KGWrites

Iona

Palace Kitchens, Falcon’s Nest Palace, Kingdom of Aldiron

“How much food do you think we’ll need?” Iona asked as she watched Lillian wrap a loin of salted pork and tie off the strings. Lillian laughed.

“You really don’t want me to answer that question, because we’d never have enough.” She dropped the loin into the bag she had next to the table and hopped down from the stool she had been stood on. She looked down critically at the bag, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“That should do it. We’ll be able to get more food in Blueholdt when we get there.” She said after a moment, giving a firm nod. Iona smiled and hoisted the bag onto her shoulder, turning to the door.

“Good, get this bag with the others and then we just need to be ready to move at midnight when the others get back.” She said, repeating the plan like a mantra. She knew that Lillian understood it, but repeating it was keeping Iona herself calm.

“I still don’t understand how you’re going to leave anywhere at midnight. The city’s surrounded. There’s nowhere to run to that there’s not an enemy between you and your mission.” Violet Hills said from her position leaning against the wall. Iona looked over at her, seeing concern and fear etched all over her face. She may be the daughter of Aldiron’s now highest ranking general, but Violet had always been more of a talker than a fighter. Knowing that an enemy was outside the walls that she couldn’t simply charm her way past was visibly eating at her.

Iona smiled, as reassuringly as she could, and placed her hand on Violet’s shoulder.

“I don’t know exactly where, but this palace has escapes built in, dug through the cliffs and out of the city. We’ll be using one of those.” She told her and Violet smiled, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She reached up and held Iona’s hand briefly, but her grip was tight as a vice.

“I wish you weren’t going.” She whispered and Iona sighed sadly. Violet was terrified, that much was clear. Before, when there’d been wars and battles that their fathers and friends had been called off to fight in, Iona and Violet had always had each other for company, and comfort. Now, Violet was going to have to face those fears alone, and the war wasn’t some distant battle on the Bloodfields. It was at her home.

She was about to respond, to tell Violet that she wished the same, when the sound of legion horns echoed across the city, reaching the kitchens like the distant call of a seabird.

Iona looked towards the doors to the rest of the palace, and the city beyond, confused. She’d heard those particular horns once already today.

Next to her, Violet clearly recognised the sound as well, her eyes widening.

“Second legion horns?” She breathed, her voice barely above a fearful whisper. Iona quickly turned to her guards, near the door. There were three, the plate armoured form of Reynard Junice, an older guard named Steele, and the slab of muscles that was Thalia. It was this last figure that Iona had been looking for.

“Thalia? You were a second legion officer before you joined my guard. Do you know what that signal means?” She asked. Was it too much to hope that it was a horn signalling a victory?

Thalia kept her head bowed, her dark hair falling across the pale skin of her face, hiding her eyes from view.

“Yes, your majesty. I’m afraid I do.” She said, her voice a low growl. Something tingled at the back of Iona’s neck. Something was wrong.

Quick as a strike of lightning, Thalia’s hand shot forwards. If it hadn’t been from the spray of scarlet red blood, Iona wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss at all. But Thalia’s sword passed cleanly through Steele’s chest, causing an ugly mess of pink organs to slide free of his body.

Steele looked down at them, seemingly not even understanding what he was looking at. Before he dropped to his knees and slowly slumped over, the confusion never leaving his eyes as the light faded from them.

For a second, the world was still.

Then everything happened at once.

Violet screamed. Lillian dived behind a counter and Sir Reynard Junice turned to Thalia, a question forming on his lips as he dropped his hand to his sword hilt.

Iona, meanwhile, stumbled back, her mind reeling, unable to put together the pieces of what she was seeing.

Thalia kept moving, punching upwards with the hilt of her sword and catching Junice on the jaw. He stumbled backwards with a grunt of pain, his back hitting the doorframe of the room. Thalia followed barely a second behind, stabbing forwards with her sword, but Junice’s soldier’s instincts clearly kicked in.

Reacting quickly, he grabbed out, seizing Thalia’s sword arm at the wrist and pushing her blade sideways so it scratched off the metal of his armour. Then he brought up one of his steel gauntleted hands and smacked Thalia’s face with the back of it, sending her reeling away and giving Junice the chance to draw his own sword.

Wiping blood from her face with a snarl of rage, Thalia straightened, holding her own sword out and facing off with Junice.

