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“A messenger told me not to come,” Quinn explained as they jogged down the passageway. “So, of course, I had to come see what all the secrecy was about.”
They were coming closer to the doors of Judgment Hall, which Joss realized she had escorted the prince to a couple days ago. There were no guards now, only empty enclaves to show the courts were empty. Her throat went dry, realizing he had been telling the truth in that room, though overshadowed by his arrogance and Lord Wolburn’s lies.
“How much did you see?” Callan was asking, keeping up with Quinn while Henrik and Joss followed behind. Despite the cut on his ankle, he barely limped, and for a second Joss forgot that he was injured.
“I heard the ‘pardon’ part, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied before hastily adding, “Your Highness.”
The prince didn’t seem to notice the small slip-up, too alert by his new surroundings. It was when he saw the curved stairwell that he came to a sudden stop. Glancing around, he realized where he was. “You’re taking me back there?” he demanded with a hiss. “Isn’t there a different way out?”
“We have to go through Mortem Hall to get to the courtyard where the horses are,” Quinn spoke up quietly, hoping to not attract the attention of the two guards he knew down at the gate.
“I don’t need a horse,” the prince rebuked. “I’ll be much faster on foot.”
“The guards will be crawling overhead. It’s best to stay down here,” Quinn replied, coming to a stop to express the seriousness. “They aren’t going to expect you to go back down to the jailhouse.”
“And why should I believe you?” the prince questioned, something in him remaining suspicious.
“Because he’s putting his life on the line for you, just like we have,” Joss spoke up, causing all eyes to fall on her. She was too upset by Aric’s deceit that she couldn’t stomach this man’s accusations, especially since he came from a family that spent generations ruining her own. “We’ll grab our horses and head out to the woods,” she instructed before Callan interrupted her.
“I didn’t agree you’d all be coming with me. I’ll move faster alone.”
“You’re not the only one on the run now, Your Highness,” she reminded him, cementing how serious the situation was.
Her tone seemed to resonate with Callan, whose expression changed into understanding as he turned to continue following Quinn, who began his march down the stairs, her words heightening a need to get out of the area as soon as possible. Upon reaching the portcullis, Quinn summoned the guards to lift it.
“Wasn’t he bound earlier, sir?” one of the guards asked, recognizing Callan as the prisoner.
“Wrong man,” Quinn replied. “There was a misunderstanding with this one. We need to clear the books.”
The guards hesitated before proceeding with lifting the portcullis, resigned in the end to listen to their leader.
As they did so, Quinn looked behind him, catching Joss’s gaze when she lifted it up to see him. “You all right?” he whispered over the scraping of metal and rock. “You basically had a near death experience out there.”
“The assassin,” she whispered, seeing Aric’s image in her mind, the crossbow held up between them. “He’s the stranger in the wagon that we took in.”
Quinn’s stare, while not friendly, held a form of compassion he only reserved for certain occasions. Leaning closer, she heard him say, “It seems saving men on the side of the road has never done your family any favors.”
“Seems not,” Joss whispered, her gaze fixed back on the gates, watching as they rose high enough for them to pass under. In a blink, she noticed the prince’s head turned towards her, eavesdropping on what she said.
Quinn led the way, and once out of earshot from the guards, he held his hand out to tell the group to not run, knowing they’d cause an uproar with the prisoners. “Last we need is all of them screaming their heads off. If they’re loud enough they can be heard upstairs,” Quinn was explaining before they reached the first set of cells.
Keeping a steady pace, the group passed, some prisoners calling out and heckling. Reaching the stairwell, they hurried up the steps, passing through the processing room where a couple men were being rowdy, still fighting despite the fact they had both been caught. The distraction was a blessing, keeping the guards occupied while the four snuck out into the yard where the horses were.
“We can hide him in the cart,” Henrik was whispering as they walked, eyeing the guards who were too busy being harassed by a drunkard.
