Page 11 of The Twisted Throne

Falling to her knees, she gasped in several mouthfuls of clean air, still coughing hard.

She needed to get William out. Needed to keep him alive so that he could stop the battle. Twisting, she hurled herself back into the cave opening.

Only to collide with William’s solid chest.

He fell backward, and she landed on top of him, both of them coughing, eyes streaming tears.

“You…need…to stop…the…attack.” She could barely get the words out.

To his credit, William nodded and rolled out from under her, on his feet in an instant. “Which way?”

They’d come up inside the market, and she raced toward the nearest shipbreaker, seeing its crew taking aim at the Harendellian ship.

“Stop!” Ahnna screamed, throat burning from the smoke as she shoved the two soldiers manning the breaker away from the mechanism. “Send the message down the line to stop shooting at them!”

“But they’ll get inside our range! They could take the pier!”

“Stand down!” she barked, and because he looked like he might argue further, she added, “That’s an order.”

You have no authority to give orders any longer,a voice whispered in her head, but it was easy to ignore as the soldier lowered his hand from the release mechanism. The other man picked up a signal horn and blew a series of notes relaying her order to stand down.

William had shouldered his way through the mass of Ithicanian soldiers and was sprinting down the debris-strewn pier. Sliding to a stop, he waved his arms, attempting to catch the attention of the attacking ship.

The scene fell silent. Ahnna clenched her teeth as she strode down to the pier, searching for signs of Aren or Lara while she waited to see what the Harendellian ship would do. Whether they had seen their prince. Whether it was enough to stop the attack.

Then the ship ran up a white flag.

Lowering his arms, William turned. His eyes locked with Ahnna’s, and her stomach flipped at the intensity of his gaze.

Whoever had painted the portrait she’d been given truly hadn’t done him justice, for he was remarkably handsome. Barefoot andclad only in breeches and a shirt, his fancy coat discarded in the water, there was no mistaking the thick muscle that spoke to a life spent wielding weapons for more than just sport. Sunlight glinted off copper-colored hair clipped short, as was common in the Harendellian military, but long enough that it curled down over his forehead. His cheekbones were high and his jaw strong, his clean-shaven chin sporting a dimple that softened his tense expression. Not the princeling everyone said he was. Not even close.

“Is it safe for them to approach?” he called.

Ahnna nodded, even though she didn’t have the authority to allow it. William inclined his head, then turned back to his ship to wave them closer.

It was only then she realized that the eyes that had met hers hadn’t been green.

They’d been as amber as a setting sun.

What a bloody, blinding messof a situation.

Holding his position, James watched theVictoriaapproach, coming up on the opposite side of the great stone pier from where his own vessel had sunk, still-burning debris littering the gentle swells.

So many lives lost, many of them his friends.

But he couldn’t focus on that right now.

The moment the gap between ship and pier narrowed, dozens of his soldiers jumped over the rail, led by George, his lieutenant and friend. They encircled him, their weapons held at the ready as they stared down the watching Ithicanians, including the woman who’d saved his life.

He didn’t know her name. Yet God help him, the vision of her suspended in the water, hand outstretched toward a shark three times her size, would be burned into his mind until the end of his days. Entirely fearless, a woman whose equal he’d never met in his life.

“Come, Major General! We need to get you to safety.” Georgie tugged at his sleeve, trying to get him aboard the ship.

James only waved away his friend with irritation. “Stand down. This was Amarid’s doing. They had men disguised as sailors on our ship who took control for long enough to bring us up against the pier, where more Amaridians were hidden in wine barrels.”

“Ithicana may have conspired with Amarid,” Georgie insisted, gripping his arm this time. “This could be a trap.”

Pulling out of his friend’s hold, James again locked eyes with the Ithicanian woman. She’d knocked him overboard before the explosion, nearly getting herself killed in order to save his life. “It’s no trap. Ithicana is innocent, and blame for events rests on Amarid. Stand down and sheathe your weapons. My father is expecting me to return home with a princess bride, and I can’t imagine the Ithicanians will be keen to give her over after this display of ineptitude on our part.”

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