No,wewould persevere.Wewould win.
An enemy rider bolted toward me, and our swords met with a harsh clang. The scrape of metal rang through my ears as I thrust my blade against his thigh, knocking him off-balance. He slid in his saddle, and his horse veered. I was about to lunge after him when a brilliant orb of sparking magic careened between us. It singed the air with electricity and cooked everything it passed until it crashed into the ground. My gaze snapped to the enemy forces and the singular woman standing clear in their midst. She’d opted for leather armor that mirrored the drab browns and sage greens of our surroundings, keeping her position camouflaged until she struck. But now, with a burnt path of grass and cattails leading directly to her feet, she was all too visible.
Mage.
Flexing her fingers, she brought her hands before her chest and summoned another crackling ball of energy. It raged and sparked between her palms, and she looked up with a ferocious grin.
Thaleus galloped toward me like an arrow loosed from a bow. “How did Rhyne manage to get their hands on a mage?”
My gaze dropped to the ashy earth before us. “Explains how they tore through our ships so easily.” Mages didn’t trifle with the wars of Lendria. And yet there she was, summoning another sphere of lightning that could annihilate our forces with ease. She had to be stopped.
Leaning into my mare’s neck, I nudged her sides and called over my shoulder as we galloped forward. “You take command of the riders. I’ll deal with her.”
“Aleksander!” Thaleus shouted at my back. Enemy forces surged toward me, and I cut them down, ignoring the rising bile in my throat as more blood spilled. Blessed by magic of their own, the Sentinels chased after me with breakneck speed. For the first time since they’d been assigned to my guard, panic flickered through their barely visible gazes. Their movements were jerky, their kills sloppy. Just how dangerous was this mage?
As if in answer, the glowing orb between her fingers finally reached its pinnacle. She thrust it from her hands directly toward me. Her cry rose above the trumpeting horns and beating drums, and I swerved my horse to the side. The snarling mass of energy streaked by, searing the left side of my armor. Heat cooked my skin, and I cried out even as my mare gave a frightened squeal and reared onto her hind legs. Fumbling to grip the reins in time, I lost my balance and smacked into the earth, reddish muck squelching through the slits in my armor and coating my skin. Black dots danced across my vision as the cattails swam in and out of focus. A dull ringing reverberated in my skull.
Somewhere behind me, the Sentinels shouted. We’d separated ourselves from the majority of our forces, and a barrage of enemy foot soldiers converged to take advantage. Rolling to the side, I avoided the deadly arc of a sword and swept the feet out from under a jade warrior. He responded with a swift punch to my jaw. Pinning me beneath his weight, he brought his sword down fast. I countered with my blade and grimaced as the lingering burn of magic transformed into a bone-deep blaze of pain down my arm. Grunting, I forced all my strength into my hands and pushed. He fell onto his back, and my blade met his jugular. A wet gurgle spewed from his lips, and then he went limp. Dead. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled forward a short distance until a familiar swell of static electricity clouded the air.
From a few feet away, the mage smiled. “And now this war will finally end.”
I had no time to dodge her attack. My strength was already waning, and while her first attempt had missed, this one wouldn’t. The last thing I’d see was the slash of her grin across bloodstained skin. Gritting my teeth, I crossed my arms in front of me in a futile, last-ditch attempt to protect my heart.
And then a blade so black it must have been carved from the night itself exploded through her ribs. Her magic died in an instant, and she sputtered, wild hands flailing against an attack neither of us saw coming. She took one look at me, blood trickling from her mouth, and crashed to her knees, then to the ground.
Gone.
With a slow blink, I focused on the space behind her. A man clad in sable clothes stood without moving, his gloved hand holding a black blade dipped in red. Confusion dulled the threat of battle, and I took a careful step forward. He wore the attire of a Wilheimian noble, with filigree patterns and brocades etched in fine stitching along his vest. His shoes were somehow remarkably clean, his clothes only showing the faintest signs of dirt and blood. Helmetless, his styled pompadour was on display, and not a single hair dared to jut out of place, despite the wind.
With a belabored sigh, he righted his silver-rimmed spectacles. “Thank you for distracting her, Prince Aleksander.”
“It’s you I should be thanking.” I did a quick glance behind me and saw my guard had taken care of our nearby enemies and were waiting, gauging the distance between me and this mystery assassin. Threat or no? He wore no affiliating emblem. No colors from either army. Still, he had saved my life. As a show of faith, I sheathed my sword. “Why kill the mage? Are you Lendrian?”
“Lendrian?” The man raised a careful brow. “I suppose by geographical terms, the answer is yes.”
Geographical terms?My brow furrowed. “I see. Then you should return to camp with me. I’d like to reward you for your courage.”
“There’s no need.” With a flourish of his hand, the blade disappeared. Into a hidden sheath? I couldn’t tell. It was as black as his clothing, so perhaps. The man ran his hands over his vest until they came across a stray piece of dirt. He flicked it away. “It seems as though this victory is yours.”
He gestured to the fields. Sometime during my standoff with the mage, the drums and horns had been silenced. There were still cries of agony rising and falling with the wind, but the anxiety of battle had diminished. The roar, gone. Penumbra Glades was a wasteland of blood and bone. We’d held the line and protected the town of Moeras, but not without casualty. As the last bit of adrenaline fled my body, fatigue settled deep in my bones, and I let out a quiet sigh.
Slowly, I turned back to the man. “So it seems.”
He nodded once, a curt jut of his chin. “I must be going. Stay vigilant, Prince Aleksander.”
My gaze dropped as he stepped back into something dark as an oil slick. Rhyne must have been in a rush to douse their arrows. Taking a few quick strides, I closed the distance between us. “Wait. I insist you return to camp so I can properly thank you.”
Something flickered through his ice-green gaze. “As I said, that’s not necessary. I am a member of Cruor. The mage was a job. I can procure proof if necessary.”
Cruor?
My father had once mentioned a guild of elite assassins living on the fringe of our country, but I’d never paid him much mind. The rumors surrounding their abilities were exactly that—rumors. No one could move with the shadows. No one could form weapons out of night.
And yet…
I stared at the dark patch beneath his feet. Shiny like ink and yet wispy as mist, it curled up in small billows. And the blade, had that been one of their famed weapons? Something truly crafted from death itself? Curiosity burned deep in my chest, and I removed my helmet. Shock-white hair spilled over my eyes, and I brushed it to the side. “Proof won’t be necessary. But I’d still like you to return to camp with us. Both as thanks, and so I can learn more about you and your work.” I waited for a beat to see if he’d answer, but he only stared at me with a look of disbelief. “What’s your name?”
The man’s gaze faltered. “Kostya, my prince.”