“It’ll slow us down in town,” Joss admitted, knowing how crowded the place could get at this time of day. “I’ll go ahead with His Highness so we can get some supplies at home. We’ll meet you in the backwoods near Hodgson’s property. I’m sure Lord Wolburn will send guards there, so we’ll need to hurry.”
Trying to act normal as they approached the horses, Henrik and Joss untied them. Slipping the ax in its holder, she mounted Drakon and then extended her hand to the prince, who took it, placing his foot in her empty stirrup to hoist himself up. As he adjusted himself behind her, Joss took the stirrup over with her boot.
Henrik climbed into the driver’s seat of the wagon, signaling he was ready. Before she could respond, Quinn yelled out for the gates to be opened as he drew closer to Drakon.
“You’re staying?” Joss asked Quinn when he approached. “These guards—”
“They’ll keep their mouths shut. They know me too well.”
“Will you be okay?” she asked him, to which he smiled ruefully at her.
“It’ll take a hell of a lot more to get rid of me,” Quinn reassured her before his smile faded. Glancing at the gates and finding them now opened, the guards still preoccupied with the rowdy drunk, he looked back up at Joss. “Godspeed,” he added, looking from Joss to Callan. When Joss nodded back and Callan whispered a “Thank you,” Quinn gave a quick nod himself before slapping Drakon’s rump, helping the horse break out into a gallop.
The two riders left the courtyard at a steady gallop, which Joss found they couldn’t maintain when they came across the town’s daily life. At a trot, she maneuvered Drakon around pedestrians and carts, weaving by those standing in the way and at least one brawl that had broken out. During the brief patches of space, she pushed her horse faster, but always met with another obstacle. Every few paces, Joss looked behind, finding Henrik and the cart slowly losing distance due to the bustling crowds. That’s what she was afraid would happen, and when she saw Henrik’s arm wave at her to go on, she waved back before pressing Drakon forward.
“That was a good call,” the prince spoke up, his voice closer to her ear than she expected.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied over her shoulder.
Cutting through a couple alleyways at a full gallop to spare time, Joss finally saw the bridge she needed. Turning back onto the main street, she found the bridge directly ahead, the trees of the woods just in the distance. The crowds had thinned out here, with only a few people meandering around, enjoying the day. Pushing Drakon back into a gallop, she aimed straight for the bridge.
It was a clear shot; they were going to make it.
“We’re almost there—” she was saying right when the arrow hit.
A sharp yell pierced Joss’s ear as Callan’s body slammed into hers, knocking her forward onto Drakon’s neck. While the horse tried to stop, the sudden weight shift and momentum threw him sideways, causing both horse and riders to fall. Hitting the ground forced the air out of Joss’s lungs, and for a moment all she could do was watch as Drakon’s large form rose in front of her and bolted, riderless and out of control, carrying her ax.
Lifting herself up onto her knees, Joss scanned the area, finding that those few meandering souls had seen them, gasping and pointing but keeping their distance. Turning quickly to the prince, she found him up but crouched over, the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Standing up, Joss realized the fall had hurt her ankle. Limping over, she put his arm around her shoulder, and hobbled over with him in tow towards the side of a nearby building for cover. Finding the street deserted thanks to many of the tenants working or at the marketplace, she let him lean against the wall while she limped back to the corner, peering around to see if anyone was following.
“Pull it out,” the prince demanded.
Joss moved back from the corner, coming to stand next to him. Analyzing the wound, she shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t know what type of head it has—”
“Break it off, then!”
Begrudgingly, Joss did what he said, breaking it off as close to his shirt as she could. She wanted to analyze it further, but the turn in her gut told her it would have to wait.
“Here,” she said, retrieving her small pistol and handing it to him. “You’ll need this more than I do.”
“I can’t take your only weapon,” the prince groaned, trying to straighten up but having a hard time.
