Page 18 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

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T he moon radiated a silver glow over the governor's mansion as we approached under the cover of darkness. Our plan was meticulously laid out—enter through the secret passage Silas had learned about at the Rose Petal, liberate Avery's operatives, and escape without drawing the attention of the entire garrison stationed at the mansion.

“The entrance is just beyond that old willow tree,” Silas whispered, pointing to a gnarled silhouette against the night sky. “There's a hidden door masked by the roots that leads straight to the cellars beneath the mansion.”

Ronan nodded. With a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he scanned the perimeter for any sign of guards. I clutched a small dagger hidden up my sleeve, my senses heightened to any sound.

We moved stealthily with barely the rustle of leaves underfoot. As we neared the willow, Ronan paused and held up a hand to signal a halt. Seconds later, two guards appeared from around the corner, laughing quietly and completely oblivious to the intruders in their midst.

“Wait for them to pass,” Ronan murmured.

But as we waited, one guard paused and tilted his head as if catching an unusual sound. My heart pounded in my ears and I tightened the grip on my dagger. The guards moved closer to where we crouched. Confrontation seemed inevitable.

Silas motioned subtly, then swiftly stepped from the shadows with his blade already drawn, the metal shimmering under the moonlight. Before the nearest guard could react, Silas struck him down silently and efficiently. Ronan sprang into action against the second guard, his movements a blur as he engaged in a brief, fierce scuffle that ended with the guard unconscious on the ground.

“Quick, this way!” Silas led us to the hidden door nestled among the willow’s roots. When he pushed against the wood, it gave way with a soft creak to reveal a narrow tunnel that led down into darkness.

We descended into the dank, musty air of the tunnel. The walls were damp and a thin layer of water on the packed dirt floor announced every footstep. The passage was barely wide enough for us to walk upright without brushing against the cold, wet stone.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached the end of the tunnel and emerged into the mansion’s dimly lit cellar. Within seconds, our eyes adjusted to the dim light and we looked around, familiarizing ourselves with the layout and the direction we needed to take.

Silas had memorized the path and confidently led us through a labyrinth of corridors beneath the mansion. We knew we’d reached the dungeon area when we smelled mold and heard faint, distant groans.

Two guards stationed outside the cell block stood abruptly when we approached with our weapons drawn. Ronan charged forward without hesitation, clashing swords with the first guard. Silas tackled the other, his experience as a Crimson Clan warrior evident in his precise, brutal fighting style.

I stayed back and scanned the area for additional threats, my heart pounding with the adrenaline of the fight. After incapacitating the guards, Ronan quickly searched for keys, finding them in the first guard’s pocket.

We darted down the corridor and began our search cell by cell for the two women. When we reached a fork, Ronan and I turned left and Silas turned right. We saw rows of ragged, hungry men who begged us to free them. When one of them reached out to grab my pant leg, I shrieked.

Ronan hurried to my side and removed the man’s hand from my body. “Stay near me.” Gripping my hand tightly, we continued our search.

Suddenly, we heard Silas yell, “They’re here!”

We hurriedly retraced our steps to the right fork and found him six cells down. We peered inside the dank cell and saw two women—one with the striking features reminiscent of Keldara and another who bore crimson eyes, a tell-tale sign of the Crimson Clan. They looked up warily, but hope glimmered in their eyes.

“We’re here to get you out,” Ronan announced as he unlocked the cell door.

Understandably suspicious, neither of the women got up. Then the Crimson Clan woman slowly stood. “You’re Ronan, son of Chief Aryan. What are you doing here?”

“We were sent by Princess Avery,” I said, then winced because I didn’t know if these women knew her identity or not.

The Keldaran woman gave a relieved sigh and worked to stand, stumbling. “Oh, thank the gods!”

Battered but unbroken, their eyes were hardened with the resolve to survive and fight another day.

As we pushed open the door at the base of the willow and emerged from the secret passage, the quiet of early dawn was shattered by the unmistakable clamor of armor. Guards had been alerted to our intrusion and were converging on our position from multiple directions. Their swords caught the first glint of dawn as torches flickered in their hands, throwing long, sinister shadows on the ground.

“Leila, stay near me!” Ronan’s command cut through the chaos, his voice steady and demanding. Silas and I quickly pushed the rescued women behind Ronan and positioned ourselves back-to-back with him, ready to fend off the approaching guards.

Drawing upon the latent power within my blood, I used the dagger to slice my palm and waited until crimson droplets pooled in my hand. With grim resolve, I transformed the dripping blood into sharp, whip-like tendrils.

Ronan met the first guard who charged with a fierce parry, his counterstrike swift and decisive. Silas engaged another with precise, lethal movements.

Swinging my arm into the air, I directed the blood tendrils to lash out toward our attackers. They wrapped around a guard's legs and violently yanked him off his feet. As the other guards gaped in open shock, I reshaped my blood to a bow and arrows and waited. The first guard to fix his courage and storm toward me faced a sudden burst of blood-turned-arrows that struck him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling.

Clashing steel and groans from wounded guards rent the dawn, the scene made more sinister by the eerie sight of my blood magic manufacturing a crimson glow. Despite being overwhelmingly outmanned, our small group's skill with blades and my magic kept our attackers at bay.

