“We’re here to get you out,” Ronan announced as he unlocked the cell door.
Understandably suspicious, neither of the women got up. Then the Crimson Clan woman slowly stood. “You’re Ronan, son of Chief Aryan. What are you doing here?”
“We were sent by Princess Avery,” I said, then winced because I didn’t know if these women knew her identity or not.
The Keldaran woman gave a relieved sigh and worked to stand, stumbling. “Oh, thank the gods!”
Battered but unbroken, their eyes were hardened with the resolve to survive and fight another day.
As we pushed openthe door at the base of the willow and emerged from the secret passage, the quiet of early dawn was shattered by the unmistakable clamor of armor. Guards had been alerted to our intrusion and were converging on our position from multiple directions. Their swords caught the first glint of dawn as torches flickered in their hands, throwing long, sinister shadows on the ground.
“Leila, stay near me!” Ronan’s command cut through the chaos, his voice steady and demanding. Silas and I quickly pushed the rescued women behind Ronan and positioned ourselves back-to-back with him, ready to fend off the approaching guards.
Drawing upon the latent power within my blood, I used the dagger to slice my palm and waited until crimson droplets pooled in my hand. With grim resolve, I transformed the dripping blood into sharp, whip-like tendrils.
Ronan met the first guard who charged with a fierce parry, his counterstrike swift and decisive. Silas engaged another with precise, lethal movements.
Swinging my arm into the air, I directed the blood tendrils to lash out toward our attackers. They wrapped around a guard's legs and violently yanked him off his feet. As the other guards gaped in open shock, I reshaped my blood to a bow and arrows and waited. The first guard to fix his courage and storm toward me faced a sudden burst of blood-turned-arrows that struck him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling.
Clashing steel and groans from wounded guards rent the dawn, the scene made more sinister by the eerie sight of my blood magic manufacturing a crimson glow. Despite beingoverwhelmingly outmanned, our small group's skill with blades and my magic kept our attackers at bay.
The skirmish was intense but brief. As the tides turned in our favor, Ronan shouted, “Head into the village! We'll lose them in the crowd!”
Even in the dawn hours, Lomewood was already bustling with villagers setting up market stalls and early risers beginning their day. We ducked into the busy streets, weaving through vendors setting up for the market. The smell of fresh bread and morning dew mixed with the dirt kicked up by hurried footsteps created a heady bouquet that almost made me forget the peril in which we found ourselves.
As we maneuvered through narrow alleys and crowded stalls, the distinctive sound of the guards' metallic armor faded into the background noises of the village. Ronan guided us with a determined pace, his eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit or further threats. Darting around the corner of a building, he turned around to face our small group. “We must remain vigilant. Let’s return to the clinic and plan our next move from there.”
We kept a low profile as we navigated the village, mingling with the morning crowd until we reached the safety of my clinic. The risk was far from over, but for now, the immediate danger had passed.
We barreledinto my clinic and quickly locked the door behind us, then peeked through the closed curtains to ensure we hadn’t been followed. The atmosphere inside was starkly different from the tense escape we'd just undertaken.
“Where are we?” the Keldaran woman asked as she scanned the familiar yet foreign surroundings of my clinic.
I shrugged one shoulder. “This is my clinic.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, fully intending to keep my identity under wraps for a little while longer.
The woman from the Crimson Clan gave a snort of amusement. “You're Princess Lyanna, aren't you? There’s no need to hide your identity from us. We're well aware who you are.”
A nervous chuckle escaped me. “Seems like it's no longer a secret.” Crossing the room to a small stove, I began to prepare some tea for us. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
The Crimson Clan woman cautiously took a seat at the modest table, unconvinced by our motives, while the Keldaran was more relaxed as she surveyed the room with a curious gaze. Ronan paced restlessly, while Silas retained his vigil at the window, ensuring our safety.
I placed the kettle on to boil and shook my head. “Ronan,please, either sit down or hold still. You're making me jittery.”
He stopped pacing, though his expression was troubled. “It was too easy,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
The Keldaran raised an eyebrow. “Too easy? Are you kidding?”
Ronan turned toward the two women. “It felt like they were expecting us,” he said, suspicion creeping into his tone.
I paused in the act of pulling teacups down from the cupboard. “You know, you might be onto something,” I mused aloud. “There were hardly any guards in the dungeon, but the instant we stepped outside, there was an ambush. Is it possible they expected a jailbreak?”
“Quite possibly,” Ronan conceded, then directed his attention back to our guests. “Did you hear anything while you were down there?”
The woman from the Crimson Clan cleared her throat. “Not much, but Prince Caelan did bless us with his presence a few times.” She rolled her eyes. “The guards threatened that he would return to interrogate us more thoroughly, but he never did.”
I had to agree with Ronan – it was awfully suspicious. “Do you think you were imprisoned because Caelan assumed you were with us? That would make sense, given one of you is from the Crimson Clan and the other is from Keldara, with whom we now have an alliance.”
Ronan slowly nodded as pieces of the convoluted puzzle seemed to fall into place. “It's likely.”
