Lost Princess (24 page)

Right now, Dakota and Tristan seemed in agreement on how to handle the situation, but they could disagree at some point.

“Dakota and Tristan, could I speak with you both for a minute?”

Tristan gestured toward the dragons and said something else to Jimmy, then met up with Dakota and approached her.

Dakota spoke before she had the chance. “He’s not down there.”

Tristan glanced over his shoulder toward the cliff. “How could you possibly know that? There’s no way you could see who’s fighting down there.”

Dakota shook his head. “I don’t need to see. I know Chayce. He’s cocky, arrogant, and mostly a coward. After our army fought Daygan and his savages the last time, Jackson spent forever combing the remnants of the battlefield for Chayce’s body. Everyone assumed he was dead, because no one had seen him.” He stared hard at Ryleigh. “No one saw him, because he wasn’t there.”

Dakota could be right. Jackson had been so relieved when he returned and found Chayce safe in the make-shift infirmary. “Where is he then?”

Dakota grinned. “I’ll bet you anything, he’s sitting on his throne feeling important while his creatures die defending him.”

“So what do you want to do? Go to the throne room?”

Dakota was already nodding. “It’s the only place I can think of looking.”

“Won’t there be guards?” Tristan’s scowl mirrored Dakota’s.

“Maybe a few, but they can be easily removed.”

“Easily? Those things don’t seem too easy to kill.”

A shiver of unease crept up Ryleigh’s spine.

Dakota didn’t seem to notice her discomfort as he continued. “Savages are strong, but there are ways of killing them if you can catch them by surprise. Their skulls are softer than human’s, easier to penetrate in spots.”

Nausea threatened.

Tristan only nodded. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

Ryleigh fought the sickness back. “Wait a minute. I wanted to talk to you both about something.” She worked to keep her voice level and not sound apologetic. This was the right choice. For now. “Dakota, when this mission is completed, do you plan to return to the Death Dealer squad?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“I’d be honored to have you as a permanent member of my army if you’re interested.” Whoa. Where had that come from? She didn’t plan on staying in Cymmera permanently.

A blush crept up his cheeks. “I’m flattered, Ryleigh, but I’ve trained a long time to make the Death Dealer squad.”

She pushed the thoughts aside. It didn’t matter right now. All that mattered at the moment, was finding Mia and Jackson and making sure they were okay. “It’s all right, Dakota, I just wanted to make sure. I need to put someone in charge.” She grinned. “Someone besides me. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

Of all the men with her, she trusted Dakota the most. He cared for Mia, was her friend. He’d do anything in his power to defend her. “Dakota, I’d like you to lead this mission, since you are the most knowledgeable about the situation.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, My Queen, thank you.”

Wind whipped her hair into her face. She brushed it back with a snow-covered hand. Ice crystals clung to her cheeks. “Tristan.”

He stood at attention.

“I’d be honored if you would lead the Queen’s Army once this mission is complete and you’ve had sufficient time to train in our world.” She waited, hoping he’d accept her offer to remain with them. And, if he stayed, maybe Noah would stay too. Melted snow dripped down her face into the collar of her sweatshirt.

Tristan glanced at Dakota before turning back to her. “I’d be honored. Thank you, My Queen.” He bowed his head as Dakota had.

“Great. Thank you, both. Now. Can we please find Mia?” She headed for Kalayah.

Dakota held up a hand to stop her. “We’re going to walk in. The dragons will be safer here, and I’m hoping we can enter the castle undetected without them. If we can take him by surprise, it’ll be easier. If he has time to summon his guards…” He shrugged. “Not so much. We’d have to fight our way in, and Chayce would probably run before we ever reached him.”

“Very well.” She started back toward the woods.

Dakota fell into step beside her and leaned close. “Is there any way I can convince you to return to Cymmera, or at least wait here?”

She pinned him with a glare. “Not on your life, Dakota.” And kept walking.

Her thighs ached from trudging through the deep snow. At least the burn kept her from focusing too intently on Mia’s fate. And Jackson’s. What she wouldn’t give for a cell phone right now, so she could call and see if Ranger and Noah had found Jackson yet. Would she know if he was dead? Would she feel the loss? She felt certain Mia was still alive, but that was probably because she was unable to accept anything could have happened to her little sister, rather than some cosmic connection.

