Page 24 of Nightingale (The Broken Kingdoms #1)

T he first week and a half flew by in a blur as they continued on. The weather was nice, with a couple autumn breezes that smelled like acorns and fading leaves, of colder times to come and snow on the horizon. It rustled past her mahogany hair, bristling her bangs and on occasions when it refused to let up, she’d tuck as much of it as possible behind her ears.

Which never lasted long considering how short it was. Vrea partially regretted cutting off a good seven inches, if only for the sake of having the braid to keep her hair out of her face.

But her hair was the least of their problems.

Because when they approached the middle section of the mountain range, trouble ensued in the form of a band of rogues, determined on stripping them of every single item that they carried.

Whether it was worth something or not.

Rian was ready for them, jumping off Kohl before the animal had the chance to come to a full stop. He rolled as he hit the ground to avoid breaking anything and withdrew his sword, pointing it towards the men that threatened them with their own.

Onyx reared in fright as three men approached her, yelling at Vrea to dismount. She gathered the reins in her hand, tugging harshly to stop the mare before she hurt them both. The horse nickered and stomped her hoof along the earth as she landed, flicking her head back and forth. Vrea steadied her with a swift kick to her haunches before slipping out of the stirrups and off her back.

Her daggers were in her grip within a second as she landed with a bolt of pain at the base of her feet, flipping the steel over her knuckles. She was itching for a fight, for something to take out her wrath on that had built up over the last three years.

Anger at the King, for locking her away.

Fury at Castil for his never-ending presence.

Vexation that it took Rian to set her free.

She unleashed it all at the bandits, turning into a whirlwind of knives as they pounced. One darted for her left in an attempt to surround her as the other two moved towards her center and right, trapping her between the steep mountainside and the wall of their bodies. She refused to let that happen.

With a quick jump back and up, her heel found the stone. Vrea used it like a springing board and pushed off, gaining an inch into the air as she came down at them. Her daggers found a home in the middle male, sinking deep into his chest cavity as he screamed for help, and life. It came in the form of his friends as they tried to cut her off once more, only to meet a quick end as well.

A slash to the left’s chest, large enough that there would be no coming back for him. A chop to the right, as she severed his arm from his shoulder and left him to bleed out on his own. They both went down and she was free to turn her attention towards the next wave that hopped over the canyon lip and grabbed at their weapons.

A hammer, and an axe.

Different than she was used to fighting against, but not impossible by any standards. Her focus would have to be divided between the weight of the hammer in order to avoid getting smacked by the rectangular shape, and dodging under the cutting edge of the axe.

Both of the rogues refused to move forward, as if all they saw was a small girl with nothing more than a pretty face. She’d been told that she was alluring before, beautiful by the definition of the phrase. Even her brothers commented on her looks before, saying that it would help her become a better warrior because they wouldn’t expect it.

“Are you coming or not?” Vrea dared them to move, feigning boredom as she twirled her trusty daggers, more than delighted to have the solid feel of them back in her fingers. It was something she hadn’t realised she missed until they’d been gone, something she longed to have back.

Now they were.

And so was the weapon in the form of a woman.

Some would say it was a deadly thing.

They struck, the fat hammer swinging above her head as she fell into a roll and swiped at the back of his knees, aiming for the weak spot that would take him down for good.

He moved out of the way just in time and she met nothing but air, whirling around as she spun on her knee. The axe followed suit, and she angled her chin away before it could take a chunk of her flesh with it.

Vrea rose and darted back, blocking another advance with her daggers in the form of an X, one across the other as the hook of the axe slammed into the middle of them. She grunted at the additional weight they added, sliding back in the dirt as the man added his shoulder to force her off. He kicked at her knee, a bark of pain escaping her as she stumbled down, losing her grip.

Rian’s head turned towards her, slamming his fist into the face of the man he was in the midst of fighting with, breaking his nose in a clean hit and cleaving the air with a grotesque crunch.

She found her footing quickly before it could end her, running to Rian’s horse and yanking the bow free, tossing it over her head and grabbing the quiver full of arrows. Her daggers were quickly placed back at her sides as she hoisted the leather strap over her shoulder. Vrea dashed to the side of the pass and she threw herself against the wall for a second height advantage. Her fingers flailed as she struggled to find a safe nook, taking loose pebbles with her as she slid down it.

Her hand caught on a small ledge, her body slamming into it with an oomphf. The fiery sensation rocketed against her ribcage and she inhaled sharply to regain her breath before she hauled herself up the side.

Vrea climbed.

And she was followed.

The taller of the two males started up after her, finding natural juts in the rock as he jumped from one spot to another. The length of his arms were an additional help as he lifted himself up faster than she would ever be able to.

The second turned his attention to the Prince, who sent his elbow flying back into a groin, shoving his sword directly through the back of a neck and jerking it to the side with a sickening snap as the man died.

He removed it and didn’t bother to wipe it clean as he angled it with his arm and struck up a round with another, swiftly avoiding the axe to the side of his head. She kept taking moments to care for his welfare, even if everything inside of her screamed against it, told her that it was a foolish idea.

She couldn’t help it.

For some reason, there was an ounce of care for the Moordian Prince.

