Midnight Moon (The Bleeding Crown Book 1)

Chapter 21 - Old Enemies, New Allies

Veanna had half a mind to follow Neyerith, aware he was keeping her safe, but unwilling to be useless again. Before she could move, Tia materialised beside her, sword at the ready and gaze hard.

The Outlander put her free hand on Veanna's shoulder, whether as restraint or reassurance she didn't know. "If I tell you to run, do so," she said, scanning their surroundings. "Do not hesitate and do not come looking for us. Understood?"

"Yes," Veanna responded quietly, swallowing the lump of the lie in her throat. Her eyes were fixed on Neyerith as he met the fresh threat.

She heard the howl of pain as Neyerith snapped a strike into his opponent's face with his dagger hilt. They stumbled backwards, arms flailing weakly. He easily stepped in, delivering a punch to their stomach then sweeping their legs. They collapsed to the ground, clutching their injuries as they sprawled in the mud.

Neyerith stood over them, daggers at the ready. He made no move to force a victory from the one-sided fight, but remained in a defensive stance, waiting for some trick or surge of spirit. If none came, what would happen to this new loose end? They had seen her, pursued her, possibly hunted her.

Yet even if they put up a fight, even if they meant harm to her and her friends, was she ready to watch someone else die for her sake today? People died in her family's name every moment - soldiers fell beneath her crest, bandits were slaughtered in the service of order, trespassing fighters from enemy kingdoms bled for their own royals. Whatever banner this stranger came under, could she live with herself for leaving them to die alone and defenceless?

The yelp that came from the figure as Neyerith hauled them up by the scruff of their clothes spurred Veanna into action. She took a step forward, but Tia's hand was on her arm, holding her in place. She was undeterred, not even by the concern in her guardian's eyes.

"If they're going to die for my sake, I have a right to know why they're here," she hissed.

Hesitation flickered through Tia's eyes, but she released Veanna. She broke for the track, past the pyres and the burning opponents they had already executed, Tia in her shadow.

"Please!" the stranger squealed. "Don't kill me!" The voice sounded male, constricted by fear and duress.

She sped her pace, holding out a hand. "Don't hurt him," she called, praying for Neyerith to stay his blade.

He acquiesced wordlessly, forcing the stranger onto their knees and shifting onto one knee behind them. He locked their arms together and positioned them to face Veanna as she approached, then looked up expectantly as if waiting for another order.

That expression almost stopped her in her tracks - it was one she had seen on nobles and commoners alike, on servants and soldiers and other subjects. It was normally directed towards her father, though she had started to earn it more often as she stepped into her duties. Yet she would never have imagined that the once-Lord Neyerith Sae would be prepared to do her bidding from bended knee.

Veanna blinked the thoughts away and looked at the restrained figure. This time her steps did falter, and she came to a stop a few metres from the pair. She expected to see a man in Neyerith's grasp, but he was little more than a boy, at least a few years younger than Veanna herself. His dark hair hung in waves to his shoulders, and his terracotta skin was steadily turning ashen.

Tia swung her sword to stop a hair's breadth from the stranger's neck. "You are from the Order," she growled, eyeing his robes. The familiar red fabric was discernible under the mud, edged with black and inscrutable symbols. Her words weren't a question, and the boy - who whimpered as soon as her blade shot out - quailed, looking like he might faint.