Page 26
Story: His Forbidden Princess
"Enough!" I cry, finding my voice at last. "Stop this madness!"
To my surprise, the guards hesitate, conditioned to obey royal commands. Dain doesn't. He uses their momentary distraction to disable another opponent, sending the man sprawling from his saddle with a well-placed blow.
Thorne signals to the newcomers, who spread out to surround us. "Stand down, Vorex," he calls. "It's over. Don't throw your life away."
"My life was forfeit the moment I chose her," Dain responds, blood dripping from his blade. "But I'll take as many of you with me as I can before I fall."
"NO!" I urge my horse forward, placing myself between Dain and the advancing guards. "No more bloodshed. These men are following orders, just as you once did."
Dain's eyes burn with terrible resolve. "Move aside, Lirien."
"I will not." I meet his gaze steadily. "I will not watch you die for me."
"Better to die fighting for what matters than live serving what doesn't." His voice softens despite the harshness of his words. "Please, go. Cross the river. I'll hold them as long as I can."
The selflessness of his plea breaks something inside me. This man—this brave, stubborn, impossible man—is willing to sacrifice everything to give me freedom. A freedom that means nothing without him.
"I'm not leaving you." I reach out, my fingers brushing his blood-streaked hand. "If I return to the palace, I return with you beside me."
Confusion crosses his face. "They'll execute me the moment we're back inside the walls."
"No." I straighten in my saddle, turning to face the guards who have paused, uncertain how to proceed. "They will not harmthe man I love. The man I choose to stand beside me. Not if they wish me to cooperate with anything ever again."
Thorne exchanges glances with his men, clearly weighing the situation. Finally, he speaks. "Princess, our orders are to return you to the palace. The king will decide Captain Vorex's fate."
"Then hear me clearly, Sergeant." I infuse my voice with every ounce of royal authority I possess. "You will allow Captain Vorex to bind his wounds before we travel. You will treat him with respect as my chosen companion. And you will deliver a message to my father: if any harm comes to Dain Vorex, I will never—never—fulfill my duties as crown princess again."
A long silence follows my proclamation. The guards look to Thorne for direction, while Dain stares at me with an expression hovering between disbelief and awe.
"Your Highness," Thorne begins, clearly uncomfortable, "I cannot guarantee?—"
"You don't need to guarantee anything except our safe passage to the palace," I interrupt. "I will handle my father."
Thorne hesitates a moment longer, then nods. "Very well. Tend to your wounds, Vorex. We ride when you're ready."
The guards withdraw a respectful distance, leaving Dain and me in a small bubble of privacy. He slumps slightly in his saddle, the adrenaline of battle beginning to fade, revealing the true extent of his injuries.
"You should have gone," he says quietly, eyes locked on mine. "You were so close to freedom."
I guide my horse closer until our legs touch, reaching out to cup his face in my palm. "What use is freedom if I can't share it with you?"
His hand covers mine, turning to press a kiss to my palm despite the guards watching from a distance. "What you said—about loving me?—"
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, sm
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, smearing blood and dirt. "Perhaps the only truth that matters now."
His eyes close briefly, leaning into my touch. "Lirien, your father will never accept this. Never accept me."
"Then he will have to learn." I glance at the waiting guards, then back to Dain's wounded body. "But first, we need to tend to your injuries. You're bleeding badly."
He looks down at his leg as if noticing the wound for the first time. "I've had worse."
"That doesn't comfort me." I dismount, gesturing for him to do the same. When he sways upon hitting the ground, I'm there, slipping under his arm to support his weight. "Sit. Let me see."
The guards watch warily as I help Dain to a fallen log near the riverbank. He sits heavily, face pale beneath the blood and grime. I tear strips from the hem of my shirt—a princess rending her own clothing, something that would scandalize the court ladies—and bind his leg wound as best I can.
"Where did you learn this?" he asks, watching my hands work with surprising competence.
To my surprise, the guards hesitate, conditioned to obey royal commands. Dain doesn't. He uses their momentary distraction to disable another opponent, sending the man sprawling from his saddle with a well-placed blow.
Thorne signals to the newcomers, who spread out to surround us. "Stand down, Vorex," he calls. "It's over. Don't throw your life away."
"My life was forfeit the moment I chose her," Dain responds, blood dripping from his blade. "But I'll take as many of you with me as I can before I fall."
"NO!" I urge my horse forward, placing myself between Dain and the advancing guards. "No more bloodshed. These men are following orders, just as you once did."
Dain's eyes burn with terrible resolve. "Move aside, Lirien."
"I will not." I meet his gaze steadily. "I will not watch you die for me."
"Better to die fighting for what matters than live serving what doesn't." His voice softens despite the harshness of his words. "Please, go. Cross the river. I'll hold them as long as I can."
The selflessness of his plea breaks something inside me. This man—this brave, stubborn, impossible man—is willing to sacrifice everything to give me freedom. A freedom that means nothing without him.
"I'm not leaving you." I reach out, my fingers brushing his blood-streaked hand. "If I return to the palace, I return with you beside me."
Confusion crosses his face. "They'll execute me the moment we're back inside the walls."
"No." I straighten in my saddle, turning to face the guards who have paused, uncertain how to proceed. "They will not harmthe man I love. The man I choose to stand beside me. Not if they wish me to cooperate with anything ever again."
Thorne exchanges glances with his men, clearly weighing the situation. Finally, he speaks. "Princess, our orders are to return you to the palace. The king will decide Captain Vorex's fate."
"Then hear me clearly, Sergeant." I infuse my voice with every ounce of royal authority I possess. "You will allow Captain Vorex to bind his wounds before we travel. You will treat him with respect as my chosen companion. And you will deliver a message to my father: if any harm comes to Dain Vorex, I will never—never—fulfill my duties as crown princess again."
A long silence follows my proclamation. The guards look to Thorne for direction, while Dain stares at me with an expression hovering between disbelief and awe.
"Your Highness," Thorne begins, clearly uncomfortable, "I cannot guarantee?—"
"You don't need to guarantee anything except our safe passage to the palace," I interrupt. "I will handle my father."
Thorne hesitates a moment longer, then nods. "Very well. Tend to your wounds, Vorex. We ride when you're ready."
The guards withdraw a respectful distance, leaving Dain and me in a small bubble of privacy. He slumps slightly in his saddle, the adrenaline of battle beginning to fade, revealing the true extent of his injuries.
"You should have gone," he says quietly, eyes locked on mine. "You were so close to freedom."
I guide my horse closer until our legs touch, reaching out to cup his face in my palm. "What use is freedom if I can't share it with you?"
His hand covers mine, turning to press a kiss to my palm despite the guards watching from a distance. "What you said—about loving me?—"
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, sm
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, smearing blood and dirt. "Perhaps the only truth that matters now."
His eyes close briefly, leaning into my touch. "Lirien, your father will never accept this. Never accept me."
"Then he will have to learn." I glance at the waiting guards, then back to Dain's wounded body. "But first, we need to tend to your injuries. You're bleeding badly."
He looks down at his leg as if noticing the wound for the first time. "I've had worse."
"That doesn't comfort me." I dismount, gesturing for him to do the same. When he sways upon hitting the ground, I'm there, slipping under his arm to support his weight. "Sit. Let me see."
The guards watch warily as I help Dain to a fallen log near the riverbank. He sits heavily, face pale beneath the blood and grime. I tear strips from the hem of my shirt—a princess rending her own clothing, something that would scandalize the court ladies—and bind his leg wound as best I can.
"Where did you learn this?" he asks, watching my hands work with surprising competence.