She hadn’t been thinking about it as she followed Hayden into the woods, but the forest was dark and secluded, especially with the sun nearly set and the fire burned out behind her. She was surrounded by darkness, perfect for prying eyes to hide, and many were.

  The putrid stench of body odor she didn’t recognize surrounded her. Definitely not Hayden’s dirty hand silencing her. She thrashed against it, randomly elbowing and clawing for freedom—

  Stop!

  Hayden’s voice rang in her ears so clearly it was as if he were speaking directly into them. She ceased her struggling, going limp as she listened to his ghostly commands: If you panic, you die. He has the upper hand, but you can use his strength against him.

  Grunting she pitched forward against him, using all her body weight to force his onto her then digging her feet into the soft ground she jumped up and back, slamming the back of her head into his nose. He yelped, releasing his hold long enough for her to cry out and slip free. She screamed, knowing she’d need backup as soon as he regained his senses. Hers were a bit fuzzy with spots of light and color occluding her eyesight.

  She stumbled out of reach then turned to face him. He was taller than her but short and round by male standards with a scraggly beard smeared with blood from his nose. A bandit perhaps? This was close to the woods where Hayden and Marilla had first encountered the Oakmire Bandits she had been told.

  Whoever he was, his eyes reddened with fury as he lunged forward to grab her. She dodged his grasp, thrusting a fist into his exposed throat. He wheezed, coughing as he stumbled back. Good, the imaginary Hayden praised. Aim for his vulnerable parts, and don’t be afraid to rip off ears or gouge out eyes. Survival is the goal here.

  The two blows she had landed only seemed to make him stronger with fury as he rushed her again with his full body. His enraged eyes were intimidating, they fazed her as he rushed forward, but she managed to keep her footing.

  Your side is wide open.

  Widen your stance.

  A kick is coming, drop.

  Pivot.

  Strike!

  Her fist connected with his gut, and he stumbled back, grunting. Hayden burst through the trees behind her, his swords out and hair tangled with twigs and other debris. His narrowed eyes glowed with rage but also with worry. With fear. He saw her and rushed forward to meet her before seeing the threat who was retreating into the surrounding trees. Hayden took a step to make chase but didn’t, his jaw working. He would not leave Marilla standing exposed to run after her attacker. It would be like sacrificing his most precious parts to launch an uncertain attack. What if more were waiting? Watching and waiting for Marilla to be left unguarded?

  “I’m on it!” Vince said as he ran past Hayden after the princess’ attacker as if reading Hayden’s thoughts.

  Marilla was suddenly surrounded by warriors, Kayda giving her a quick once over. “I’m sorry,” Marilla breathed as everyone pressed in around her. She had worried them. She looked up at Hayden who was deeply bothered by hearing her scream, his hair disheveled from fighting his way through the brush, and he was covered in scratches from snapped branches. “I was worried, so I followed you,” she explained. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

  Hayden reached for her, his palm brushing her cheek as his fingers fisted into her hair, pulling her into his chest so his hay and grass scent washed away the foul odor of her attacker. His lips brushed her forehead, fingers clenching and eyebrows knitting with worry.

  He could have lost her.

  She tried to reach up and wrap her arms around him too but her left side caught. She flinched when she tried to lift her arm, pain brushing her ribcage. She stepped back, pain suddenly consistent and looked down. Blood. There was a red crimson stain on her dress. She tried to lift her arm again just to get a better look, but it would hardly budge. Each movement furthered the sting and sharp ache.

  “The princess is hurt!” Kayda cried, looking up at Hayden whose deep green eyes were round with horror and fear she had never witnessed from him before. Marilla seemed to be in shock, the excess adrenaline wearing thin, but Hayden was simply frozen in his own terror.

  Kayda reached forward and helped Marilla, steering her back towards camp for Cornelia to take a look. That’s when Hayden seemed to snap back to reality and sweep between the two, scooping Marilla against him and into his arms. She grunted as he did so, and Kayda was quick to remind him, “Careful, we don’t know what other injuries she may have.”

