Page 147 of The Crimson Walls Of Algorath

It did not take long for her to drift into a dreamless sleep—a small mercy given the many days she had spent waking from the recurring terror of her father dying.

Yet slumber did not last. It never did. When she woke, the carriage had stopped moving, and Alek’s voice grew demanding as he opened the door, letting in a breeze of cool summer night air. It smelled of damp soil and evergreens. Had it been raining?

Emillie wobbled to an upright position as he left the carriage—left her alone. She pried her sleepy eyes open, and when everything presented itself as blurry, she rubbed them with her hands. “Alek?”

He did not respond, and so she leaned out of the open door to look around. They were in a forest. The road was wide and empty aside from them and a new crowd of soldiers around them. Had they passed the Hub? Had Loren changed his mind about letting them go?

They had stopped not far from the bridge transcending the southern river fed by Lake Cypher. They had passed the Hub, then. She had slept entirely too long—they were hours from Laeton in the middle of nowhere. By the time they reached their first inn, she would be too alert to keep her eyes shut.

“Alek!” Emillie half-stood and leaned farther, her heart giving a tight throb as she remembered why she was so alone in the carriage.

Alek shouted something again, but the rushing waters drowned out the words. More male voices joined in, all speaking over one another in such dissonance that Emillie could not comprehend what they said.

She took a tentative step down from the carriage, mud squelching underfoot, and thanked the gods for her shorter traveling gown. She lifted the hem a little higher and followed the sounds of the argument. That was the moment she saw the difference between the soldiers who escorted them from the Nightingale manor and those who blocked their path. The uniforms, though the same color, were just different enough to tell them apart. The escorts were merely guards posing as soldiers.

“—my Province!” Alek snapped, the beginning of his sentence lost in the din.

“The King’s orders were clear,” shouted a soldier standing a breath from him. “You will return to your estate where we will—”

“Where you will imprison us again?” Alek pulled his lip back to bare his fangs. “I think not.”

“You were not given leave to—”

“I do not take orders from you,” Alek interrupted again. “My priority is to get my wife safely to our home. I received acknowledgment of my plans to leave Central Province and was told I would be free to return to Armington.”

The soldier shook his head. “Your documents do not match.”

“Alek?” Emillie’s hands shook at her sides. He had lied. They had not been given permission to leave. He had forged the papers to get them out of Central Province. To get her out.

Her husband turned to her, black eyes almost glowing with anger not meant for her. “Wife, please return to the carriage. I will handle this.”

Yet the officer closed the distance to Emillie and grabbed her arm. “His Majesty requires Lady Nightingale’s presence in Laeton. You both will return with me. Do so immediately, and you will not be punished for your crimes.”

Those were the last words Emillie heard before adrenaline dumped into her system, muddling her thoughts. Crimes. Loren wanted her to stay in Laeton for a reason, and Alek had known. Had tried to escape with her to the province he controlled.

Alek shot forward with a snarl, forcing the soldier to lose his grip and positioning himself between them. “Do not touch her.”

“Failure to comply will result in your death.” The officer glowered at him. “Either way, the King will provide for your wife.”

“Fuck you,” Alek spat, reaching one arm back to ensure Emillie was still there. She held his hand in reassurance.

“She comes with us,” the officer said matter-of-factly. “Final chance.”

Alek shook his head. “Blind obedience will be the death of you.”

The soldiers around them drew their swords as the officer said, “No. But disobeying your King will be.”

When Alek held his ground, the officer started forward again with a swing of his sword. Emillie jumped and gasped as Alek used a long knife from his boot to block it. She stumbled back at the same moment two of Alek’s crimson-clad guards snapped into action. Within a breath, each had killed a soldier. The Lord Governor picked up a fallen sword before turning to the fray and diving in.

Emillie could do nothing but watch in horror as the men fought. Her heart thundered, and every fiber of her being screamed for her to run. Run and never look back. But she could not leave Alek there alone. Gods, where would she even go? If Loren wanted her in Laeton, he would hunt her to the edges of Myridia, same as her sister.

A guard fell to the blade of a soldier still on his horse. In response, another guard dragged that soldier down to slit his throat. Again and again, blood rained from the deaths mounting around her. With only a handful of soldiers left, the final guard and Alek moved in a whirlwind.

He did not use tactics like Azriel or even Sul. Alek had been trained with the privileges of a Lord Governor’s son. He followed the rules of a sword fight, did not seek alternative ways to outmaneuver his opponent, and kept his back straight.

Such fighting technique kept him alive against the unseasoned soldiers, but when the officer killed the last guard and turned to Alek, Emillie’s heart sank.

“I will go!” She stepped forward. “Alek, please! Stop!”

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