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Meanwhile, the rider turned around and trotted back to me, reaching out a hand.
“Need some help?” Cyrus asked.
It was a very heroic move—if I had needed a hero. Still, I weighed my options and decided it would be better to ride with him than try to make it on my own.
Not to mention it would’ve been very rude to decline the King of Osavian, my betrothed.
I swallowed hard and took his hand as he pulled me up. Once I’d wrapped my arms around his waist, the horse began to move and together we jabbed our swords at any enemy fighters within our reach.
Around us, I could see their numbers dwindling. It was clear that we were winning. The spirits of Osavian’s soldiers were high as they fought valiantly. I even chanced a smile myself, feeling more protected atop Cyrus’s stallion.
Premature roars of victory rang through the air. The excitement was tangible. My gaze roamed the crowd, looking for one fighter in particular. My uneasiness grew the longer I did not find him.
He couldn’t be dead. Cyrus would’ve said something. Wouldn’t he? Maybe not. He didn’t know what Ladon meant to me. He probably still assumed we were enemies and had spent the past few months biting each other’s heads off.
Dread settled in my belly. Where was he?
While my attention was elsewhere, I missed the spear headed toward us. Our horse toppled forward as the spiked tip pierced its side, tossing Cyrus and me off. I tumbled, coming to a stop several feet away.
I groaned as I twisted to my side. Every bone in my body ached, and as much as I wanted to give in and rest, I knew there was still work to be done. I searched for Cyrus, spotting him a few yards away.
I gasped in horror at the sight before me.
Cyrus was kneeling, his eyes zeroed in on me. Behind him, a soldier held him by the hair with a knife pressed to his neck.
“Don’t,” I cried, reaching hopelessly for them.
A sinister smile erupted on that treacherous face.
“Please.” My voice broke. I didn’t dare look around for help. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. But it seemed no one else was aware that their king was about to be slaughtered.
I opened my mouth to scream for help, but the soldier cut me off.
“Don’t you dare. I’ll kill him.”
The blade on Cyrus’s neck tightened. He’d kill him anyway. Wouldn’t he? Or did he have plans to capture him for Reyna, like she’d meant to do all along?
“What do you want?” I asked.
He scoffed. “I don’t want—”
His sentence was cut off with a swift blow to the head. He stumbled but kept his hold on Cyrus, though now he also had to defend himself against one of Osavian’s fighters.
His silver blade flashed as he swung it wildly through the air, desperate to kill his attacker. While he was distracted, Cyrus was able to free himself and he scrambled for his sword that had fallen a few feet away.
It all happened so fast. One second the Murvort soldier was slicing through the abdomen of his foe, spilling his guts, and the next he was clashing with Cyrus. This time, Cyrus was equipped to engage in a proper fight.
Still frozen in shock, I watched as our enemy drew his sword while keeping the knife in his other. He snarled and dove toward Cyrus, who sidestepped just in time to dodge the man.
Cyrus struck the man with the dull edge of his blade right in the center of his back. He scoffed and I could tell he wanted to take his time. Wanted to punish the soldier for thinking he could kill the king.
They sparred—swords clanging and sweat falling as they circled each other like ravenous beasts. The Murvort soldier struggled to breathe and even Cyrus appeared to be losing steam.
More soldiers gathered until Cyrus was completely surrounded. I moved toward him to help, but suddenly his blade went up in flames. He swung it around in a large circle, taking out multiple enemies with one swoop. I had to block my face from the heat of it. The Murvort soldiers screamed and I could smell their burning flesh as Cyrus took their lives. As the fire cooled, I peeked beyond my arm to see a mass of ash that vaguely resembled human figures lying at his feet.
He gave me a casual smile, like the massacre was a just a small feat. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, and he reached for me. “Emilie!”
I spun around, swinging my sword into a defensive position. I’d been so captivated by their ongoing quarrel that I didn’t notice the soldier sneaking up behind me. His weapon clashed with mine, and I felt his power ripple through my arm.