  Marilla couldn’t recall when she had been cut. She hadn’t even realized her attacker had a blade pressed to her. Hadn’t known he was armed. She flinched again as the vibrations from Hayden’s quick steps vibrated her as well. She wanted to tell him she was okay but wasn’t certain how true that was. She tried to do a once over, see if any other body parts revealed an unknown injury, but only her left side felt pain. Stinging and sharp as it was.

  “What’s happened?” Cornelia wanted to know as Hayden gently laid Marilla down onto the warm ground by the doused fire-pit. She had stayed in camp with a handful of warriors guarding their supplies in case the scream was a decoy to lure everyone away from camp.

  “Marilla was attacked,” Hayden explained curtly, unwrapping the sash that held her dress in place and ripping away the excess fabric to expose the sticky with blood wound that lay open between her ribs.

  Cornelia immediately crouched down to assess the damage as Vince burst from the tree line, panting with large beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. “He escaped a few miles in,” Vince explained.

  “He got away?” Hayden echoed, his eyes suddenly fiercely narrowed as he channeled his fear into rage.

  “Hey, you try navigating through unfamiliar territory in the dark after an enemy that has home advantage,” Vince snapped.

  “It’s okay,” Marilla breathed, flinching as Cornelia pressed a cloth to her side.

  “What can I do?” Blythe whispered to Cornelia as Hayden rounded on Vince.

  “No, it is certainly not okay!” Hayden snapped, ignoring Kayda’s comforting palm which she gently laid onto his shoulder.

  “Water,” Cornelia said to Blythe under her breath, ignoring the festivities surrounding her. Blythe immediately stripped off his camel bag and handed it to her before going to stand beside Vince.

  “Come on, man,” Blythe said. “Vince already clearly blames himself.”

  Cornelia poured some water onto the cloth and used it to scrub away some of the dried blood to get a better look at the wound.

  “He wouldn’t have gotten away had someone else committed chase,” Hayden grumbled.

  “Why didn’t you then?” Vince spat.

  “And leave Marilla alone?”

  “She wasn’t alone. We were all there!”

  “If I can’t trust you to catch a simple bandit, how can I trust you to protect her?”

  “Guys!” Cornelia interrupted, looking up at the group of high-strung warriors who all turned to look at her. “We need to get to town now, the princess needs stitches. It can’t wait until morning.”

  The furious atmosphere dissipated and the buzz of worry took its place.

  “I’m okay,” Marilla felt the need to say as Hayden lifted her into his arms again.

  “Not by my definition,” he whispered to her as he led the warriors scrambling to gather their supplies towards the closest town.

  The town itself was uneventful. Very bland though bigger than others Marilla had passed through on her journey. The homes were wooden and spread thinly over the landscape, plenty of room for livestock if anyone could afford them. Mostly there were crops however dry they appeared. There was no one in the road when they arrived, and though some peeked from the windows, no one emerged to greet them.

  Cornelia stepped around Hayden and looked at the posts aligning each home. Marilla watched her as she scanned the houses until her eyes latched onto something, a symbol carved into a fence post along a wooden hut. “There,” she nodded and led them towards the hut. She tapped respectfully yet urgently onto the door then waited, pointing to an upside-down fish carved into the rotted wood. “That symbol means sanctuary.”

  “Go away!” someone grumbled from within.

  “Or not,” Kayda snorted.

  Cornelia flashed her a glare before tapping the door again, gently this time. “We were attacked on the road. One of us needs stitches, if you have a suture kit or even some sewing equipment, I can do it myself.”

  “We aren’t allowed to help outsiders. Bandit’s law.”

  “Bandit’s law?” Kayda grumbled under her breath, her voice rising to ask, “And what of civic duty?”

  “None of that here,” the voice within seemed to snort.

  “Let us in,” Hayden commanded, losing patience. “We outnumber the Bandits in these woods.”

