The Empress' Descent

Chapter 56 - Get To Safety

Rass, that loathsome scum. I knew it, he wouldn't have let Anya live no matter how little she discovered from Clarisse's journal. He would spit lies as easily as breathing. How could I have believed—even for a split second—that he wouldn't bother dealing with Anya?

"Oh, Anya." I wrapped my arms around her. Pulling away, I held her shoulders. "Forgive me for getting you caught up in this. I never meant to. Because of me, you almost—"

"My lady." She lowered my hands and squeezed it with her own. "I've sworn my service to you. That's why I'd forever do the same thing. I owe you this life, you can have mine."

"No," I said firmly. "I will not put you in danger ever again."

"It's all right, really." Anya jerked her chin to Theon. "He saved me by not following the Grand General's orders. Theon also filled me in with the details along the way."

"Thank you," I said to the knight, ensuring that my gratitude reached him.

Theon replied with a nod.

"Why did you do it?" Elian asked, putting on an air of hostility.

"Elian, you're being rude to the person who helped us," Cynthia chided. "You can at least thank him."

Elian scoffed. "He's been spying on me all these years, he's one of Ethan's men. No, since he's Northern, he's Rassvyn's. How do we know that helping us isn't merely a facade so you can take us to him? You betrayed me once, what's stopping you from doing it twice?"

At the mention of Rass' name, I gave Cynthia a questioning look.

She pressed her lips. "We got to your window the exact moment Rass came in. We heard everything."

Of course, they would have.

"Yes, we're already aware of what you and your friends did." Elian pointed his sword at Theon, his grip around the hilt tightening further. "I should kill you so you won't tattle to Rassvyn and Ethan."

Theon's neutral expression didn't change as the tip of Elian's blade poked his throat.

"Anya," Cynthia called, gesturing inside. "Come here. We can't trust him yet."

"Y-yes." Anya followed and crossed the threshold after offering Theon a sympathetic look.

The knight sighed and clutched Elian's sword. Elian flinched, not expecting it. Blood dribbled from Theon's palm. Elian seemed at war with himself whether to let the knight bleed or yank the sword and cut his hand.

"I want to make it up to you. If there's a piece of trust left in you, I am going to rebuild it bit by bit. I'll erase your doubts completely. Perhaps not now, but soon. I'll wait," Theon said. This time, his hazel eyes were begging 'please, please, please'. "I want to help."

Elian remained stunned. When he finally recollected himself, he said, "I am not the one who gets to decide. Ask her."

He was pertaining to me. It seemed Elian didn't trust himself, either.

"Cynthia," Elian said. "Her sword."

"Oh, right." Cynthia fumbled for something in her cloak.

She brought forth a sheath, golden and ornately carved. It hung from a leather baldric. The hilt protruding from it was embedded with jewels, glinting brightly as it caught the lights.

"Isn't that—" I started.

"This is for you." Cynthia presented it as though she was offering me a present. "It's yours."

I latched the belt around my waist, relishing the familiar feeling of the hilt in my hand. I pulled out the sword and turned it over and over against the glow coming in from the hallway.