Page 43

“Stay down,” he whispered, releasing me to peer cautiously over the windowsill.

A second arrow shattered the glass, missing him by inches. He dropped to the floor beside me, cursing under his breath.

“How many?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“At least six that I can see. Black clothes, masked faces.” His jaw clenched. “My sword’s downstairs.”

Of course it was. Because nothing in this cursed second life of mine could ever be simple.

The door splintered inward before we could move. Two masked men burst through, weapons drawn. Anderic reacted with lightning speed, grabbing the nearest chair and smashing it against the wall. The wooden legs snapped off, leaving him with a makeshift club.

“Behind me,” he ordered, pushing me back with one arm while brandishing his broken chair with the other.

The first attacker lunged. Anderic parried the blade with his chair-turned-weapon, wood chips flying as steel bit into it. He countered with a vicious swing that connected with the man’s temple, sending him crashing into the wall.

“The stairs—now!” Anderic shouted, already backing toward the door, keeping himself between me and our attackers.

We bolted for the staircase, the thundering of boots behind us.

Halfway down, another masked figure appeared at the bottom, blocking our escape.

Without breaking stride, Anderic vaulted over the railing, landing with a grunt before driving his shoulder into the man’s midsection.

They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

I scrambled down the remaining steps as Anderic rolled away from his opponent, reaching for his sword propped against the wall.

His fingers closed around the hilt just as two more attackers descended the stairs.

In one fluid motion, he drew the blade and slashed upward, catching the first man across the chest.

“Run!” he shouted at me, already engaging the second attacker. “Out the door, now!”

I started toward the exit but froze as three more figures emerged from the tree line outside. Trapped between Anderic’s fight and the approaching men, I hesitated.

“I said, RUN!” Anderic roared, fighting with a ferocity that made my blood run cold. His blade danced, keeping three men at bay, but he couldn’t hold them forever.

One of the men from outside spotted me and charged. My hand flew to my boots, where Anderic’s dagger was strapped—the one I had used to kill Gareth.

The man clearly didn’t expect resistance from me. His guard was down as he reached for my arm. I yanked the dagger free and drove it into his chest with all my strength, feeling the sickening give of flesh and the scrape of metal against bone.

His eyes widened in shock behind his mask. Blood bubbled from his lips as he staggered backward, then collapsed.

I tried to retrieve the dagger, but it had sunk to the hilt. No matter how hard I pulled, it wouldn’t budge. Panic seized me as the remaining men advanced, their eyes now wary. They wouldn’t underestimate me again.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, abandoning the dagger and bolting for the kitchen. They followed, their footsteps heavy on the wooden floor.

The kitchen knives still lay on the counter, exactly where I’d left them yesterday. I grabbed two blades, whirling to face my pursuers. Five of them now, moving cautiously into the room while Anderic’s battle raged in the main hall.

Two knives. Five men. Terrible odds.

I licked my dry lips, remembering Sebastian’s lessons in knife-throwing. “Pick your target. Breathe. Release on the exhale.”

The nearest man lunged. I threw, my arm snapping forward with precision born of desperation. The blade caught him in the throat. He dropped, gurgling, clawing at the steel protruding from his neck.

Four left.

I threw my second knife at the next man, but my hand trembled. The blade whistled past his ear, embedding itself in the doorframe. My stomach dropped. No more weapons.

“You’re a dead woman,” one of them growled, advancing slowly.

My eyes darted around the kitchen, searching for anything to use as a weapon. Then I spotted it—a clay jar of cooking oil on the shelf beside me.

Not ideal, but better than nothing.

“Come closer and find out,” I said, reaching for the jar with shaking hands.

They charged. I hurled the oil, shattering the jar against the leader’s chest. The thick liquid splashed across all four, drenching their black clothing.

My fingers fumbled with the matchbox on the counter. One match left. I struck it, the flame dancing to life between my trembling fingers.

“Take another step, and we all burn,” I warned, holding the match toward them.

They hesitated, eyeing the flame. For one brief moment, I thought my bluff had worked. Then the match burned down, singeing my fingertips. I dropped it with a hiss of pain.

The men resumed their advance, smirking beneath their masks.

“Lya, DOWN!” Anderic’s voice thundered from behind them.

I dropped to the floor as his blade sliced through the air where I’d been standing, catching one attacker across the back. The man screamed, collapsing forward.

Anderic grabbed my hand, yanking me to my feet. “We need to go—NOW!”

We raced for the door, dodging bodies. “Wait! Your dagger—” I gasped.

“For fuck’s sake, Lya. I’ll buy you a hundred daggers if we live through this,” he snapped, dragging me toward the stables.

I spotted an arrow on the ground—the same kind that had nearly killed me upstairs. I snatched it up as we ran. Evidence. Proof of who might want us dead.