  There was silence before the wooden door creaked open enough for a middle-aged man to peek his head out and glare at Hayden. “I doubt that. There are more of them than trees in the forest.” A farmer, his hands rough and riddled with dirt as they slid along the wooden entrance to his hovel. His blood shot eyes drooped, bags hanging beneath with a sort of sadness resting within them. Marilla felt almost sick to her stomach looking into those orbs of depression and seeing hopelessness reflected back at her. She had seen too much of that expression from the people within her kingdom.

  “You fear them,” Cornelia accused.

  “They terrorize us, force us to pay taxes to them before the soldiers, and steal our harvest. Many have died just trying to survive, and my family and I tried to do our part to help them, but little good it did.”

  “We just need sutures for my friend’s wound,” Cornelia said gently.

  “We are forbidden to help outsiders. Last time we did, we were punished severely.”

  Marilla looked up from Hayden’s chest and asked, “What did they do?”

  The man’s eyes saddened further somehow, downcast into one of complete defeat. “They abducted some, burned others’ crops so whole families starved. My wife, brave as she was continued to help anyway, and they executed her for it.”

  Marilla gasped, placing a palm over her mouth.

  “What if we promised protection?” Hayden offered.

  “You can’t—”

  “We can,” Kayda promised, her handmade glove-weapons flexing so the bladed claws extended, drawing the farmer’s attention.

  “Let us help you,” Marilla pleaded.

  The man looked at her, how she dangled in the large man’s arms. What help could she be? She was the smallest of those shadowing his stoop. He resisted the urge to pat her on the head and tell her she was out of her league. One look from the man holding her told him he’d likely lose said hand if he dared touch her with it. The girl had powerful friends, he’d give her that. Without a word, he stepped back from his doorway and let the large warrior who had to duck to get into his house carry the injured girl into the parlor.

  “Set her there,” he grumbled, pointing to the table in the center of the musty room. He would regret this.

  Hayden set Marilla down onto the table assigned. It was a barren wooden dinner table that contained enough dust to prove dinner hadn’t been served on it for a very long time. “Thank you,” Marilla said graciously as he fetched a few supplies.

  “I used to treat the cattle when we had them,” he explained as he pulled up a chair beside her. “They often got tangled in the wire fencing until we switched to wooden. I know how to stitch.”

  Hayden resisted the urge to remind him his princess was not livestock as their host threaded a needle, lighting the end on fire to sanitize it and positioning himself to begin the sutures. He turned his eyes up at the room full of people as he reached forward to lift Marilla’s ripped dress.

  “Let’s give the lady some privacy. A woman has nothing if not her modesty.”

  Hayden’s nostrils flared as he took a breath to refuse, but Kayda gripped his hand in a clear warning. “We’ll be right outside,” she told Marilla gently, smiling as she continued, “Every warrior has gone through this; your scars prove you’re a survivor.”

  Marilla managed a grateful smile as Kayda herded Hayden from the room. Then she was alone with the farmer, sitting vulnerable on the table as he gently exposed the wound. He was careful not to expose any other part of her, being very gracious to keep the rest of her covered modestly. He angled the needle forward when her torn flesh was exposed, focused on its path, but Marilla flinched away from the point.

  “I can’t very well stitch this closed if you don’t hold still,” he grumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Could you… talk? Maybe tell me what it’s like to live here.”

  “It’s awful to live here, missus,” he said absently as he prodded her sensitive flesh with the point of the needle. She sucked in a breath, waiting for the pain and trying her best not to flinch as the needle pushed through her skin. “The Oakmire Bandits demand full obedience and if they don’t get it they pillage and rape and kill until they do.” Marilla bit back a cry as he tugged the first stitch into place.

  “And no one has done anything about it?” she managed to gasp. “What about the castle?”

  “The emperor doesn’t care about us,” he said as he angled the next stitch.

  “What about the crops and the cattle? Don’t the bandits steal them from him as well?”

  “Not enough to cause the emperor any grief. They leave enough for us to pay our taxes but nothing more. We are being stripped on both sides. The soldiers take what they demand, and the bandits steal the rest.”