They stayed still for a moment, each judging the other’s moves and preparing counter moves. Junice moved first.

He charged towards Thalia, swinging his sword high towards her heart, looking to end this fight quickly.

But she’d been ready.

Thalia took a step back and hooked her foot behind a small water barrel, before kicking it forwards. It overbalanced and fell, tumbling right into the path of Junice’s charge. He didn’t have time to avoid it.

The barrel slammed into his left shin and foot, and he hissed in pain, bouncing off and falling to the ground.

Thalia moved again, swinging downwards with her sword towards Junice’s head. He barely managed to get his arm up in time for it to bite down on his gauntlet instead. However, the blow was still heavy enough to cleave through the metal and cut deep into Junice’s left wrist, causing a splash of blood and eliciting a pained cry from the guardsman.

Still though, Junice was alive, and he made use of it. He stabbed his sword forwards, stabbing through Thalia’s thigh and dropping her to one knee. Then he backpedalled, coming back to his feet and swinging his sword at Thalia again.

This time, Thalia had no plan or solution and could only scream out defiantly. A scream cut short as Junice’s sword cut deep into her collarbone and her head dropped to the side.

Wordlessly, Junice wrenched his blade free, causing Thalia’s corpse to drop to the ground.

“Your majesty, are you alright?” He asked, turning his head to Iona and sucking in deep breaths. Iona just stared at him, making him repeat himself as he came close to check she was unhurt. It was only when he was right in front of her that the haze lifted from Iona, and she was able to look up at him.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Are you?” She replied, glancing down at the blood running from Junice’s damaged gauntlet.

“I’m still able to fight. That’s what matters.” Junice replied curtly. Iona glowered at him.

“Bravado will serve you well up until you’re dead Junice. You just took one hell of a hit. Are you alright?” She repeated, speaking slowly and clearly. Junice sighed and shook his head.

“If I had to guess, the barrel broke a couple of toes, and this injury makes using my left arm all but impossible. But we don’t have the ability to treat that now, nor the time. You could still be in danger here. I can find a priest of the Physician later.”  He told Iona, shrugging off her concerns. Iona shook her head, but Junice was as stubborn as a brick wall, there was no point in continuing to argue with him.

Instead, she walked over to Thalia’s body and unstrapped the woman’s sword belt. She quickly wrapped the belt around her waist and lifted the sword, cleaning it of Junice and Steele’s blood with a kitchen rag before sheathing it at her side. Then she walked over to where Steele had fallen, his blank eyes still staring in his final moment of confusion and betrayal.

“May the Gravekeeper lead you home, and the Village greet you as family.” She whispered quietly, leaning down and closing Steele’s eyes. Her heart ached, Steele had been her guard since she’d been six years old. He had been getting close to hanging up his sword belt and taking a well-earned rest. But Thalia’s betrayal had ended the old man before he’d gotten the chance.

“We need to find out just what the hell is happening.” Iona stated, anger building in her chest as she stood back up and turned to face the others. Junice was leaning on a counter, his gauntlet removed as he wrapped a cloth around his bloody wrist. Lillian had emerged from her hiding place, her hand closed tightly around the dagger she wore on her belt. Violet was stood as far back as she could, her eyes wide as she stared at Thalia in mute horror.

At that moment, the door to the kitchen burst open and a group of five terrified palace servants rushed in. Iona and Junice both immediately turned, pointing their swords towards the sudden new arrivals and making them stop in their tracks. Seeing that they posed no immediate threat, Iona lowered her blade, instead focusing behind them. On the noises echoing down from the palace.

Screams, terrified and frantic. Whatever was happening up in the palace itself, it was horrific.

“What’s happened?” Iona demanded quickly, tightening her grip on the sword at her side. A servant at the front, a woman Iona recognised as a stable hand, stepped forwards and spoke up.

“It’s the second legion your majesty. Grand Marshall Hills came to the palace, his soldiers started gathering people up. Anyone who refused them, they just…” She trailed off as she began to sob, hiding her face in her hands.

Iona’s blood went cold. Hills and the second legion. Her father’s old friend, a nobleman that had grown up alongside her father, had betrayed them. Is he making a grab for the throne? While Draconeus waits outside?

She couldn’t wrap her head around any of it. And then she realised who else was in the room with her.

