The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 42

Two men down. Two men of...a dozen? I could barely count, for the mud splattering my face and the rain running rivulets down my skin. Two men they'd felled with arrows, whose horses had disappeared into the forest around us.

An arrow pinged off Callum's chainmail, tearing through his cloak then clattering to the churning mud below his horse's hooves. The riders behind were gaining, and there were more of them now. I wanted to hold out hope that it was Frederico's guards, but after my utter idiocy in sauntering into the inn without a moment's hesitation, I wasn't so sure. Callum had ordered his men to the fort, but perhaps Dulciana had laid a trap for him as well – a trap to ensure the exiled leader of the best trackers in all the world led her straight to her quarry, before he was silenced forever.

Callum roared and arched back in his saddle, a hand pressed to his now-bleeding throat. Shoved backward by his movement, I slid along the horse's rain-slicked flanks. I balanced precipitously – one jerk to the left, and I'd slide right off and risk being trampled. Trampled, and potentially delivered straight into the hands of salvation...or Dulciana's men.

I wrenched my neck to the side, squinting against the rain for a better view of our pursuers. Already, Callum was uttering a curse in Gallic. His hand groped along my back as he reached for the ropes binding me. Behind us, the hood of one of the riders fell away.

Dark hair billowed free from a braid. Salvation, then.

I threw the entirety of my weight to the left, heedless of the pain that exploded in my ribs. The world spun into a whirlwind of mud and pounding hooves that rose up to meet me. I tucked my legs in as best I could, trying to avoid being trampled by the men behind us.

"Seize him!" Callum bellowed, but his voice was far away.

A voice I could recognize anywhere – and would, for the rest of my life – screamed, "Don't let them get to the fort!"

Mud sprayed my face. The ground around me shook with hoofbeats, then a solid thump. Suddenly, the ropes burned against my wrists again, then fell away. Hands slid beneath my shoulders, hauling me upright, before they vanished. Beatriz screamed in pain.

I dashed the mud and rain from my eyes and the world went red with my rage. Beatriz was doubled over, clutching her arm. Her sword lay in the mud, next to an arrow. Swords clanged as three of Frederico's guards engaged three of Callum's riders. But three more of the Pretanians had reached for their bows and axes, circling us.

I seized Beatriz' sword and shoved it into her good hand as I dragged her to the cover of her horse.

"Do you have a bow, darling?" I asked, tracking the man who was loading another arrow into his bow, his eyes trained on her.

"Take it." She yanked it free with a wince and thrust it into my hands. I seized an arrow from the quiver at her back as Callum's men circled closer.

I picked off the archer first, sending his arrow sailing wide. But his arrow grazed Beatriz' horse, spooking it and ruining our cover. Beatriz lunged for the reins, but the horse threw its head, dancing away from us. Exposed on all sides now, she positioned herself at my back as I reached for another arrow. Without warning, right as I was drawing for my next shot, she slammed her back into mine and shoved us both out of the way as she blocked the downward axe-stroke from one of the charging riders. Beyond us, one of Frederico's guards fell with a cry and lay still in the mud.

"We need to mount up," I shouted over my shoulder, over the din of swordplay and battle cries.

"Just finish them," Beatriz managed. I didn't like the sound of the grimace in her voice. I glanced over my shoulder when she braced her back against mine again. Another of Callum's riders was upon us. She lifted her sword, but it quivered. She was injured and gritting her teeth against it.