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CHAPTER SEVEN: "traitor."
MERCY NEVER IMAGINED PUNCHING A LANTSOV could feel so good. Under the weight of her swing, the Prince of Ravka's sharp jaw spun and he stumbled, right into the obedient hands of his soldiers, who fought amongst themselves to be the one to pull him to his royal feet. Then their guns were drawn, barrels trained on her heart, her skull and her stomach. Mercy didn't haver the heart to tell them their bullets were useless, that they might as well have brandished cutlery because when she made them regret ever lifting a finger in her direction, that's they would learn to fear her.
"Go on." She taunted, arms stretched wide. "Or do you need your Prince to hold your hand?"
Their fingers lingered on the mechanisms of their guns, tense and waiting orders before they opened fire. For one moment, Mercy thought they would shoot her. She wanted them to shoot her.
But is this really what the First Army had become? Trembling at the prospects of shooting one unarmedgirl. If this was the state of the Lantsov forces, the war with the Darkling was already lost. She stared them down and just when Mercy thought they'd finally found the courage to send a bullet at her skull, their aim was sent askew.
Alina and Aarav had thrown themselves into the firing line.
"Don't!" The Sun Summoner cried, her words laced with an authority that made the battle hardened men hesitate. Despite her current predicament, Mercy couldn't help but be proud.
Aarav took a more hands-on approach, his strong golden fingers gripping the barrel of the closest rifle and throwing it up into the air just as a shot rang through the clearing. "Stop!" He called, bringing both the soldiers and the crew to a hushed silence.
"She assaulted the Prince." The General declared and it took Mercy every degree of willpower in her bones to not turn to Sturmhond. To not turn to Nikolai. Some sick part of her longed to see if her knuckles had bled that royal purple hue into his skin, or if he looked like he felt even the slightest degree of betrayal that was coursing through her veins in that moment.
She wondered if she should have felt remorse for punching him. After all, Mercy had been on the receiving end of enough strong swings to know that the mark of her rage was going to colour his pretty face for a week at least. But then again, it was far less than he deserved.
"And?" Alina planted herself firmly in front of the pirate, lifting herself onto the balls of her feet to match Mercy's stature. "Are you really going to kill the Sun Summoner because the Prince has a bruise?"
The silence followed was so thick it was almost suffocating as the soldiers weighed their options: put a bullet in Mercy's head and risk murdering a Saint in the crossfire. That idea wasn't her favourite, Mercy had to admit. Or, they could spare her life and let the Prince walk off his damaged ego. The general lowered his gun and the rest followed suit. Good, at least all that gunfire hadn't eradicated their logical facilities entirely.