Iona spun on her heel, her sword raising again to point directly at Violet Hills, daughter of the traitor. Violet’s hands instantly rose into the air, a look of fear and deep hurt entering her eyes.

“Did you know?” Iona demanded and Violet shook her head. Her whole body was trembling.

“Know what? Iona please, it’s me.” She begged, tears beginning to brim in her eyes. She looked so afraid and hurt that Iona was pointing the sword at her. Iona’s hand shook slightly and she had to lift her other hand to hold it steady.

“Your father has turned on us, he’s rounding up our people and putting them to the sword. How can I be sure that you’re not with him? How can I know that you’re not part of this plan?” Iona asked, her voice sounded far away, shaky. If it comes to it, can I do this? Can I put my best friend to the sword?

Violet was fully crying now, her body shaking with fear as she stared, horrified. Her eyes never left the tip of Iona’s blade.

“Iona, please. I have barely seen my father in months, I don’t know anything about his plans. I swear to you, I don’t know anything about this.” Violet’s breaths were coming quickly, barely held back sobs. It only hurt worse. Iona could feel her own tears running down her cheeks to mirror Violet’s as she tightened her grip on her sword.

“I want to believe you.” She said quietly. Her whole body trembled as she looked at her best friend, someone she’d thought of as a sister, beg for her life.

“I swear it to you, on the memory of both our mothers, I have no part in whatever my father and his legion have done.” Violet said, and instantly Iona knew she was telling the truth. Invoking their mothers was sacred between the two, a topic they stayed away from normally. Her gaze fell on the sword in her hand, then back to Violet, sobbing and begging at the blade’s tip.

What am I doing?

Her grip went slack, the sword tumbling from it and clattering onto the floor. And then her arms were around Violet, and Violet’s around her as they cried into each other’s shoulders. Iona held tight to Violet, her hand running through her perfect blonde hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeated, over and over in a whisper that only Violet could hear. Violet only cried.

A moment later, Iona’s breathing returned to normal, followed by Violet’s. She held Violet by the cheeks for a second longer, green eyes staring into blue. A thousand words passed between them unspoken in a second and Iona knew that Violet, while hurt, at least understood. And that she understood that Iona would need to deal with her father if it came to it.

Then she let go of Violet and picked up her sword, sheathing it at her side as she turned back to the servants.

She wasn’t overly surprised to find that more had joined the group from earlier. Though she was happy to see that a few guards had joined them.

“Where is Grand Marshall Hills now?” She asked, looking to the woman who had spoken earlier. But it was a different person who answered.

“He looked like he was going towards the throne room. He has men looking for you, your majesty.” They told her and she nodded slowly. It made sense, if Hills had her, he had a bargaining chip, or he could wipe out the royal line if her father fell against Draconeus.

“Then let’s not disappoint him.” She strode forwards, towards the exit from the room. Just before passing through the door she turned to face the group.

“The palace is no longer safe. You can hide here but I suggest you get out of here and into the upper city districts. Soldiers, with me, we’re going to end this treachery.”

The soldiers, Junice included, saluted as one. Iona saw that Lillian and Violet also stood with them. She’d expected as much from Lillian, without Alyx and James around the girl would be best close to Iona, even if she was going into danger. But Violet was a surprise, though Iona supposed she’d likely want to find her father and get some insight into what was going on too if their roles were reversed.

Then she turned back to the door, drew her sword, and led her soldiers out into the palace.

It was even more chaotic than she’d been expecting.

Her group moved along palace corridors, seeing blood and bodies of slaughtered nobles, servants and guards littering the halls. Occasionally they caught glimpses of people running scared, weaving through the corridors away from the palace nexus in the throne room.

It wasn’t until they reached a corridor that led across a balcony above the main palace courtyard that they encountered any foes.

A large group of people were huddled together near the top of some stairs leading down to the courtyard. Surrounding them, hemming them in like bars on a cage, were eight legionnaires of Aldiron. They were of the second legion, Iona could see the legion’s number carefully etched into the plates of their armour.

As she watched, one of the noblemen in the group spotted a gap between two of the legionnaires and dashed for it. It was a desperate attempt, and one that did not pay off well.