  Marilla swallowed another cry, her rage building and blocking out the pain in her side. She was no longer surprised at how cruel life was for her kingdom. She was no longer shocked at how her father had done nothing to help any of his subjects, even as they died around him. “If you could do something about it, what would you do?” she asked, her voice suddenly husky with rage and pain.

  The farmer froze, his needle positioned into his third stitch as he considered. “Vengeance, madam.” He looked at her now, really looked for the first time. The girl was a looker with gentle auburn curls to frame her delicate face, creamy skin smeared with dirt, and yet her amber eyes did not match her tender features. They were doe like, round and yet suddenly very fierce and unforgiving. It seemed to change their color being so filled with revulsion, almost red tinted in the irises. “I’d burn the forest to chase them out and ambush them.”

  Marilla’s jaw worked as she considered. “What has prevented you from doing so?”

  “We don’t have the means to contain it. If it were to get out of control, we would burn our own land. I am willing to lose my home to chase those bastards from the forest, but I don’t want any of my neighbors to be forced to make that same decision.”

  Marilla nodded, looking to the front door where no doubt her companions were standing, waiting. The farmer resumed his work, surprised when the next stitch elicited no flinch or cries of pain from her. She was too focused to feel the prick of the needle or the pull of the stitch. “Kayda!” she called finally, and the door burst open. The large warrior who had carried her diligently into the hut taking up the whole doorway with his massive girth.

  Marilla’s host shrank back from him as he puffed up, ready to defend her from some unknown threat which had caused her to scream.

  Kayda slipped past him, glaring up at Hayden irritably. “She called for me!” she grumbled before turning to Marilla expectantly.

  “My father let the Oakmire Bandits get away with many misdeeds, I want to rectify that,” Marilla explained, surprising the farmer with her sudden commanding tone to the larger and stronger of his guests.

  Kayda looked from him to the princess, biting the inside of her cheek before asking, “Is that the best use of our time, Princess?”

  Princess?

  Marilla nodded and said, “We can make time to fix something that should have been fixed long ago.” She sat perfectly still, her eyes focused intently on Kayda’s who stood up straighter beneath her gaze. Only Liath’s unwavering stare had ever had that effect on her, Kayda realized. “Send the warriors into the woods, drag out as many bandits as you can find, and string them up in the town’s square.”

  “As Vince said, they have the home advantage,” Kayda pointed out.

  “Then burn their home.”

  Hayden and Kayda exchanged glances, surprised yet not. Marilla seemed to transition from lamb to lion on any whim, from tolerant to passionately savage and brutal.

  “I’ll gather the forces,” Kayda said hesitantly, turning and exiting the house with the door creaking shut behind her.

  Hayden looked from Marilla to their host then back. “Why call her instead of me?” he finally demanded after moments of hushed silence.

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t leave my side,” Marilla said, vulnerability creeping into her voice that had just moments ago been strong and commanding. “I need to do this,” she explained. “I need to fix this.”

  “It isn’t your problem to fix.”

  “Then whose is it?” Marilla challenged. “If I am to overthrow him, it will become my issue to fix.”

  Hayden’s square jaw flexed once as he considered. “This moment will dictate the type of ruler they see you as,” he said. “How do you want to proceed?”

  Marilla blinked. “I…”

  “Didn’t think that far,” Hayden finished for her.

  “W-Who are you?” the farmer asked, having sat listening through their exchange, confused and slightly frightened.

  Marilla registered his fear and dropped her voice to a soothing whisper. “I’m sorry, my name is Marilla.”

  “John,” the farmer said, clearing his throat.

  “I am sorry about your wife and the suffering this town has faced with no help from the soldiers. That ends today.”

  “This is Princess Marilla, daughter of the late emperor,” Hayden explained. “She feels responsible for what has been happening in this kingdom.”

  John’s eyes widened, and he dipped his head. “Oh no, Princess! None of this is your doing!”

 

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