Chapter 97

MILA

I shimmied down from the tree and raced towards the sound of the screaming. Up until that point, I thought I was the only woman present. The sound of that scream had changed everything for me. It meant, at the very least, that civilians were in danger.

I knew that the village of Barlow was nearby, and Felix had been concerned about protecting its citizens. As I raced towards the sound of distress, I realized that I might be running into a war scene entirely on my own. I was either doing something really, really brave or really, really stupid.

Either way, I couldn’t stop myself.

I ran through the trees until I reached a break on what must have been the other side of the forest. What I saw there sent a chill down my spine.

Barlow was burning.

The village was small, mostly idyllic cottages with thatched roofs and some larger farm properties, all tucked neatly together in perfectly organized rows. It could not have been very big, only a population of a few hundred people, but it was well maintained and clearly wealthy. It looked like a scene from another time–a simpler time.

But none of that mattered when the buildings were on fire. Grey, ferocious smoke billowed into the air, darkening the sky. Clearly, a rogue dragon had done some damage here.

To my right, horses strained against the boundaries of a fenced-in area for them to roam free in. They whinnied desperately at the smell of smoke. I raced over to the paddock and opened the gate, having enough sense to press myself against the fence as they stampeded out.

That screaming persisted. I turned towards the village, the main source of fire, and took one last deep inhale of fairly clean air. I had to get to whoever was in trouble, and try to keep myself out of injury as much as possible. I could only pray that one of the aerial members of Felix’s army would see the scene and come to our rescue soon.

I tucked my nose and mouth into my shirt, hoping for at least a little defense against the smoke, and headed into the village.

I did not make it far until I heard a clank of armor and ducked into a dark doorway. Two soldiers passed me, laughing and passing a handle of vodka between the two of them. My stomach twisted. They wore the black armor of Charles’ army, and there were blood smears on their arms, as if someone had reached for their mercy while dying.

Bile rose in the back of my throat, but I shoved it back down. This was a war zone, indeed. And it looked like only one side was armed.

I slipped out of the doorway and moved closer to what must have been the town square. At least, what was left of it.

The scene outside was something out of a horror movie. Charles’ soldiers ran rampant in the streets, breaking windows, looting people’s homes, and cutting anyone who dared to protest down with their bloodstained swords. Women and children were crying and screaming over the bodies of their brothers, sons, and fathers.

These were my people now. I was the Princess of Fresonia, and it was my sacred duty to help them.

I removed the hunting knife from my belt and headed into the fray.

I had never considered myself to be a fighter, but standing there in the midst of such destruction, it was as if my body was possessed by a warrior spirit. I charged at one of the black-armored soldiers and drove the knife into his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and sink to the ground.

I had no intention of killing anyone, but it certainly felt nice to strike the enemy down. I swung my knife at an approaching soldier, easily slicing a wound across his exposed arm.

The people of Barlow looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and awe. I had to get them out of here, move them to a safer place. But where?

I wracked my brain, trying to remember my geography. Then it hit me.

I ducked into an empty house and pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed a familiar number.

“Mila?” King Ivan’s voice filled the other end of the line. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

I swallowed. “I’m in Barlow.”

Silence. Then, “Mila, do not get yourself killed. Do you hear me? Do not get yourself killed.”

“I need your help,” I said. “How soon can you get drivers to Barlow? The people here need to be evacuated. Charles’ army is ransacking the city.”

Ivan hesitated. “It will take a few hours from Fresia, at least.”

I shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me. “Not Fresia. Carnea.”

The King paused for a moment, clearly debating the ethics of bringing hundreds of refugees into the peaceful seaside town, and he said, “I can do you one better. I’ll send boats from Carnea up the river to Barlow and remove the citizens from there. It’ll be much faster.”

I exhaled, tears filling my eyes, either from the fire or relief. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“And Mila?” Ivan’s voice grew stern. “You need to be on one of those boats. If something happens to you, it will take Felix out as well.”

“I know,” I said. “I don’t have a death wish, and I certainly don’t want to cause Felix any harm.”

“Good luck.” Ivan said. “I’ll go call the royal navy.”

I nodded and sprinted back outside. A woman grabbed my arm as I passed, her wild eyes frantic with grief.

“Are you Princess Mila?” she asked. “I recognize you from the television.”

Her Fresonian accent was thick, but I was getting better and better at the language and its nuances every day. I grabbed both her shoulders and forced her to look at me.

“Evacuate as many people as you can to the river,” I said, my voice at a quiet intensity. “The King is sending boats to get you out of here. Get to the river and start moving downstream.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “The King is sending aid?”

“Of course he is,” I said. “And Prince Felix is currently fighting the invaders on the other side of the forest.”

The woman began to weep. “Our salvation is here!”

I pushed her towards the river. “Go! Now! Take as many people as you can with you!”

She nodded and ran off. I headed back into the chaos.

The screaming had intensified. To their credit, the people of Barlow were fighting back to the best of their ability, using frying pans and steel pipes as weapons, and Charles’ men had not yet seemed to realize that the scrappy girl with the knife was actually the wife of their sworn enemy.

I told as many civilians as I could about the evacuation, and secretly thrilled at the number of people now racing towards the river. The smoke was thickening, but people were getting out.

That’s when I heard another scream from behind me.

A young woman, about my age, was being pinned against the wall of a building by one of Charles’ soldiers. The bodice of her dress had been ripped, revealing one breast, and she was kicking and screaming as the man’s hands roamed over her body. He started hiking the skirt of her dress up with one hand, and she started wailing.

I did not even think.

I ran towards the soldier, knife extended in front of me. I sank the blade into his side, diverting his attention enough for the woman to escape. He knocked me to the ground, and I landed hard on my arm, searing pain shooting its way through my hand.

The soldier easily removed the blade and kicked me in the stomach, forcing me to double over. I tried to scramble to my feet, but he pinned me to the ground.

His breath was hot on my face, his teeth brown and rotten in his mouth.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he hissed, and reached for the waistband of my pants.

I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with his hand.

I had no fight left, no bright ideas remaining. The only thing left for me to do was stop fighting and accept my fate.

I closed my eyes and braced for impact.