“Bandits! Get down!”
Steel rang against steel as Ceres threw herself to the carriage floor. The vehicle rocked violently. Wood splintering as something heavy slammed into the door. Through the window, she glimpsed her guard, Kivan wheeling his horse around, his blade already bloody.
Three days into Northaven territory, and they were under attack.
The carriage door wrenched open with a crack. A scarred face leered at her, yellowed teeth bared in a predatory grin. “There’s our prize!”
Ceres kicked hard, her boot connecting with his jaw. He staggered back, cursing, but another bandit was already reaching inside. She scrambled backward, her hands desperately searching for anything she could use as a weapon.
She was no warrior, but she wouldn’t wait as bandits attacked.
“Give us the girl and no one else needs to die!” The shout came from somewhere outside.
“Protect the princess!” That was Mira’s voice, fierce and commanding in a way Ceres rarely heard from her handmaiden.
The heavy brass lantern by the door caught her attention. She wrenched it free from its mount just as the next bandit lunged. She swung with all her strength. The metal connected with his temple in a sickening thud. Blood streamed down his face, but he didn’t fall.
His hand shot out, catching her wrist in a crushing grip. “You’ll fetch a pretty ransom, little princess.”
“Kivan!” she screamed as he dragged her toward the door.
Her guard appeared like an avenging spirit, his blade cutting down an attacker before spinning to face her assailant. Three more bandits pressed him back, their coordinated attacks forcing him to defend rather than rescue.
Ceres caught a glimpse that made her blood freeze. Two men were dragging Mira toward the tree line, her friend fighting desperately against their hold. The carriage driver lay motionless on the ground, dark blood pooling beneath him.
They were losing.
The bandit yanked harder, pulling her halfway out of the carriage. She grabbed the door frame, splinters digging into her palms as she fought to anchor herself. Her head struck the wood, stars exploding across her vision. A fist slammed into her jaw, jarring her face again as it hit the frame one more time. Blood trickled down the side of her face.
Arrows whistled through the air. Her attacker jerked, howling as a shaft sprouted from his shoulder. His grip loosened just enough for her to wrench free and slam the door on his reaching arm. This is when she recognized the sound of hooves racing towards them.
Unfamiliar figures joined the fight.
Riders in Northaven colors poured down the mountain road like divine intervention. At their head, two figures moved with lethal grace. A man with long brown hair and a woman with midnight hair, fighting in perfect synchronization.
The man reached her first, his blade flashing silver in the dying light. Her attacker fell away, clutching his sword arm. Amber eyes assessed her quickly, professionally. “Are you hurt?”
Before she could answer, the world tilted. Darkness crept in from the edges of her vision. The last thing she saw was the woman cutting down two bandits with elegant efficiency, calling out orders to secure the area.
A cool breeze caressed Ceres’ exposed skin as she assessed her situation. She heard unfamiliar voices and remained silent with her eyes closed as she listened.
“—couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Father will be furious.”
“She’s hardly to blame, Lysander.”
“I never said she was. This complicates everything.”
Ceres shifted, her hand moving to her throbbing temple. Dried blood flaked beneath her fingers. Every movement sent spikes of pain through her skull.
“She’s awake.” The woman dropped to a knee. “Notify her guard.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find two faces studying her. As her vision cleared, she began noting their features. They were clearly siblings, perhaps twins. Both with high defined cheekbones and piercing eyes, although hers were a deep blue, and his amber. Their riding clothes, deep, dark colors with silver emblems glinting from their collars, made them stand out as superiors.
“Princess Ceres? I am Princess Lysithea of Northaven. This is my brother, Prince Lysander. I’m afraid your arrival has been far more eventful than any of us wished.”
“Mira,” Ceres supplied, her voice catching. She glanced around, finding Kivan standing nearby. His arm wrapped in cloth, while he stood tall gave her a tinge of relief.
He lowered his head. “M’Lady Ceres, I am sorry I failed to protect you.” Shame dripped from his words.
“Nonsense,” Lysithea sharply corrected him. “You fought admirably against overwhelming odds. Six men against one, yet you stand where four others do not.” She gestured towards Ceres. “Your princess is safe, thanks to your efforts.”
“Our guards are tracking them now,” Lysander said, his certainty absolute. “She’ll be recovered before dawn. You have my word.”
“The bandits?” she managed, though speaking made her head spin.
“Dealt with,” Lysithea assured her. “Those who survived are being questioned. This wasn’t random, they knew who you were. What route you’d take.”
The implications chilled her more than the mountain air. Someone wanted her taken. Or killed.
“Can you ride?” Lysander extended his hand.
She swayed slightly, the throbbing in her head intensified with movement. “I believe so, your highness.” Pride prevented her from admitting weakness, the world swayed dangerously as she rose fully to her feet. His hand remained steady beneath her elbow, supporting without making her weakness obvious.
“Your carriage won’t be making the journey to the palace today,” Princess Lysithea said, gesturing to the once elegant and elaborate vehicle. “The axle damage prevents it. We sent word ahead.”
A dapple gray mare, its coat gleaming in the late afternoon sun, walked to her. One royal guard dismounted, offering the reins to Ceres with a bow. “Thistle is sure footed and gentle, your highness. She’ll see you safely to the palace.”
The gray mare stood placidly while Ceres struggled to mount. When her vision blurred and she nearly fell, strong arms caught her waist.
“Easy,” Lysander murmured. “Head wounds can be deceptive. There’s no shame in accepting help.”
“Perhaps a litter—” Lysithea began.
“No.” Ceres forced steel into her voice. “I can ride.” She exhaled slowly. “I just need a moment.”
Lysander studied her with those penetrating amber eyes. After a moment, he nodded. “Very well.” He and Lysthea exchanged an unspoken thought. “We must make haste for the palace.”