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I heard the soft clank of armor and looked up to see one of the men stepping forward. His hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his side. This man was born to be a soldier, I could tell, something natural about the proud set of his shoulders. Dark stubble mottled his chin, the olive tone of his skin striking against the liquid night armor. He was handsome, with wide set shoulders and a strong, straight nose. He was probably only a few years older than me.
“Daughter of Katia, Lady Petra,” he said, seemingly so uncomfortable using my name that he threw in a formal title for good measure. “My name is Lieutenant Otto Mason, Guardian of Oxblood Outpost. I, and the other soldiers who protect the Outpost, are loyal to you and you alone.”
He fell silent, waiting for me to answer. I opened my mouth, unsure of what exactly to say. “Okay,” I said sheepishly. Where the hell was the Petra who had threatened Castemont’s life? Not here, that was for sure. “Thanks.” Fucking Saints. “And please, just Petra.”
“Whatever you need, we are at your disposal.”
“I don’tneedanything.” My chest began to heave as the weight of this seemingly forced title began to crush me, my ribs feeling like they were going to break again. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to be the Daughter of Katia, Blood of Old Creed, Child of Benevolence. I don’t want to be the Savior of the Realm. I don’t even know why the realm needs to be saved.” My tone began to rise as I fought back the urge to shriek, to scream and rip my hair out and cry. “I want to gohome.”
The air in my chest felt thin as the soldiers stared at me. “I was born in the fuckinggutter of Eserene.I was raised in a fucking cesspool. I watched my sister die. They told me my father committed suicide, but Iknewhe didn’t. I fuckingknew.” I was screaming now, my face flushed as the tears spilled down my cheeks, the picture of finding Da’s cloak in the cave digging its talons into my brain. The cloak Calomyr had planted. “And I was right, because Castemont fuckingkilled him!He killed my father so he could marry my mother to get tome.” My arms were flailing, hysterics turning my vision red. “All because she isn’t my mother at all, because myrealmother is apparently the fucking Keeper of the Benevolent Saints who onlyjustdecided to show her fucking face!”
I hit the ground in a crumpled heap, the sobs ripping a canyon through me. I didn’t care how many men stared. I didn’t care what they thought. I didn’t care that Miles stood over me. I just wanted to go home.
Leather-clad feet stopped just in front of me, and I peered up through teary eyes to see Otto, his brows knit together in…concern. That was concern I saw, and sympathy. A calloused hand reached down, the sunlight gleaming off the intricate gold detail on the black metal cuff at his wrist.
Wiping my eyes, I hesitantly reached for his hand and flinched as my blistered palm made contact. He pulled me up with ease given our similar heights, telling me a muscled body hid beneath the armor. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered with a nod. I squeezed my eyes shut at his words. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Silence settled over the Outpost, the distant sounds of a burning city beginning to reach me, echoey clangs and crashes sounding too close for comfort. I didn’t want to hear it, the screams, the sound of buildings burning, it reminded me of too much–
“Petra,”Otto said, a faint smile on his lips at the use of my first name. “We’re going to keep you safe, but something is about to happen.” His gaze flicked behind me to where Miles stood near the entrance to the tunnel and nodded at whatever he saw.
I whirled around to Miles, seeing his familiar stance, hand on the hilt of his sword, mask glinting dully. “Whoever was behind us is almost here.” His tone was flat. It was then that I realized the echoes I thought came from Taitha were coming from the tunnel.
Otto’s hand gently pulled me away, but I dug my feet into the dirt, refusing to move. “Who?” I demanded.
“Could be Kauvras,” Miles answered for him, too nonchalantly. “Or his men. Or it could be our men.Yourmen.” He drew his sword, the sound of steel making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.
My eyes flew to Otto, but his face was the definition of calm. “We’re going to keep you safe,” he repeated intentionally. I wanted to tell him I could keep myself safe, but the thought of letting someone else do it for me… I nodded. He lifted his hand to the remaining soldiers who began to move, some unsheathing swords, some pulling bows from their backs, some moving toward a small cluster of rudimentary structures at the back of the camp.
“You need to hide.”
Chapter 6
There was no time to react before a dozen soldiers surrounded me, the sun blotted out by their armor. “Hello again,” a timid voice said, and I looked beside me to find a man with sandy blonde hair.
“Tomkin,” I said, recognizing the face that had woken me from my sleep early this morning. He gave a small smile as he swung a rickety door open and led me into one of the dilapidated buildings at the Outpost, the other soldiers silently following.
There were rows of low cots across the dusty floor and a dozen or so crudely built wooden wardrobes, each pushed against a wall appearing to be made of stone and mud. “It’s not the fanciest, but it keeps the rain out,” he said with a smile as we walked to one of the wardrobes. “I’m sorry, your Majesty, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait in here.” He swung a creaking wardrobe open, the sound melting into the flurry of activity outside the building’s thin walls.
“Just Petra,” I repeated as I climbed between the hanging leathers without hesitation. It reeked of unwashed men, and I suppressed a gag as I gathered my skirts as best I could.
“I need you to stay silent. Don’t come out. Don’t move. Don’t do anything until one of us comes to get you. Okay?” He was so soft spoken, a tiny bit of light in this hectic storm. I nodded, swallowing hard. He closed me in, and I was relieved to realize the doors were inlaid with some type of latticework. No one could see in, but I at least had enough light to see the outline of my blistered hand in front of my face.
I leaned my head back against the rough wood panel, my breaths shallow given the stench. But the sound of the building’s door suddenly opening was just audible above the other noise. Heavy footsteps approached, and I tensed with anxiety. Whoever was in the tunnel wasn’t here yet, were they? They said everyone here was loyal to me, but what if they weren’t?
The wardrobe swung open to reveal a ram’s head looking down at me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered harshly.
“Move your feet,” he snapped, trying to climb in across from me. His tone was overly sharp as he shuffled into the wardrobe. “I realized that they saw me leave the throne room with you,” he continued, his voice even more harsh. “If they see me here, they’ll know you’re here too. I’ve never been assigned to the Outpost.” The vitriol that I felt from him was different than what I’d felt from him in the tunnels.
“Then take the Saints damned mask off. Then they won’t know who you are.”
“They will.”
I furrowed my brows as I pulled my feet in, irritation brewing in my chest. “There are ten other buildings out here. Pick a different one,” I bit out.
“If they find you, you’ll need me to defend you.” He swung his legs in, reaching forward and closing the door.
