Crossed Hearts | h.s

Forty

This chapter contains scenes of gore. If you prefer not to read it, I will provide a recap of pivotal events from this chapter at the end.

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Geneva dismounted her horse and handed the reins off to the groom, who guided the horse away to be tied back to the post. She placed her hands on her hips as she looked around. The camp was eerily silent. She and the groom were the only people atop the hill, the rest were below, awaiting their fate.

As she turned to glance at the bottom of the valley once more, she spotted Matthias riding up to her. She furrowed her brows. "What are you doing?"

"Someone has to stay up here with you," he said flatly, staring down at her from his horse.

"But—"

"Sorry, majesty. If your lover fights, I stay with you. Caris would never forgive me if something happened to you, and neither would I." He then turned his horse and trotted toward the groom, leaving her alone.

She sighed with annoyance and looked back down to the valley. Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a group of men advancing toward her army. Dressed in red attire, Geneva didn't see a single speck of armor on any of their backs. This gave her hope.

She quickly did the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer to the Lord. When she opened her eyes, arrows were soaring through the air. She expected to see blood, but the only indication that an enemy was injured was seeing them fall to the ground, as the blood blended in with their uniforms.

The surprise attack from the ditch caused the foreign men to charge, spears and swords extended in their arms. The Veloran men reacted similarly, pointing their swords outward and beginning to run. Geneva's eyes frantically searched for the men on horseback, who were on the sides of the scene. She tried to find Harry, but it was too chaotic, and a hand on her upper arm pulled her away too soon.

"Come, your grace," Matthias said, turning her away from the battle and ushering her into a tent.

The tent that she was pushed inside of wasn't the one that was meant for her, it was the one for the highly ranked military men, such as Matthias and Harry and the others that accompanied them. She gave him a confused glare. "What are you doing? This isn't my tent," she said, stepping back from him.

"If anyone comes up here, they'll search the other one first. It's obvious that it's fit for royalty," he said.

She hated that he was right. Turning around, she headed for a cot on the opposite side of the tent and sat down. After a few moments of silence and listening to the distant screams of soldiers, she looked up at Matthias, who was seated across the tent, whittling away at a stick. "Did you see Zabrina?" she asked. He glanced up at the sound of her voice. "Is she down there?"

He shrugged. "I didn't see her," he mumbled and returned to whittling the stick.

Geneva pressed her lips together, lost in thought. A few more moments passed before she spoke again. "Is it wrong what I've done? Sending those poor men to their graves?"

The stick in his hands broke in half from how much he had thinned it out. Tossing the pieces to the ground, he placed the knife on the table next to him and looked Geneva in the eyes; they were wide, like a child's, and despondent. He sighed. "It's what they signed up for. You said it yourself, they're doing their duty." She nodded loosely. "I understand you're empathetic, but there is a line you must draw as a ruler of a kingdom. Sometimes, lives must be lost for the greater good."

Geneva opened her mouth to speak, but Matthias's eyes snapped over to the opening of the tent and he raised his hand to stop her from speaking. By the way Matthias tensed up, she knew something was wrong. She watched, frozen in fear, as he swiped the knife from the table and slowly stood to his feet. He crept over to Geneva, his steps light and steady in order to not make any noise, and handed her the knife.