I struggled on the floor, legs twisted in the fabric.
“Shoot, you dirty piles of worm dung!” I shrieked as I kicked the blanket off and leapt to my feet.
Four armored guards positioned themselves within my chamber, two brandishing drawn swords while the other pair aimed crossbows toward my window. Startled, I spun around to face the source of disturbance, only to discover Lyanaperched amidst the shattered glass, her figure silhouetted by a lantern’s glow. She peered upward with a mixture of frustration and anger evident in her cursing.
“Your Highness! Are you all right?!” one guard asked, lowering his sword.
Another, with a bow, darted for the chamber’s entrance, bellowing something down the hall. Lyana approached, the warm glow of her lantern casting eerie shadows along the walls. My gaze shifted downwards, fixating on the crimson stain seeping across my white nightgown.
“I guess not.”
“We knew it would happen sooner or later.”
“I hoped for later.”
My breath hissed past gritted teeth as Gilead worked. The promised numbness from the ointment she applied did nothing for the sting of someone threading a needle through flesh.
In the dim confines of the windowless chamber, I lay on my side, the sterile scent of medicinal supplies pricking at my nausea. Across from me, Lyana watched Gilead’s meticulous work with a mix of fascination and concern etched into her features. Sainte perched on a stool nearby, his piercing blue gaze fixed on me, carrying an unspoken accusation, as if I was to blame for the entire situation.
Anderz maintained a composed stance at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together in a quiet display of resolve. Meanwhile, Urien lounged against the doorframe, picking his nails with a wicked-looking dagger.
“Something sent him over the edge,” he said.
Anderz gave him a bored leer. “Prince Regent Adastrus is not her only enemy within the castle.”
“The only one so bold,” Sainte added.
Lyana leaned closer to the wound along my side. “Do you tie it off like a regular stitch?”
“Watch,” Gilead murmured.
Sainte winced, straightening his posture, eyes locked on me. “She needs a Valahant.”
“A what?” I asked.
“Careful, Captain,” Urien warned. His hands went still as he stared at the back of Sainte’s head.
“What is that?” I never heard the word before, but it was familiar, as if it had roots in Wynterborne.
“Done,” Gilead sighed, gathering her supplies.
Anderz tapped his lip as if contemplating. “A Valahantis…”
“An extension of yourself,” Sainte finished, cool gaze still fixed on mine.
The counselor nodded. “Many countries refer to them as champions or protectors.”
“A personal guard?” I offered. “I’ve seen them in the ports.”
“It’s more than that, Princess,” Anderz said. “They are, as the captain put it, an extension of yourself. They would be bound to you in life and death.”
“Never free to pursue their own will,” Urien added, deathly still.
Lyana scoffed. “Well, that’s awful.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Post her own guard. The prince can’t deny her request for protection.”
Anderz lifted a gray brow. “And you would trust those picked by our dear regent to protect her?”
