Page 113 of The Enemy's Daughter

“You don’t have to do this,” I beg. “Please.”

His face sneers in frustration as he strikes his flint harder. Sparks explode off his knife, and I cry out as a flame ignites.

There’s no time for one last glance at Tristan. It happens in the split of a second.

This is it.

But then my executioner falls against me, as if he lost his footing. I wait for the pain to hit. For the bite of heat. The agony. Seconds pass, and I feel nothing. Have the flames been smothered out?

The man pulls back, his eyes pained, then peers down at his chest. The triangle of an arrow protrudes from the left side of his vest, directly over his heart. Blood seeps around the edges. He took an arrow to the back. My mouth drops open as he falls to his knees, then completely over, dead.

Who fired?

Yelling erupts around me as Gerald and his men try to figure out the same. I scan the people, then the trees and thick bush of our property line. Something moves to my left, drawing my attention. It’s Vador, back ramrod straight. He looks like a general as he observes from beside a tree, away from the crowd. But it’s not himholding the bow. Samuel squats below him in the bush, nocking a fresh arrow.

They’re here!Tristan!I call to him.We’re—

My words cut off as a thud hits the tree next to my thigh. I flinch. My gaze flicks back to Samuel. His lips twitch in annoyance. The arrow he nocked is gone.

Did he just fire at me?

I watch, helpless, as he draws another arrow from his quill and takes aim again, staring me down. I tense. Try to angle my body away from him.

“What are you doing?” Tristan yells from across the yard. I’m not sure if he has a view or if I’ve sent him all that I see. “Samuel! No!”

But then I understand exactly what’s going on. The elite guard is here to rescue Tristan.

And kill me.

This is their retribution for the attack they believe I carried out on them. Samuel told me himself he’d make this happen. They believed Annette.

Samuel lets his next arrow fly, and a cry rips from my throat as I’m struck in the hip. Bright red blood wells up around it, a stark contrast against my white dress. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it didn’t have to be. It’s Samuel’s arrow.

Poison.

Tristan fights his way to his knees despite being held down. “What have you done?” His voice breaks on the last word.

“There!” Gerald yells, pointing with his gun. “They’re in the trees!” He fires once, but a volley of arrows soars through the air from deep within the forest and high up on the cliff. Peoplefall—mostly Maska soldiers—as they’re struck with astonishing precision.

Gerald is hit, too, in the forearm and side, but he remains on his feet. “Attack!” He fires again.

The sting of the arrow in my body is both fire and ice, burning me from the inside and sending me into shock. I can’t get enough air.

Gerald throws his gun when it stops working, then grabs his bow, aiming for the trees, his face wild as more and more of his men fall next to him. As the losses grow, some Maska lay down their weapons, then raise their hands in surrender. The dozens of remaining people in the yard cower, awaiting their fate.

“Show your faces, you cowards,” Gerald yells. “Come and fight us like men.”

The crowd quiets as if waiting for a response.

“Set our men free and we won’t kill every last one of you,” Vador calls. Only the edge of his profile is visible from behind a tree.

Gerald grimaces. “You want your men? Come and get them.”

“Wrong answer,” Vador yells.

More arrows launch from the trees like a swarm of birds divebombing the ground. Gerald is struck again, this time in the thigh. One of the men holding Tristan is killed. The other one shields himself behind Tristan’s body, his knife at Tristan’s neck. He drags Tristan back until they reach the edge of the yard. But Ryland appears from behind a tree, making quick work of the Maska clansman with his knife.

Relief comes so fiercely that my eyes well with tears. Tristan’s with his people. He’s safe.

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