The skirmish was intense but brief. As the tides turned in our favor, Ronan shouted, “Head into the village! We'll lose them in the crowd!”

Even in the dawn hours, Lomewood was already bustling with villagers setting up market stalls and early risers beginning their day. We ducked into the busy streets, weaving through vendors setting up for the market. The smell of fresh bread and morning dew mixed with the dirt kicked up by hurried footsteps created a heady bouquet that almost made me forget the peril in which we found ourselves.

As we maneuvered through narrow alleys and crowded stalls, the distinctive sound of the guards' metallic armor faded into the background noises of the village. Ronan guided us with a determined pace, his eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit or further threats. Darting around the corner of a building, he turned around to face our small group. “We must remain vigilant. Let’s return to the clinic and plan our next move from there.”

We kept a low profile as we navigated the village, mingling with the morning crowd until we reached the safety of my clinic. The risk was far from over, but for now, the immediate danger had passed.

We barreled into my clinic and quickly locked the door behind us, then peeked through the closed curtains to ensure we hadn’t been followed. The atmosphere inside was starkly different from the tense escape we'd just undertaken.

“Where are we?” the Keldaran woman asked as she scanned the familiar yet foreign surroundings of my clinic.

I shrugged one shoulder. “This is my clinic.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, fully intending to keep my identity under wraps for a little while longer.

The woman from the Crimson Clan gave a snort of amusement. “You're Princess Lyanna, aren't you? There’s no need to hide your identity from us. We're well aware who you are.”

A nervous chuckle escaped me. “Seems like it's no longer a secret.” Crossing the room to a small stove, I began to prepare some tea for us. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

The Crimson Clan woman cautiously took a seat at the modest table, unconvinced by our motives, while the Keldaran was more relaxed as she surveyed the room with a curious gaze. Ronan paced restlessly, while Silas retained his vigil at the window, ensuring our safety.

I placed the kettle on to boil and shook my head. “Ronan, please , either sit down or hold still. You're making me jittery.”

He stopped pacing, though his expression was troubled. “It was too easy,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

The Keldaran raised an eyebrow. “Too easy? Are you kidding?”

Ronan turned toward the two women. “It felt like they were expecting us,” he said, suspicion creeping into his tone.

I paused in the act of pulling teacups down from the cupboard. “You know, you might be onto something,” I mused aloud. “There were hardly any guards in the dungeon, but the instant we stepped outside, there was an ambush. Is it possible they expected a jailbreak?”

“Quite possibly,” Ronan conceded, then directed his attention back to our guests. “Did you hear anything while you were down there?”

The woman from the Crimson Clan cleared her throat. “Not much, but Prince Caelan did bless us with his presence a few times.” She rolled her eyes. “The guards threatened that he would return to interrogate us more thoroughly, but he never did.”

I had to agree with Ronan – it was awfully suspicious. “Do you think you were imprisoned because Caelan assumed you were with us? That would make sense, given one of you is from the Crimson Clan and the other is from Keldara, with whom we now have an alliance.”

Ronan slowly nodded as pieces of the convoluted puzzle seemed to fall into place. “It's likely.”

The Keldaran woman gave a relieved sigh. “At least that means Princess Avery is safe for now.” Her dark eyes darted to me. “No offense.”

“None taken.” I handed both women a steaming cup of tea. “Considering the situation, it's probably safer if Caelan thinks you're spies for us and not his sister.”

The women nodded, cautiously sipping their tea. “How will we rejoin with Princess Avery?” the woman from the Crimson Clan inquired.

“We've arranged to meet tomorrow in the Silent Mountains,” I explained, then glanced at Ronan and Silas. “We'll need to figure out a discreet exit from Lomewood.”

“I recommend we wait until night to leave,” Silas suggested, finally turning from the window. “Or just before dawn. I can go find Princess Avery and confirm the time.”

I nodded. “That sounds like a plan. You'll find her at the Rose Petal. Look for a woman with a red wig and hazel eyes—unmistakably the same as Caelan’s.”

Silas nodded that he understood and moved towards the door. “I'll head out now.”

“Be careful,” I called after him. With a quick nod, he slunk out into the street. Ronan closed the door behind him and turned the bolt with a decisive click.

Once the door closed, the clinic fell into a strained silence, broken only by the soft clink of teacups as the two women sipped the warm tea. The Keldaran woman glanced around the modest space, her gaze lingering on the medical charts and herbs lining the shelves. “This is quite a modest setup for a princess,” she commented with a wry smile.

I shrugged, a small laugh escaping me. “Well, princess is just a title. Healing is what I do.” I settled into a chair opposite them as we tried to piece together our next move. The clinic, usually a place of calm and healing, felt like the eye of a storm.

Ronan finally stopped pacing and leaned against the wall with his arms folded and his brows furrowed in thought. “It’s worrying that Caelan was expecting something. We need to be more cautious.”

The Crimson Clan woman set her cup down with a decisive clack. “He’s been a step ahead more times than not,” she admitted. “But this time, we have an edge. He doesn’t know we’re working with his sister.”

“True,” I mused, wrapping my hands around my own cup for warmth. “And Avery’s information could change everything. We just need to get it.”

Ronan nodded, his face hardening with resolve. “Once we meet back up with Avery, we’ll have a better understanding of what we’re up against.”