The nearest legionnaire barely even had to move, simply lifting their shield and hitting the running man in the face with it, causing him to flip onto his back and slam down hard to the floor, stunned. Then the legionnaire stabbed downwards with their spear. A lazy move that seemed almost like the legionnaire was bored by the escape attempt. Red blood splashed. The nobleman stilled.

Rage bubbled up in Iona’s chest.

We protect them. That is our duty.

They were her father’s words, what he had told her once about what being a royal of Aldiron meant for her. What she was expected to be for her people.

She gripped her sword in both hands and with a scream of primal rage, she charged forwards, her soldiers behind her.

The legionnaire that had killed the nobleman lifted their head in surprise but had no time to react before Iona thrust her sword through their chest with enough momentum that for a second, she actually lifted them off the ground before she pulled her blade free.

As their body hit the ground, and the other seven legionnaires found themselves under attack. Iona realised she’d made a mistake.

The nearest of her guards to her drove his opponent off their feet, raising his sword in victory when suddenly his head was wrenched violently sideways as an arrow impacted his cheek in a spray of blood.

Further down the hallway, another group of legionnaires were charging towards the fighting, supported by archers.

It was a trap, Iona realised. They’re looking for me, and they knew I’d try to save people. This group was a trap for me, and I walked straight in.

The sudden ambush rushed into Iona’s fighters, and her heroic rescue suddenly became a horrific fight for survival.

Iona turned her head as she heard Junice cry out in pain as an arrow pierced behind his knee and he barely managed to bring his sword around to kill his nearest opponent as he stumbled.

We should run.

Then her eyes fell on the terrified looking people cowering before her.

They need time.

Her head quickly turned back to Violet. The woman was stood at the back of the fighting, looking truly horrified.

“Violet! Get them out of here! Now!” She yelled. Violet seemed to not entirely register what was being said to her for a second, then her eyes fell on the people, and she nodded in understanding.

“Everyone! This way!” She yelled before she turned and gave one last look to Iona, who smiled at her.

Good luck Violet.

And then Violet was gone, and the people all began to rush down the corridor in a panicked stampede.

Which brought with it a sight that made Iona’s smile drop from her face.

Lillian was desperately trying to push back against the flow of the crowd, to reach Iona. But her small frame was being pushed and carried along with the rushing people. She cried out Iona’s name, reaching out a hand towards her.

Iona dashed forwards, pushing into the crowd. They buffeted at her from all sides, threatening to drive her off her feet. But by some miracle she stayed standing and kept pushing forwards towards Lillian.

“Lillian, grab my hand!” She cried out, throwing her hand forwards to reach for the dark-haired girl. Lillian stretched out, her fingers finding Iona’s, brushing past each other as the crowd frantically pushed at them. Straining, Iona pushed forwards again, reaching out.

And this time she felt a little hand grab hold of hers and hold on.

“I’ve got you Lillian, just hold on!” Iona called out, now unable to see her through the crowd.

And then Iona was driven off her feet as a legionnaire charged into her, his shield slamming into her chest and driving the wind from her. She flew backwards, her back hitting the stone wall of the balcony’s edge, her right arm swung loosely around and hung over the edge. The shock from the impact made her grip loosen and she felt the weight of her sword disappear as it dropped from her grasp over the balcony into the courtyard.

Worse by far though, was the feeling of Lillian’s hand being wrenched from her grasp.

“Iona!” She heard the girl’s frantic screams fading as the crowd carried her out of sight.

But there was nothing she could do. The legionnaire had her pinned to the balcony wall and she was now without a weapon. She had no way to follow Lillian, no way to protect her.

If she could even protect herself.

So, as Lillian Cobalt disappeared from sight, Iona turned her attention back to her attacker.

The legionnaire must have been disarmed at some point, as all he was able to attack with appeared to be his shield. But that was enough to do some damage as he drove the heavy wood into Iona’s chest again, pushing her back against the balcony edge.

She threw her arm around in a punch that connected with the legionnaire’s face.

Which would likely have been much more effective if his helmet hadn’t protected him. As it was all Iona achieved was bruising her own knuckles.

Then her opponent swung a punch of his own.

His gauntleted fist caught Iona in the cheek and sent her world spinning. She stumbled back and felt herself twist. And then she felt suddenly weightless as the force of the punch sent her tumbling backwards over the balcony edge.

