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"Are we finally there?" Myra asked, hopeful.
Kallie couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard footsteps pounding on the ground outside the carriage. She stretched her arms over her head, loosening her sore limbs. "Doubtful. The horses probably need a break."
A loud thud rattled the carriage. Kallie reached for the door, but she yanked her hand back and instead placed her ear against the wall. The soundproofed carriage muffled everything. Something similar to a grunt sounded on the other side, then a sound akin to a scream followed. The back of her neck grew cold as a chill ran through her body. On instinct, she reached underneath her skirts and unlatched the dagger from the holster. She slipped it into the sleeve of her shirt. Whatever was happening outside, Kallie did not want to be in a position where she was fumbling for a weapon.
"Kallie!" Myra hissed. "Why do you have your dagger on you right now?"
Kallie waved her hand in the air as more muffled grunts sounded outside. She grabbed her second, less favored, and smaller dagger from the bag beside her.
"Twoof them?"
Kallie held a finger to her lips as she listened to the unintelligible shouts outside the carriage, the plush cushioning and thick boards making it nearly impossible to parse them.
Meanwhile, Myra slapped her hand across her face, then lifted it a second later to whisper, "Is all of this necessary?"
"Let's hope not." Kallie held out the smaller dagger. Since Myra was untrained, it might do her more harm than good to wield a weapon she was unfamiliar with. But Kallie would never forgive herself if Myra was stuck in a situation where she had nothing to defend herself with.
Myra shook her head, melting into the cushion as her fisted hands dug into the seat.
Kallie snatched Myra's hand and pried it open. "Take it."
Kallie placed the small dagger in Myra's palm, folding her smooth fingers around it. "Think of it like a large embroidery needle."
Myra scrunched her nose. "No offense, Kals, but that is the stupidest thing you have ever said."
Kallie shrugged, but her handmaiden was right. The Ardentolian guard was made up of men primarily. As a result, Kallie had not been around many women who bore weapons. She made a mental note—when she became queen, she would change that. No one deserved to be defenseless. “Okay, fine. It's very different. But take it. Just in case."
Myra sighed but reached out her hand. "Just in case,” Myra repeated.
As Kallie bunched the fabric of her skirt together and tied it into a knot, she started to say, "I'm sure Alyn—" but a whine silenced her. She snapped her gaze up, and Myra's pale complexion told Kallie all she needed to know. She had made a grave mistake mentioning the guard.
"Oh, no! Kallie! What if he's hurt?" Myra’s gaze became glossy.
"Don't be silly, Mys. Alyn's one of the best," Kallie reassured Myra.
Still, Kallie's body itched to move even though she trusted Alyn's ability to protect them. She couldn't sit idly, especially at the risk of Myra's tears. She needed to assess the situation. Lifting the corner of the curtain, she peeked out the small window.
Five hooded figures surrounded the right side of the carriage, and no doubt there were more somewhere in the forest. The assailants stood around several bodies prone on the ground. She recognized the coachman, face slack against the dirt, blood spreading around him. A few feet away, a hooded figure slid a sword out of one of her other guards, whom Kallie identified as Orean. Near the first carriage, which contained hers and Myra's belongings, two other guards lay in their blood: Kyen and Fiel.
Four of her men down, only a handful left.
Whoever these strangers were, they had managed to slay her best guards in a matter of a few minutes.
She bit her thumbnail as she continued to scan the scene. A steel sword with a navy leather wrapping and delicate silver embroidery sewn around the grip caught her eye. Myra's handiwork—Kallie was sure of it, for she would recognize it anywhere. And a few feet away, a body lay face-first in the mud. A boot of one of the assailants pressed firmly between the man's shoulder blades. Blonde hair that was normally tidy was now covered in dirt.
Her eyes narrowed. She made to close the flap before anyone spotted her and before Myra thought to look herself. However, when she began to release the shade, the sight to her left pinned her hand in place.
Pushed up against the side of the carriage, Polin stood with his cheek pressed up against the door and his eyes squeezed shut in fear. The attacker towered over Polin as he pressed two scimitars against Polin's neck. The blades dug into his skin, a bead of blood forming.
Anticipating what would come next, Kallie looked away. The splattering against the window made her flinch, but Polin didn't even release a scream as the blades sliced through his neck. She forced herself to watch, digging her nails into her palms as Polin slid down the side of the carriage, hands pressed against his wound in a sad attempt at stopping the bleeding.
She had hand-picked all of her guards. And now they would not be returning to their families or their homes alive because of her choice.
With his scimitars smeared with blood, the figure stood there, and beneath the shadows, Kallie saw the glimmer of a smirk.
She would kill him.
She would kill them all.