“You’re the target,” Joss justified, limping back to the corner. Peeking around, she found there were a couple previous onlookers who were talking to a hooded figure, as if explaining to him the scene that just occurred. The tall figure turned then, and Joss felt her mouth go dry upon seeing the crossbow hooked over his shoulder, Aric’s face coming into view as he turned to follow the pointing finger of the woman who was telling him where the two riders had gone.
“He’s following us!” she hissed. “You have to go!”
“Where?” Callan whispered, jogging next to her while favoring his shoulder, the cut on his ankle long forgotten.
“These houses back up against the river. Follow this street around that bend and it’ll lead you to a small walking bridge. That’ll take you back to the main road. I’ll meet you there.”
Callan looked at her hard. “I can’t leave you like this. It’s not honorable.”
“Neither are you if you die after we went through all this hassle,” Joss reasoned as her ankle began to throb. “Go. Please. I’m not the one he wants.”
Nodding in understanding, Callan moved faster. Joss did her best to keep up, but the more she tried, the more her ankle hurt. She had made it about halfway down the street, staying close to the building fronts before stopping next to a work cart to briefly rest, tears brimming her eyes. She looked up to find that Callan Ronen had vanished, moving so fast that he was already out of sight.
Breathing heavily, she looked up at the two-story buildings now towering over her. They were all intact except the one that caught fire a couple weeks ago, a burnt skeleton of a waterwheel mill that was in its early stages of being repaired. Looking down the street, she didn’t see any movement except a couple walking down the main road, not even noticing her as they moved on into the heart of town.
Continuing, Joss looked for the prince to make sure he had escaped. There was a moment of being left behind that made her chest ache until something whizzed past her, an arrow missing its mark. The suddenness caused her to fall to the side, hitting the stone face of the ruined building. Looking back, she saw Aric’s hooded form strolling down the street, the crossbow clutched in his fist.
Knowing she couldn’t make a run for it, she scrambled underneath the stripes of wood nailed across the entrance of the structure. Hobbling along, Joss found that while the stone walls and pillars had remained, the rest was destroyed, charred wooden beams creating a maze from how they had fallen. Rubble crunched under her boots as she moved through, seeing the second floor had collapsed. The stairwell to the side was nothing more than broken wood and splinters.
Maneuvering over the rubble, Joss pushed herself towards the back, the only place she could go to hide. However, she found to her dismay the back half of the building was completely gone, leaving an open vastness that overlooked the rushing river right below. The waterwheel itself had broken off, taking parts of the machinery inside with it, leaving nothing but the stone slab it was built on, which dropped off like a cliff to the water below. She moved close enough to the edge to see if there was a way to climb down or over to a neighboring building, finding a dead end instead.
The moving current of the river masked the sounds of the wood barrier being ripped off its nails in the doorway, as well as the heavy footsteps that entered the destroyed mill after her. Joss didn’t hear him follow her trail, didn’t see how hesitant he was when he caught sight of her, standing on the destroyed platform.
It was when Joss turned around that their eyes locked, both realizing they weren’t prepared for this moment.
Aric felt the sudden weight of the crossbow in his hand and the kitchen knife he stole from her. Carefully, he set the crossbow down, discarding the knife next to it. The quiver’s strap ran diagonally across his chest, resting on his good shoulder since the other one was still bruised from Henrik’s stunt. Standing up straighter, he pulled the hood off, not knowing exactly what to say.
“I guess I should have asked what kind of messages you deliver,” Joss said, making his heart beat a little more wildly against his ribs.
“I’m so sorry,” he said over the noise of the river, taking a cautious step forward. “I had to make it look like I was after you.”
Joss breathed in sharply, both relieved and confused.
He could see the questions on her face, knowing he was making things more complicated by being vague. “I was hired to kill a man for reasons that weren’t told to me, which isn’t uncommon in my profession. When I tracked him down and realized who he was, I found that I couldn’t kill him after all. I thought the men who hired me would have someone else do it, but instead they disciplined me, for lack of a better term. That’s why you found me on the side of the road.”