It took a second to realise what had happened. But Iona managed to tuck her head in at just the last second before she slammed down onto her side on the courtyard’s hard stone floor. The wind rushed from her body and pain exploded across her side as dust flew up around her and she cried out.

Her entire left side ached so badly that she could feel her heartbeat rushing across her body. But, as she slowly uncurled herself from the ball she’d landed in, it appeared nothing was broken.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was out of danger.

A single legionnaire of the second legion was in the courtyard, rushing towards the stairs to help his allies. Iona’s sudden arrival however, had drawn his attention and he instantly turned his attention to her. He began striding across the courtyard, readying his spear to stab at the stricken princess.

Iona looked around hurriedly, searching for – there!

Her dropped sword lay on the stones just a few feet away. It would only be a couple of steps.

Groaning loudly, her muscles screaming in agonised protest as she stretched them again, Iona lifted herself to her feet.

She managed a single, limping step before her right leg buckled and she fell to the ground again with the ringing of her chainmail. Behind her, the legionnaire chuckled. A menacing, victorious sound.

Not today.

Iona couldn’t walk, but she did manage to drag herself forwards, reaching her hand forwards towards her sword hilt.

Her fingertips brushed against it, but no matter how far she stretched, it remained stubbornly out of reach.

A heavy footfall came from behind her.

I’m out of time.

Iona rolled onto her back, glaring up at her attacker.

The legionnaire stood above her, his spear raised above his head, ready to stab down onto her heart. His face was split in a grin, no doubt imagining the glory he’d receive for killing the princess of Aldiron.

Iona spat up at him. He laughed, bringing the spear rushing down.

Iona’s hands came up, gripping the spear just behind the head, pushing back against him as he tried to drive it down.

But it was slipping through her grip, the tip edging ever closer. She could feel the pressure beginning to push against her armour, like an impossibly sharp pinprick.

And then the pressure relieved as Sir Reynard Junice brought his sword down in a slice that cut straight through the shaft of the spear and into the legionnaire’s chest.

The half spear now held in Iona’s hands was now without the legionnaire’s weight on it, so she was able to easily lift it free, spinning it in her hands and rising, all strain on her muscles hidden beneath her adrenaline. She stabbed the spearhead upwards, beneath the legionnaire’s helmet and into his throat, causing his scream of pain to fade into a strangled gurgle.

As the legionnaire sagged and fell, Junice reached down a hand and pulled Iona back to her feet fully.

“Are you alright princess?” He asked, his eyes travelling across Iona, checking for obvious injuries. She nodded shakily, sucking in a stinging breath.

“I’m alright, a little battered is all. But Lillian-.”

“I know. I saw.” Junice interrupted her, his voice grim. “She’s with the crowd, far from us. We need to worry about getting you out of here right now. Little Lady Cobalt will need to find her own way.”

It was clear he didn’t like the idea of leaving Lillian behind either. But Iona knew he was right. Finding Lillian while the palace was a warzone was asking for death to come find them.

Reluctantly, Iona nodded. Then she looked around, getting her bearings.

They were in the courtyard directly outside of the throne room’s eastern entrance. The sounds of battle echoed from the wide double doors that were slightly ajar, letting through a flickering orange light.

Hills is in the throne room. Iona remembered.

Pushing off of Junice, she bent down to pick up her sword before turning back to him.

Her royal guard looked like hell, his left gauntlet was still soaked in his own blood, and he stood lopsided, keeping his weight off of his right leg where the broken shaft of the arrow that had struck his knee was still left in him. But still he held his sword ready and nodded to her.

Returning the gesture, Iona turned back to the throne room doors and began moving towards them. With every step, her pain faded, she walked straighter and moved quicker. By the time she passed through the door, the pain from her fall was nothing but a dull, distant aching.

The inside of the throne room was a chaotic melee of small battles. Guards and a few armed nobles struggled against second legion forces. A quick look around the room told Iona that the legionnaires in here were mostly officers. Hill’s inner circle, she supposed.

And there was Martyn Hills himself, fighting two guards at the foot of the steps up to the throne of Aldiron. As Iona watched, he spun his blade in a skilful swipe that cleanly cut the throat of one of the guards he was fighting before parrying away a blow from the second. The second guard’s arm moved with the redirected blow and Hills quickly twisted his hand into a stab that brought his blade up through the armpit of the man, ending him in a shower of blood.

