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“Milla!”
Jordy.
Jordy rushes to my side and clasps my face in his large hands. He kisses my forehead, then backs away to look at me.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
“I’m fine, my love,” I reply. “King Urich is dead. We followed Malek to the king’s bed chambers. They had words when my lineage was revealed and Malek stabbed him. Then he and Victor tangled swords and fell from the window.” I nod my head toward them. “And they fight still. We need to end this, Jordy. Who is our best archer?”
“No, Milla. Sir Victor must fight for as long as he can endure. Having an archer’s arrow find Malek’s heart would shred Victor’s honor. You know that.”
“And I do not agree with that.” I lower my head. “You stepped in with Philip in the market square that day, remember?”
Jordy takes my hands. “That was entirely different. Philip is not a knight.”
I huff out the words, “Knight or no, Sir Victor has an injured arm.” I face the swordplay again. “He is tiring and favoring that arm. I can tell.”
Jordy kisses my hand before releasing it. “I will not allow Sir Victor to be defeated. I swear it. Just promise me you will remain safe, my lady…no matter what occurs.”
His oath grips my heart like an angry fist, but I nod my agreement when the words don’t come. We move closer to the swordplay, Jordy’s hand on his blade as he watches Victor’s every move.
“Your time away from the king’s guard has made you weak, my old friend,” Malek shouts to Sir Victor.
“I was never your friend,” Victor spits back.
Malek’s sword finds Victor’s middle, barely grazing it, but it is enough to knock him back. Malek advances as Sir Victor attempts to block the strike aimed at his legs. The sword finds its mark and Victor falls to the ground.
“No!” I’m running toward the fray, but Jordy is faster.
“Malek!” Jordy screams as the demon is about to stab Sir Victor, who is dragging his body along the ground, attempting to retrieve his own sword.
Malek turns and faces Jordy, peals of wild laughter escaping his vile throat. “You? I thought I told you to never oppose me again, boy. Remember? Now thisisgetting interesting. No second chances. I’ll gut you like a fish this time.”
Jordy grins. “Are you catching your breath, or do you simply like to hear yourself talk? On with it. Do your best, then, Sir Malek.” Jordy wields his sword like he was born with it in his hand and backs away a little, trying to draw Malek away from Sir Victor, who is still dragging himself along the ground. Jordy glances in my direction.
And Sir Malek notices.
“Ha!” Malek laughs. “This newprincessis your lady, the one I saw with you at market that day, the one with the room full of potions and witchery.” His laughter is a demented thing. “So, I am to lose my kingdom to a peasant princess, huh? I suppose we’ll see about that.”
Malek swings his sword at Jordy and the crude duel begins. When they are a safe distance from him, I rush to Sir Victor, my head a swirl of fear and determination. I bend down to lift him, my chest plate a nuisance that I doubt I can keep supporting. My shaky hands tug off my cloak and the leather straps of the armor until the last one is free. I allow my armor to fall to the ground. I drape one of Victor’s arms over my shoulder and help him stand. The slices on his legs are deep and painful, and he cries out when he puts weight on them.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Victor says, his voice meek and pained. “I have failed you.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort. We made short order of the palace army thanks to you. Your strategy was brilliant, and your courage is unmatched.”
I fear Victor will fall before I get him to safety. He is losing a lot of blood, and his face is paled and lined with sweat. I motion for two soldiers in our path and they help carry Victor and ease him down on a soft patch of ground.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” I say close to Victor’s face. “This will hurt, but it can’t be helped. I’ll work quickly.”
Truth be told, the bleeding does need to stop, but I keep looking from Victor to Jordy. He seems to be holding his own with Malek, but I fear for his safety with all my soul. I retrieve thin strips of cloth from my pouch and some congealing ointment. I open my canteen and look in Victor’s anguished eyes.
“This will hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”
I pour the water on the gashes in his thighs and follow with some smears of the ointment. Victor’s body goes rigid and he cries out but relaxes a little when the ointment starts numbing the wounds as it sets to work. I give the strips of cloth to the men standing nearby.
“Hold the wounds shut. Use these as a tourniquet. Tie them as tightly as he can bear.” I touch Victor’s shoulder and whisper in his ear. “I need to help Jordy, all right? I will mend you when the battle is over. I promise.”
His smile is weak. “Make no fuss over me, your highness. Go to Jordy. You are his stronghold. I underestimated your skills, and I admire your bravery, my queen.”