Anderic practically threw me onto his horse before vaulting up behind me. His arms encircled me as he grabbed the reins, and we thundered away, leaving the remaining attackers behind.

His heart pounded against my back, his breath ragged in my ear. We were alive—for now. But the arrow clutched in my white-knuckled grip promised this was far from over.

We rode hard for what felt like hours, the thundering of hooves matching the frantic beating of my heart.

Anderic’s arms remained tight around me, his body shielding mine as we put distance between us and our attackers.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, burning away the morning mist but doing little to warm the chill that had settled in my bones.

When Anderic finally slowed our pace, we’d reached a small clearing bordered by dense pine trees. He dismounted first, scanning our surroundings with narrowed eyes before helping me down.

“I think we’ve lost them,” he said, his voice still tight with tension.

The moment my feet touched the ground, his hands were on me, turning me this way and that, checking for injuries with an urgency that belied his anger.

“I’m fine,” I insisted as he examined a small scratch on my cheek. “Truly.”

His jaw remained clenched, eyes avoiding mine as he finished his inspection. I took the opportunity to study him more carefully and spotted the dark stain spreading across his sleeve.

“You’re hurt.” I reached for his arm, but he pulled back. “Anderic, let me see.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.” I gestured to the blood seeping through the fabric. “Your ‘nothing’ is staining your ridiculously expensive shirt.”

With a reluctant sigh, he allowed me to roll up his sleeve. The gash was deep, running from his elbow almost to his wrist.

“This needs stitches,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The sight of his blood made my stomach lurch. “How did you even manage to ride like this?”

“I’ve had worse.” He pulled his arm away, tugging the sleeve back down. The movement was deliberate, creating distance between us. The argument from earlier hung in the air, unresolved and festering.

I swallowed hard and pulled the arrow from where I’d tucked it into my belt. “Look,” I said, pointing to the symbol etched into the shaft. “It’s the same mark we saw before.”

Anderic took it, his expression darkening. “They’re not even trying to hide anymore.”

“They know we’re coming for them.”

“Then we need to hurry.” He turned toward his horse, then paused. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“We don’t have any supplies. Or the royal seal.” His eyes met mine briefly before skittering away again. “We left everything back at the house.”

I bit my lip. “Without the seal, we can’t enter the fringe village where the northern mines are. No one gets in without special permission.”

Anderic’s chin lifted slightly, that familiar arrogance settling over his features. “They’ll know who I am. I’m the prince.”

The laugh escaped before I could stop it.

“Anderic, the last time you met Commander Maxwell was what, five years ago? This isn’t the capital where everyone bows at your golden curls.

Even if Maxwell somehow recognizes you, you’ll still have to get through the front guards first—and they definitely won’t.

Trust me when I say no one—not even a prince—enters the fringe without proper documentation. ”

“We’ll see.” His tone was clipped as he mounted his horse again, extending his hand to help me up.

We rode without stopping, the landscape growing harsher as we traveled north. By mid-afternoon the next day, we reached a small village nestled at the foot of snow-capped mountains—the last outpost of civilization before the fringe territories.

“We need to stop here,” I said as we approached. “This is our last chance for supplies. It’s going to get much colder from here on out.”

Anderic nodded curtly. The villagers eyed us warily as we purchased thick furs, provisions, and medical supplies. After securing our goods, I touched Anderic’s uninjured arm.

“Wait here. I need to make one more stop.”

I’d barely taken three steps before I heard him following behind me like a grumbling shadow.

“Where are you going?” he finally asked, his curiosity apparently overcoming his desire to give me the silent treatment.

I pointed to a stone building at the end of the street. “The bank.”

“Why would you need a bank?” The furrow between his brows deepened.

“I have a feeling we’re going to need a lot of money soon.” I kept walking, not elaborating further.

Inside, I approached the teller and presented my credentials. Ten minutes later, I emerged with several bank token notes, each worth a small fortune. Anderic’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the amount.

“How do you have that much money?” he asked, genuine shock breaking through his anger.

I gave him a flat stare. “I’m rich, Anderic.”

“But your family lost everything after—” He stopped himself, clearly remembering my earlier claims about changing the past even when he didn’t want to believe.

“That was the past. I’m in present, remember?” I said simply, tucking the notes into my inner pocket. “Are we going to stand here discussing my finances, or shall we continue to the mines?”

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath—likely unflattering—but mounted his horse without further comment. As we rode away from the village, the temperature dropped dramatically, and the wind carried the first biting promise of snow.

The fringe territories loomed ahead, and with them, Commander Maxwell and whatever secrets the northern mines contained. I only hoped we’d make it there before our pursuers caught up with us—or before the fragile truce between Anderic and me shattered completely.