“Hills!” Iona bellowed, her voice managing to sound over all the fighting in the room, most of which slowed to see what the sound was. Martyn Hills’ head turned and she could make out the satisfied smile that spread on his face. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, streaking it with deep crimson and dropped into a mocking bow.

“Princess Iona. We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I regret to inform you that the northern gate has fallen open. Aldiron will soon belong to Lord Draconeus of Shetani. And so will you.” He called out, pointing his blade at her to emphasise his words. Iona’s grip tightened on her sword. Not just a misguided play for the throne, but high treason.  

She began approaching Hills, striding down the stairs from the throne room’s raised side galleries to the main floor. The fighting seemed to part to let her pass.

“All of this, just to hand over to the demon? Are you insane?” She asked as she walked. Hills laughed.

“Insane doesn’t cover half of what I’ve needed to see this through. Having scouts conveniently report an army less than half the size of what Draconeus really had. Letting half his forces cross early and hide in my castle at Hill Hall. Entrapping Caestus and telling Draconeus exactly where to find him to burn him to ash. Co-ordinating an escape and making it look like I was saving our own while ensured that all the soldiers of the Second who died were those without loyalties to me. Deliberately losing my ear to ensure a little bit of sympathy came my way. Working with Aaron Trident to ensure he sent me loyal recruits to replace those I’d lost and that we’d be in position along the north gate to open it. Waiting until your fool of a father had committed everything to the battle and left himself open before I finally got to strike. No, princess, insane barely scratches the surface.” Hills replied as he watched her approach, waving off some of his men who moved to stop her.

Iona listened to Hills’ words, realising now how well he had carefully played the past weeks, manoeuvring everything into exactly what he wanted.

And the truth was right there. She realised suddenly. Hills’ house banner is a striking cobra and Trident’s letter to Draconeus had said “The serpents await the dragon’s word.” We’d been told where to look all this time.

“And now what? Kill me and deliver my head and crown to the demon when he arrives?” She asked as she reached the centre of the throne room, stopping at the foot of the stairs to the throne, opposite Hills.

“Kill you? No. Deliver you? Absolutely. Lord Draconeus was very particular about that.” He laughed. Iona narrowed her eyes, confused. Something about the way Hills was talking made her hair stand up at the back of her neck.

“You’ve got a date with destiny with all that royal blood in your veins girl.” Hills said, before he spun his sword expertly in his hand in a complicated flourish. “But I’ll let his lordship explain all that. For now, lets see how the Fridolf pup’s training will serve you. I need three cuts to beat you, wasn’t it?”

Iona held her sword ready, keeping it between herself and Hills as she studied him. He held his sword lazily by his side, but his stance was sure and ready. Confident. She remembered a lesson she and Alyx had gone through with Marius.

There’ll come times when you come up against an opponent that is better than you. Maybe even far better. At those times, patience is key. If they know they’re better, then they’ll be confident. That’s a weakness, not a strength.

Confident people make mistakes. Stay patient, defensive. Their confidence will show they have a weakness, hold them off until you find it.

Holding Hills off would be a challenge, likely the biggest Iona had ever faced. But it was the only chance she had.

Off to her right, at the edge of her vision, she saw that the fighting in the room had stopped as everyone watched the treacherous Grand Marshall and the princess circle one another.

Suddenly, Hills darted forwards, his sword slicing down towards her leg. It was an easily countered cut and Iona quickly intercepted it with her own blade. The ring of metal on metal sounded across the throne room.

Hills twisted around Iona, making her shuffle rapidly to keep him in front of her. Then he sliced again, aiming for her ribs. She moved to parry. And played right into his hands.

At the last second, he pulled the sword back, turning the move into a feint, baiting out her defence and allowing him to readjust. He spun into a cut that Iona barely had time to duck back from. His blade nicked her ear as she moved her head to the right to avoid his attack. He stepped back, laughing.

“Is that it? This is the training the great Marius Fridolf gave our princess to defend herself?” Hills asked, throwing his arms wide and receiving a smattering of mocking laughter from the gathered legionnaires. Iona backed away, catching sight of Junice off to the side. He was being held back by two legionnaires, who were clearly keeping him alive to watch the princess lose. He looked terrified, he could clearly say the vast gulf of skill between the two fighters, and he didn’t rate Iona’s chances.

