?” he asks.

I raise my chin and look up and up at the impossibly tall man. “I am the Mother of Magic Keira, the second daughter of Appleshield. We need your help.”

“Help beyond cutting down the enemy on your back?” He gestures toward the fields outside the gate. I flick my eyes in that direction, to where the royal warband flees from the city guard, the grass littered with their bodies.

I turn back to him. “Yes. The High Priestess, a group of Mothers of Magic and druids are all hiding within those woods, alongside our injured. They need an escort to bring them safely into the city. I didn’t have enough soldiers to do it on my own.”

The captain’s face pales at the word of all those priestesses in danger. “You will have my aid as soon as my soldiersfinish dispatching this rogue band.” He turns on his heel and immediately barks orders.

I accept a canteen of water as healers flood us. When three hundred city guards stream back into the city, smiling with triumph and splattered with gore, their captain glances at me and orders them right back out again.

“We have encountered a few bands of the enemy’s raiding parties since Fort Blackrock fell. My watch is always at the ready.” He rides next to me as we leave the city, insisting on personally escorting the High Priestess.

“Do you have news?” I choke on the words.

He shakes his head. “Very little. Only one pigeon from your father, informing me of the retreat. You are the first to arrive.”

We do not encounter any other raiding warbands as we reach the forest and extract my charges. Our progress back to the city is slow as the injured are carried in carts. A shiver runs through me as I consider them. Had I decided differently, there is no way those people would have survived the mad dash we made across these plains with the enemy on our tail.

I negotiate for scouts carrying pigeons to be sent out to look for Caitlin’s party, and as soon as she is found in the late afternoon, an escort of two hundred guards leaves immediately to bring her to the city safely.

Another night passes, and by dawn I am pacing the wall again with Caitlin at my side, staring out to the south, where Aldrin, our father and our entire army are fleeing for their lives.

Time passes slowly. Despite the crispness of the autumn morning, I am covered in cold sweat. Some instinctual part of me tries to reach out to Aldrin, to feel the warm embrace of his presence, but there is nothing. Alarm bells ring in my head and anxiety sparks throughout me, but how could I have expected anything other than this?

The horizon darkens like a shadow has fallen over the ground. I squint toward it, almost convinced it is a trick of the eye, but it resolves into moving bodies with banners held high and the tips of spears glinting in the watery sunlight. My heart freezes as they march toward us, the green, gold and bronze of their ranks announcing their identity. A tear rolls down my cheek when the Appleshield banners become decipherable.

Caitlin turns to me and laughs. “They made it! They actually made it!”

I throw my arms around her and pull her into a hug, the hardness of her protruding belly between us.

My smile slips as I notice a band of soldiers galloping far ahead of the main army, with a dozen people on foot keeping up with the horses. A fae escort. My blood turns to ice and my legs become weak.

Something is wrong.

I race down the stairs that hug the outer wall and into the open square that will receive them.The party gallops inside within moments, and I push through the soldiers that race for them. My father is in the center of that group, his emerald eyes wide as he tosses his head around.

“Healers! I need healers!” he roars as his mount prances nervously beneath him. Those frantic eyes find me as I reach him. “Where are the druids and priestesses?”

It is in that moment that I realize my father is riding in tandem. That he holds a limp figure against his chest. There is so much blood across the man’s wounded face that his features aren’t easily recognizable, with bits of flesh blown away and an ear half gone.

But I would recognize him anywhere.

The angles of his beautiful face beneath the gore. The set of those wide shoulders with his distinctive armor of spiked plate across them. Those horns that appear whenever he uses largeamounts of magic, now broken on one side, and the streaks of black war paint beneath the blood.

Time seems to stop. My father’s mouth still moves as he shouts for help, but I can’t hear him anymore. All I can see is Aldrin on the brink of death. I gravitate toward him like an invisible string yanks me there.

My hands shake as horror floods my brain. My heart twists as his eyes flicker open, falling on me for a heartbeat before rolling back into his head. I am flooded with agony like I have never known before, but there is also a burning up the side of my face and ear. Like his wound is my wound. I reach for him and his blood drips on my hand before I touch him.Then I am clutching onto Aldrin for dear life while my vision blurs with tears.

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