Things had gotten too far out of control.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and froze almost instantly. She’d stopped shivering a while ago, but not because she was able to regulate her body temperature as she could in Cymmera. She was probably just numb.

She stuck her hand into her pocket, her fingers hitting something hard. The Divination Stone. Elijah had said it would work as long as it was with her. She pulled it out and sought answers.

She weaved the small stone between her fingers, unable to decide what she needed to know most. Heat tingled in her palm. She’d just let the stone decide, or the fates, or the queens of the past. Whoever would offer guidance at this point. A swirl of black circled the inside of the stone. She paused, looked deeper.

An image formed. Jackson. She had no doubt is was his silhouette in the stone’s center, recognized him instantly. But who was the woman beside him. Small. Delicate. Mia? No. This slight figure didn’t have Mia’s mass of curls. Someone else. Jackson put his arm around the figure and pulled her closer.

Jealousy flared. Hot and angry. Had he left her? Found someone else? Adrenaline surged through her system.

The image faded.

She shoved the stone into her pocket, the agony of heartbreak battering her.

“Psst.”

What the…? Ryleigh stilled. Listened to the wind howl through the forest. Then slid toward the shadows at the base of a tree and glanced over her shoulder.

Dakota held his hand in front of him, palm down, and lowered it.

Ryleigh crouched, lowering herself as silently as possible into the snow. She gripped the handle of her sword but prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. She had no feeling left in her fingers. Pressing her back to the tree, she kept her gaze firmly locked on Dakota and listened intently.

The other men must have taken cover, because they’d disappeared from sight.

Dakota pointed past the tree she was cowering behind, then placed a finger against his lips.

Oh, please. Like she’d really make any noise right now. She started to huff out a frustrated breath, then froze, trapping the air in her lungs, not wanting whoever was there to see the puff of vapor. She angled her head downward and breathed into Jackson’s sweatshirt.

A sound startled her from her thoughts. She strained to listen.

Wind blowing, trees creaking, sporadic cracks and thuds as branches gave way beneath the weight of accumulated snow.

A crunch broke the silence, what could have been a foot breaking through the pristine layer of snow. Then a clang. Definitely metal on metal. A sword hitting something? No. Different.

Dakota dove toward her, knocked her to the ground, and rolled. An arrow pierced the tree a fraction of an inch from his head.

A mouthful of snow gagged her as he grabbed her arm and pulled her around the other side of the tree, then shoved her forward. A dirty taste filled her mouth, moldy, stale.

Dakota yanked her to her feet and propelled her through a narrow gap between two closely spaced trees.

They ran, or at least tried.

She strained to wade through the drifts.

Dakota gestured toward a clearing. He had to be crazy. They’d be sitting ducks out there. And where were her soldiers?

Swirling snow almost blinded her, reducing visibility to next to nothing.

Dakota gripped her arm, none too gently, and shoved her into the clearing.

Six men strode toward them through the snow. Not her men, but strangers.

A scream from behind her.

Pulling her sword from the scabbard, she whirled toward the sound.

Two savages tried to wrestle free of Ryleigh’s soldiers. They wouldn’t make it.

She returned her focus to the advancing warriors.

Dakota stepped in front of her.

“No.” She sidestepped and shot him an apologetic look. “I can’t see with you in front of me.”

“There’s nothing to see. Your army will be finished dispatching the savages in a minute. They’ll be here in time to fight for you.”

The men moved closer.

Grunting still sounded from behind her.

She didn’t dare turn. Instead, she held her ground. Braced herself.

“Aim to kill, Ryleigh. There’s no time to play games.” Dakota steadied his stance beside her.

Twenty feet away, the strangers surged forward, keeping in a perfect V formation, their leader in front. At least, she assumed he was the leader from the elaborate design on his shield. The others carried only weapons, with no decoration.

Though they wore helmets, their faces were exposed. Something familiar about one of them. She’d seen him before. Didn’t know him, but had seen him in Cymmera when he’d been part of the Guard.

