Kellen’s deep voice boomed behind her, followed by the shouting responses of several other knights, but she couldn’t make out the distant words.
Joseline tried to calm the frantic mare, but she charged deeper into the back streets of the city. Scarlet curls whipped about her face, stinging her cheeks as she clung to Starlia’s mane. It was all Joseline could do to remain in the saddle.
Daring to glance behind her, Joseline prayed she would see Kellen and the other guards, but she was greeted by dark, empty streets. The madness of the outbreak was nothing more than a faint whisper in the distance.
At last, her snowy-colored mare began to slow. Gulping down breaths, Joseline brought Starlia to a walk. The alley was too narrow to turn around, but it opened into a small space behind one of the many stone buildings ahead of her.
She tugged on the reins, urging Starlia to turn around, but her mare lurched forward, her front legs giving out as she stumbled to the ground. Joseline shrieked again, the sound barely leaving her throat as she flew through the air and slammed into the brick, landing with a motionless thud on the ground.
***
Quinn dropped into the alley from a low-hanging rooftop, his grey cloak billowing around him when he landed.
Removing his thick hood, he crouched beside the mare. She nickered hesitantly as he approached, trying to stand on the injured front leg, but calmed beneath Quinn’s gentle touch. He glanced toward the wide dip in the dirt leading back into the alley, clicking his tongue as he stroked her mane and urged her to her feet.
“Poor girl, you must have taken a nasty stumble to send your mistress flying like that.” Reaching into his wool cloak, he produced a fresh apple.
The horse’s ears perked up and she lunged for the fruit, but Quinn pulled his hand out of reach.
The horse met his eyes, almost narrowing them.
“Tell you what. If you come with me, I promise I’ll see to that leg of yours.” He tossed the apple into the air, catching it smoothly with the other hand, blue-green eyes flickering to her injured ankle. “And I’ll give you this.”
The horse nickered, taking a step toward him. As promised, he tossed her the fruit and walked over to where the princess lay.
He touched her neck with two fingers, relieved to feel the light thump of a pulse. Gently he lifted the young girl into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Dirt smeared her silk gown and freckled ivory cheeks.
She was tiny; at least a foot shorter than him, and she felt so small, so fragile for a woman of eighteen.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, commoner?” The deep voice behind him was male.
Quinn set the princess down, fighting the growl rising in his throat. “I had hoped it would take you a bit longer to find her.”
“You have no business laying your hands on Her Royal Highness. Leave, and I promise you will not be harmed.”
A half-laugh escaped his lips as he turned to face the speaker, his eyes narrowing instantly. “Sir Kellen.” Quinn folded his arms across his broad chest, keeping himself between the princess and her knight. “I’m surprised you weren’t riding at her side. Quite lousy of a protector, if you ask me.”
Kellen stepped forward, holding his long sword up toward Quinn’s throat and forcing him to step aside in the process. “Well, I’m here now. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll return the princess to the castle.” Kellen tried to push him back again.
This time, he didn’t move. “Now why is it that I don’t trust you?”
Kellen smirked, leather creaking beneath his hand as it tightened around his sword’s hilt. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
The princess shifted beside them, a small groan escaping her lips. “Kellen?”
Before she could open her eyes, Kellen knelt, thumping her against the temple with the pommel of his sword hilt.
She didn’t move again, her head falling to one side.
Quinn took a step toward the captain, eyes feral. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl. “You aren’t taking the princess to safety.”
Kellen hesitated only slightly, but Quinn caught it. He also caught the black ink marking Kellen’s inner wrist—an encircled X beneath crossed scythes: the demon king’s symbol.
His body went rigid. Aeron.
“The Princess isn’t going anywhere with you.”
Kellen grinned. “I have strict orders to ensure her safety.”
Not waiting for Kellen to stand and challenge him, his hand jabbed the pressure point along the throat—a heel simultaneously slamming into Kellen’s ribs as he struck with inhuman speed. The captain collapsed with a grunt.
“As do I, Sir. I don’t plan to abandon them for the likes of you.” Blue-green light swirled around Quinn’s fingertips as he spoke, dancing along the princess’s temple. The light shimmered softly, then faded into her flesh as the sleeping enchantment took hold of her body. He lifted the princess, cradling her to his chest once more, and motioned for the mare to follow. The animal obeyed, leaving the unconscious captain in the alley behind them.
THREE
THE DISTANT BELL chimed a third time, marking the hour. Sweat stung Quinn’s eyes. He longed to set the princess down and wipe his face but didn’t want to risk waking her. Mercifully, she had remained unconscious thanks to the sleeping enchantment.
She was tiny, but after walking for over an hour in the blinding sun with her weight against his chest, he regretted taking the less traveled route. Quinn didn’t need to glance at the limping mare behind him to know it was the smarter choice. However, the exhaustion and lack of sleep were catching up to him; the dull ache of a migraine spread across his temples.
They were so close, the rundown two-story building not even a block ahead. Quinn bit his lip, quickening his pace.
The stables were attached to the eastern side of the building, dull and ordinary to any passers-by. Quinn kicked at the olive-colored barn doors, cursing as the princess almost slipped from his arms.
“Who’s there?” a young voice cracked.
“Reive, open the damned door.”
A young boy poked his head out. “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I didn’t know it was you, Sir,” Reive mumbled without meeting his eyes.
“Find a stall for the horse. I’ll be back to look at her leg later.” He walked toward the main building. “And lock that door again before you forget.”
“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”
Inside the living room, Jenson lounged in the armchair, lean and cat-like, one leg draped over the side. Maya paced before him, every so often glancing out the window near the main door.
“I have been giving him time!” she wailed. “I just wish Fallon didn’t always ask him to do the dangerous assignments.”
Jenson met Quinn’s eyes and grinned. “I know he can be difficult, trust me. But he knows what he’s doing. Try not to concern yourself.”
Quinn kicked the door shut and Maya’s head snapped toward the sound. “Quinn! Thank the Gods.” She rushed to him, but Quinn shook his head. Maya walked to the small kitchen without another word, her expression hardening.
Jenson eyed him, taking a casual sip from the mug in his hands.