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Another Sardi soldier fell at his feet, and Lodan stepped forward. Shadows from the walls darkened the battlefield, and the ancient buildings appeared twisted and grotesque, looming half in shadow and half in sun. The sounds of battle echoed around him, but he searched for only one thing—the golden-plumed helm. He growled and aimed for the deepest recess of the courtyard. In every other battle with the Sardi, King Harl hung at the back of the ranks, rarely fighting himself, always surrounded by a cluster of guards. Today was the same, except Harl couldn’t slink away from the battle and escape into the forests. Today, this war would end one way or the other.

The battle raged for hours, the Myrdinians slowly pushing the Sardi back from the front gate, but still more Sardi troops slithered from the back of the fort like snakes. It was almost mythical, as if killing one Sardi made two others spring up in his place, but Lodan’s men held on.

This was the moment. All the pain, all the suffering, all the death, it was finally time for the king to fall. The anger burned inside him, and he clutched his sword harder.

Gold flashed to his left, and he turned.

The king stood between two thick columns before the building which once may have been the fort’s great hall. He held his sword ready for battle but didn’t fight, shouting orders that no one heard because none of his guards were near him.

The king was unprotected.

This was the moment. Every drop of blood, every scar, every fallen warrior had led him to this moment. The faces of his parents and his sister flickered through his mind.

He bared his teeth, and charged.

“Lodan!”

He froze. He knew that voice. He’d know it anywhere. “Kassandra?” Whirling away from Harl, his foot slipped in a pool of blood. Where was she? Why was she here? If Kassandra was really here, he needed to find her. Get her far away from the battle.

A large, black Sardi horse with four white socks galloped around a corner, followed by several other horses carrying warriors wearing unfamiliar armor. Like an avenging queen galloping into battle, Kassandra sat astride Zephyr.

Kassandra reined Zephyr in.

“Go back,” he shouted, but she didn’t hear.

All the anger clawing at him for revenge, ripping at him to fight longer, to slash harder, morphed instantly into a different demand. He needed to protect her.

His destiny lay entwined with hers. He still cared about Anatolia, about freedom from the ways of the Sardi, but he cared because he wanted the world to be a place where she could be happy. Where they could be happy together.

Having driven him on for fifteen years, anger was a close friend. And an enemy.

But his wrath, his vengeance, was nothing compared to how he felt when he looked at Kassandra. She’d shattered all the brittle, broken pieces inside him, and forged them into something new. Forged his heart into something new.

There was only space in his heart for his anger or for his feelings for her, and he had to choose.

Run to Kassandra and protect her. Or kill Harl. Love or vengeance. He couldn’t have both. The world didn’t work that way. His world didn’t work that way.

Meeting his gaze, Kassandra yelled something, but he couldn’t hear over the noise of the battle. She scanned the ground as if looking for something.

Then she slid off Zephyr.

“No,” he shouted. She needed to get out of here.

In that moment, he chose. He wasn’t sure it was ever even a choice. She was his from the first moment he’d seen her. He just hadn’t realized exactly how much.

He sprinted for her. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe and getting her out of here. Nothing. She was all that mattered.

A heavy figure slammed into his side, spinning him sideways. Lodan crashed to the ground, his sword skidding across the cobblestones.

Black armor gleaming in the dying sunlight, a Sardi soldier stood over him, his golden plume cascading above his helm.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of unkillable fighter? Look at you.” The king spat, missing Lodan’s face by a few inches. His studied Lodan through narrowed eyes. “I remember you.”

“Good. You should know the man who’s going to kill you.” Anger no longer drove him. It was the need to end this fight forever. To create peace.

For her.

Harl’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “I can’t believe you survived. Guess I need to finish the job now.”

Harl swung.

Lodan rolled, and the king’s sword rang against the cobblestones. Lodan grabbed his sword from the ground and raised it before him just as Harl’s second blow crashed down. Bronze blade screeched on bronze blade. Lodan heaved mightily, pushing. Harl staggered backward, and Lodan flipped onto his feet.

Harl snarled and struck again. Lodan parried, then returned a blow. Kassandra’s shouts filled the air, and Lodan shouted again, “Kassandra, get out of here!”

Harl swept with his sword, aiming for Lodan’s neck. Lodan twisted, and the blow skidded across his breastplate. “Trying to help my sister?” Harl laughed and swung again. This time, Lodan swung, too, meeting Harl’s blow mid-strike. The king’s smile slipped, and he grunted, scrabbling to keep his balance.

Lodan swung again, hitting the king in the side where the armor turned to leather. His sword bit deep. “That was for my sister.”

Harl sidestepped, stabbing at Lodan’s thigh, but Lodan batted it away. He returned the blow, striking Harl in the hip. “That was for my parents.”

Harl raised his sword again, but Lodan smashed his sword down on Harl’s hilt, and her brother’s sword clattered to the ground. “That was for Kassandra.”

Raising his sword, Lodan aimed for the king’s neck. “This is for Anatolia.”