Joss watched as he drew closer, still hesitant of him despite his confession. “Who are the men that hired you?” she asked, while part of her was wishing she hadn’t given her pistol away.
“I don’t know. They always wear masks, which also isn’t uncommon.” Aric took another step, needing to show that he really meant no harm. He also needed her to step away from the ledge that she inched towards, the closeness making him nervous. “I was told to eliminate whoever intervenes with his death,” he continued. “So for them to go away, the Prince Royal has to die.”
“Why you?” Joss whispered, her gaze falling away from him. Aric read the words on her lips, feeling the same defeat. His body reacted for him, taking a more casual step forward.
Seeing his reaction, though, caused Joss to step back, trying to keep her distance until her foot slipped off the edge, not realizing she was so close. However, before she could stumble, Aric was already there, pulling her towards him and holding her arms to keep her steady. While she froze, she didn’t pull away, and Aric didn’t quite let go.
“Believe me, I’ve thought the same,” he replied softly, answering her question.
Joss was surprised by the response, realizing that their feelings were mutual. She searched his face, wanting to believe him, though not forgetting he had leveled a crossbow at her and shot twice. “You can’t kill him,” she said openly.
“Jocelyn,” Aric breathed out, “they know who you are, what you do. They seem to have a lot of eyes around this place. If I don’t do my job, they may try to do it for me. That’s why I made it look like you were my target too, so you wouldn’t become one to them. But I have to kill him. It’s the only way I can save both of us.”
“If you kill him before he can prove who he is, I’ll be hanged as a traitor and a murderer. So will Henrik,” she explained, trying to keep her voice steady.
Aric closed his eyes, his head bowed so she wouldn’t see his frustration. There was no winning. Except...
“Run,” he said, looking at her hard, his words tumbling out in haste. “Just run. I’ll make this right, and then I’ll find you. You and Henrik. Just keep running—”
“I can’t. Not when I know who he is.”
“He could be lying!” Aric snapped, needing her to side with him, even though he knew he was being deceptive.
“We both know he’s not,” Joss reminded him, staring at him hard. “I can’t run away from that—”
Aric knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. So he didn’t say anything as he leaned forward and silenced her with his lips. He felt her quick intake of breath before her own lips parted and she kissed him back. He felt his fingers tracing her cheek and jaw, enjoying the moment he never thought would have come. There had been so many others before, but this one... this one felt like home, the solace of finally being where he was meant to be.
Joss didn’t realize she was gripping his sleeves until after he pulled away and she was left staring at him. She was afraid of letting go, that he would leave after this, that she would never have this moment again. And when he pulled her hands free of him, holding them in his, she felt so relieved, seeing that he didn’t want to let go either.
“Run,” he repeated, looking at her endearingly. “For my sake.”
Before he could tell himself “No”, Aric shoved her backwards until she fell off the ledge. The sudden gesture caught her off guard, but by the time he let go of her hands, there was nothing she could grab onto. He watched as she fell, her body hitting the cold current that swept her under. His throat tightened as he watched, his eyes straining until he saw her emerge farther down, feeling himself breathe a little easier.
Turning away, Aric went back to retrieve the knife and crossbow. It was the only way to get her out of town, he reasoned as he put the knife back inside his boot. It was the only way to save her in case they’re watching, he defended as he slung the crossbow over his shoulder. Despite his attempts to justify his action, Aric had only taken a step forward when he grabbed the charred beam next to him, holding himself back from running to the ledge and jumping in after her. His whole body tightened, his heart thumping in his chest as he still felt her lingering on his lips. It took a moment, but eventually he pulled himself away, trudging through the wreckage of the mill, knowing that the only way out of this mess was to find the real target and eliminate it.
It had all happened too fast—the kiss, the push, and then the freezing water enveloping her.