Her gut churned. How could she fight to kill these men? Oh, no! No! Please, stop. Don’t do this. Her silent plea did nothing to stop them.

They charged, weapons raised.

Ryleigh froze.

Dakota met the attack, sword lifted.

A few of her men dove past her and into the melee, but the sounds of battle still raged behind her where the savages had attacked. Her men were outnumbered. There was no way they could win this.

Her breath rushed in and out. Fear held her immobilized as the fight thundered around her. She longed to slap her hands over her ears, to curl into a ball and bury her head beneath a blanket. To feel the warmth of the flames crackling in the fireplace. To surrender herself to Jackson, allow him to claim her and take care of her, protect her.

Whoa, where did that come from?

She shook the thoughts off. Something was wrong with her. In this midst of a war, she wanted nothing more than to sleep. Exhaustion? No. Different. Hypnotic.

One of the enemy soldiers lurched past Dakota, and took aim at Ryleigh. Sword lifted over his head, he rushed her.

He was a young man, not much older than her. His cheeks burned red with the cold. Tufts of blond curls escaped his helmet. Only a boy. Human.

I can’t do this.

He attacked, swinging the sword down toward her.

A blow came from her side, and Dakota knocked her to the ground as Jimmy plunged past her, sword raised to halt the attack.

“Snap out of it, Ryleigh.” Dakota’s breath fell hot on her neck as he rolled off her.

Why had it been so easy to fight the savages? Because they were less civilized, appeared more monster than human? Maybe if they were treated better they’d be—

Dakota slapped her cheek. Hard. “Fight it. Keep your mouth closed.”

He helped her to sit, crouched over her. “It’s the snow. Daygan’s magic still taints it. It can’t work if you don’t give in to it.” He gripped her face. Brought her gaze to his. “Fight it, Ryleigh. Now.”

A savage screamed as he plunged easily through the snow banks.

Dakota left her and lunged forward.

She fell back to lay in the snow, staring straight up into the storm. The cloud of snow separated into millions of tiny shards. Fascinating. Mesmerizing. Ice pummeled her, stinging her skin.

“Ryleigh,” Tristan yelled, his voice filled with panic.

She rolled, narrowly avoiding the axe a man buried through the snow and into the ground where her head had been an instant before. She grabbed the handle and kicked out, sweeping the warrior’s feet from beneath him.

He grunted as he landed sprawled on his back, the axe still embedded in the ground.

Okay, enough of this. She wouldn’t assassinate an unarmed man, but if he went for the axe, all bets were off. She jumped to her feet, sword held ready, feet planted as firmly as possible in the deep snow.

The warrior rolled, grabbing the axe as he went, then lunged to his feet, yanking the weapon from the ground.

The axe arced toward her.

She countered, the heavy sword throwing her off balance. She stepped to the side.

The whistle of a sword passed her head as another man attacked from behind.

She balanced herself, swung to the right with a two handed grip. Holding her sword steady, she ran it through his gut.

He fell, sword dropping to the ground as he clutched his belly.

Without hesitation, she whirled around and lifted her weapon to block the next attack from the man with the axe.

He swung again, missed, spinning with the momentum and attacking again.

She searched in vain for an opening. Nothing. She could barely defend herself.

Tristan appeared from nowhere, threading his arm around the man’s neck and snapping it in one smooth motion.

Silence descended. The howl of the wind died down. Was that it? Had they won? She had to see if any of her men were hurt. Her gaze fell on the man she’d felled. He lay still, his eyes open.

Ryleigh dropped to her knees. Her stomach heaved. She crawled behind a small cluster of trees, leaving a trail in the snow with the blood-covered sword she dragged behind her, and vomited.

* * * *

Voices intruded, penetrating the peaceful haze of oblivion. Familiar.

Jackson fought to ignore them. A tidal wave of pain surged over him.

“Jackson!” The sting of a slap across his cheek punctuated the word.

Not again.

“Are you sure you should be slapping him?” A second voice.

“We have to get him awake. I can’t do anything for him here.”

A hand gripped Jackson’s throat.

He struggled in his mind, but his body couldn’t obey the command to fight. He hung limply from the shackles binding his wrists to the wall, the burn in his shoulders nearly unbearable.