Then Hills was on her again, stabbing forwards and causing her to need to rapidly sidestep to avoid him. She swung as he passed her by, but it was a slow, clumsy attack, born more of desperation than skill. Hills easily avoided it and pushed a counterattack, swinging his sword towards her wrists.

Iona pulled backwards, parrying the blow and sending shaking impacts up her arms. Then Hills stuck again, his blade lashing out like the snake on his banner and giving a quick shallow cut that bit across Iona’s lower back and made her cry out in pain. A bolt of lightning shot up her spine as she stumbled away from Hills, hitting one of the pillars that lined the hall and leaning against it to stay on her feet.

Pain racked her body and her breath came fast, even just those few cuts had been exhausting on her already battered body. Hills, meanwhile, looked fresh and ready, like he’d just woken up.

Two cuts. A third and I lose.

She remembered her first sparring duel with Alyx, remembered the exchange of quick blows the two had shared. She’d won that day.

And not by playing by the rules.

She looked at Hills as he approached her, his sword held in a ready stance, prepared to end things with a quick thrust.

And then, when he was crossing the centre of the throne room, Iona saw a single strange yellowish-white droplet fall from above and hit the ground between her and Hills. Time slowed as she looked up and saw where it came from.

A chandelier hung above the centre of the room, a big iron ring of candles suspended by a rope. A rope that attached to a metal ring on the pillar behind Hills.

Iona smiled.

“I hope you’re happy with the choices you’ve made Hills. Because sooner or later, its all going to come crashing down on you.” She spat, pushing herself up the pillar and standing ready. Hills stopped and chuckled, seemingly ready for some other witty comeback.

Confident people make mistakes.

As soon as he began to speak, Iona kicked off the pillar behind her, leaping forwards with a cry of rage. She swung her sword low, making Hills move to parry it. As he did, Iona twisted her elbow and slammed it into his temple, causing him to spin on the spot while she kept moving past him.

Once she was clear of Hills, Iona moved to the metal ring for the chandelier and in a single quick cut, sliced through the rope holding it up.

Everything hung still for just a second. Long enough that Iona had the horrible fear she’d misjudged as Hills straightened up again.

And then the room was filled with the sound of groaning metal as the massive metal ring dropped downwards like a stone.

Lord Martyn Hills had only enough time to look upwards, see what was coming and utter a terrified scream before the metal slammed down atop him and crumpled him to the ground. The crash reverberated off the walls as wax and dust flew in all directions. And then, silence and stillness followed.

Iona had been expecting to be immediately set upon by Hills’ second legion followers, but they stayed still in shock for a second too long.

Long enough for Reynard Junice to pull himself free and snap the neck of one of the two legionnaires that had been holding him. Then he picked up his sword again and bellowed out a triumphant war cry.

The result was immediate.

The faltering defenders rallied around their princess’ victory and fell upon the legionnaires with battle cries of their own, while the stunned legionnaires struggled to shake off their stupor and respond.

Iona watched as the fighting broke out again, leaning on the pillar catching her breath and trying to ignore the burning pain radiating up her back.

Then suddenly she was fighting again as a female second legion officer came in from her right, swinging her sword for Iona’s head. She ducked at the last second and was showered in little shards of stone as the attack cleaved into the stone pillar.

She sliced out quickly and was rewarded by her sword bouncing harmlessly off of thick metal armour. Still, it was enough to make the woman snarl in rage and kick out at Iona.

The blow caught Iona in the stomach, and she tumbled backwards, crossing the open space between the pillars and the thrones quickly as she struggled to regain her balance. Her back hit the steps up to the throne and responded with an explosion of pain. She screamed out, rolling in pain for a second before her senses cut through the fires of the pain.

Get up. Now.

She struggled to stand when suddenly she was pushed painfully back down as the legionnaire placed her boot on Iona’s wrist, pinning her sword arm in place. The officer raised her sword.

Princess dies defending the foot of her own throne. At least that’s going to make a good story.

Iona wouldn’t close her eyes and wait for the end though, she was going to see this through.

Which meant she saw the moment that Alyx Cobalt severed the woman’s arm at the elbow and finished her with a quick slice across the throat.

Then Alyx turned to look down at Iona, flashing her that cocky grin that always sent butterflies flying in Iona’s stomach.

“Lying down on the job princess?”