As the current dragged her under, she spiraled before resurfacing, gasping for air. She caught sight of the walking bridge passing overhead, a brief sense that the prince would be nearby stinging her just as she bobbed under, spitting out river water as the current moved her onward. She was swept by house after house, a blur of rock walls and wooden trim as every other glimpse was obstructed by water. She tried to scream, every other one cut off by another wave.
There was a moment when Joss felt that terrifying hopelessness until someone called out her name. Trying to keep her head above water, she caught sight of a familiar horse and cart running behind the tree line of the river’s edge, a dark horse tied to the back and trying to keep up. She knew it was Henrik even before he called out her name again.
“Swim towards the shore!” he was yelling at her. The pony, however, began to lose her stamina, becoming slower than the river that was pulling Joss away.
Joss was about to yell back when she was tugged under again, her mouth filling with water. Just as quickly as she went under, another wave pushed her up, coughing and sputtering. That’s when she saw the river widen, a cove appearing in the distance. With her arms and legs burning and her ankle throbbing, Joss moved with the current while working her way over. She fought her way to the cove, and while the terror in her believed she was going to miss the shore, the instinct to survive pushed her forward until her feet scraped the river’s floor.
She didn’t quite know how she ended up on the shore, only that after a couple stumbles with the water rolling over her that she crawled onto what was left of the shoreline, gagging and coughing up water. Her arms couldn’t hold and she collapsed onto the coarse sand, rolling over onto her back and letting her lungs breathe freely against the sounds of the river.
The tears came without warning, her panting turning into sobs she tried to control but couldn’t. In the back of her mind she knew it was shock, but that didn’t mean anything to her heart that ached in her chest.
Hearing Henrik yelling for her, Joss sucked in deep breaths and pulled herself to her feet. That’s when she noticed the shoreline was guarded by a raised embankment shrouded in brush and trees, the water not rising enough yet to reach it.
“Joss!” she heard Henrik scream, desperation now in his tone.
“I’m over here!” she yelled back, sounding much weaker than his.
Her ankle was sore, and her limbs burned as she limped towards the embankment just as Henrik yelped her name and charged through the bushes before running down the embankment towards her. There was no warning when he instantly wrapped his arms around her, and the sudden embrace brought more tears as Joss clung to the only person who had come back for her.
“What happened?” he asked, still holding onto her.
“He...” Joss found she couldn’t quite explain it. She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t forget that kiss and what he said. “He let me go,” she finished, knowing that in a very twisted way Aric had tried saving her.
Henrik didn’t say anything. Whether he understood or not, it didn’t matter; he knew that all he had to do was be there, to let her know she wasn’t alone.
After the shaking died down a bit, Joss pulled back, looking up into Henrik’s concerned face. “I told the prince to go to the walking bridge. Did you see him?”
Henrik shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he confirmed gently. “I found Drakon not too far from there, but I saw no one else. Only you in the river.”
Joss grimaced, the exhaustion setting in.
“The Lazy Ox isn’t far from here,” he was saying, nodding in the direction the river was traveling. “We can fix your ankle there. At least get it stabilized.”
“What if they find us?” Joss asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Well, I doubt they’re going to ask people if they’ve seen a Prince Royal running about. And if anyone did see us, we went in the opposite direction than where we are now. The tavern will be one of the last places they’ll search,” Henrik decided, helping Joss walk towards the embankment. “Besides, Garrett’s hidden worse. He can at least do us this favor, especially after we helped him with his brother’s gout.”
“That doesn’t mean he likes us,” Joss reasoned.
“He likes us,” Henrik reassured before adding, “he just doesn’t like having us around.”
Joss was too tired to argue. Once they made their way up the embankment, Henrik helped her into the wagon stopped just off the road. Grabbing her rolled up cloak that remained next to his, he shook it out and wrapped it around her, hoping it would help keep her warm.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, Henrik flicked the reins that moved Bluebelle forward with Drakon still tied to the back. It was while listening to the wagon wheels that Joss’s eyes closed, trying to think only of the man they needed to save and not the one who had pushed her almost to her death.