A flicker of attraction, a lick of desire and a dash of curiosity that all mixed into a fascinating, slightly terrifying swirl of confusion. The dinner, the hallway incident where he’d kissed her and tasted of pepper and a fueling fire. Even if he’d stoked her rage in that moment, insulted her and made her want nothing from him again, there was still that temptation of pinning him to the ground and seeing what came of it.

What was it that he said?

“I’m going to fuck you like I hate you.”

Vrea wanted that more than she wanted air.

She wanted to see how he fulfilled that promise, and there were multiple ideas that swirled in her head together. Especially after she’d seen the full glory of him as he’d entered the stream.

Maybe tonight she’d try.

Try to continue what he’d started before.

Sex could be just that, nothing more, nothing attached to it.

Vrea shoved those delicious thoughts out of her head as she climbed for her life. A higher vantage point meant a better shot.

When she reached the top, the first thing she did was whip an arrow out of the leather quiver and nock it, drawing her arm back as far as it would go, until the feathers ticked her cheek. The female lowered her aim for the man that was three-fourths up the cliff, angling the arrow tip and setting it free.

The twisted string twanged and the tension relaxed as the arrow dove into his chest like a seagull plunging for a mouthful of fish in the salty sea. He let out a warbled cry, dropped his heavy hammer and plummeted to the earth faster than an onslaught of rain and the storm that almost always followed.

A wet splat sounded.

She took that as confirmation that he was dead and sent her focus towards one of the six men that attacked Rian. It appeared to be never-ending.

Vrea notched another arrow, flipping the shaft until it correctly lined up with her target and let it sail. It struck the back of the closest man, Rian groaning as a spear pierced his lower torso and he went down.

Someone hurdled for him.

She didn’t take the time to think, rapidly pulling another free and not even aiming before letting it fly. It went clean through the male’s head, poking out his eye socket within a second of entry. He went down, as did another as the Prince drove his sword through another’s leg.

That left three, one of which was making for her.

Trying to take the higher threat out before she could wipe them all out. Vrea was ready for him, pulling the cord back as far as it could go and holding until the climber was within reach. Rian could handle the remaining two for a minute, even in his injured state. The first arrow missed, as did the second as the man swerved out of the way in time.

He laughed and continued his climb, even faster.

Vrea was down to one last arrow, inserting it against the thin string and ignoring the hiss of pain on her left arm from where the string had slapped. A red mark was slowly forming on her dark skin, one she knew would bruise over the next few days.

A bruise was a bruise.

She wasn’t that prideful of her appearance.

Vrea lined up her target in her eyesight, bringing the wooden shaft against her arms length and touching the striped feathers to her cheek once again for the best aim. She held and held until she was sure of her mark, releasing the arrow and it buried itself into the man’s tall neck. He spit red, gurgling and choking himself to death as he tried to remove the stick, which only resulted in a quick succession of blood that ended his life even faster.

He died before he smacked against the earth.

Rian let out a noise of distress and she whipped around to see the reason why. He’d disarmed the second man, slamming him against the floor and somehow crushed his head to the point where there was nothing recognizable left. But the last one had him on his back, against the ground as they rolled for control.

Her heart was a nervous wardrum as she plucked one of her daggers free of her belt, rearranging it in her palm to throw, as Teminos had taught her all those years ago. She’d never needed to use them like that before, and there was a pounding anxiety that she tried to push past as she waited for a clear moment to throw.

The very last thing she wanted was to kill her guide and make her way through Carylim blindly. There was no way that she’d get past the spiders without anyone else. It would be almost impossible to sneak past their caverns undetected, let alone by herself. Two chances were always better than one. Not that she liked admitting that, even to herself. Needing help was a weakness, one taught to be shoved away from a young age in Niroula.

Rian struggled and he was losing, badly.

The man had a good four inches of height on him, as well as extra body mass in his shoulders and legs. There was thick muscle in his stomach and back, in the way the joints rippled with each movement.

Vrea just had to hit him.

Rian could remove the weapon and use it to his advantage, but if she didn’t act now then she’d lose him for good.

She couldn’t deny that there was hesitation towards letting another Moordian die. Her mother would be more than proud and her brothers would clap her on the back for a job well done. He was the Prince that she’d been sent to kill in the first place, and now she was free. There was a sweet irony in it, one that she longed to sample. Completion, an end to her last mission.

He could die here and now by the hands of another. Another that would hunt her in turn once he finished killing Rian.

With that thought, the hesitation was over.

Vrea hurled her dagger and watched as it sank into the massive man’s back. Near the spine and as she started her descent down the mountain, she caught sight of the Prince as he rolled them over once more and used every bit of his body weight to slam the rogue back against the ground.

She immediately understood what he was doing.

Rian repeated the motion and the man didn’t last long after the third time.

She jumped off the remainder, the soles of her feet aching as she could have waited a bit more before leaving the cliffside.

Rian panted heavily, shoving the man to the side and flipping his damp hair out of his gaze as he looked up at her. “You hesitated.”

“Can you blame me?” Vrea tucked a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear, her own exhaustion pooling hard. “But you’re alive so a thank you would be nice.”

Even in his tired state, he produced a light chuckle and shook his sweaty head as he returned to his full height with a brush of dirt off his knees. “Thank you, Vre.”

He laughed even harder as shock settled into her.

She regretted saving his life.