The night air was cool and heavy, the scent of rain lingering in the wind. I stood by the open window in my chambers, rubbing at my sore arms. Kyren had made sure to push me to my limits today, and I was still fuming over his insufferable smirks.
A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts.
Tyla peeked in, her face lined with concern. "My lady, there's news from the city. Trouble is brewing."
I straightened. "What kind of trouble?"
She hesitated. "A group of mercenaries arrived at the western gate earlier tonight. Rumors say they're not here for trade."
A chill ran down my spine. Mercenaries didn't just wander into Etril for no reason.
"Did Kyren hear about this?" I asked.
"Yes. He left for the barracks a while ago."
I exhaled sharply. Of course, he did. The man had a sixth sense for trouble—probably because he was usually the cause of it.
Grabbing my cloak, I turned to Tyla. "I need to see what's happening."
Her eyes widened. "You can't just—"
"I can and I will."
Without waiting for an argument, I slipped out into the corridor.
---
The streets were alive with unease. I kept to the shadows as I made my way toward the western district, my cloak pulled tightly around me. The city felt different tonight. Guards patrolled in pairs, whispering among themselves, while commoners peeked nervously from behind their doors.
I turned a corner—and nearly ran straight into Kyren.
He caught me before I could stumble, his hands firm on my arms. "Of course, you're here," he muttered, looking me over. "Tell me, do you ever listen to orders?"
I jerked free, scowling. "Not when they're ridiculous."
Kyren exhaled sharply, his golden eyes scanning the streets. "This isn't your concern, Vidalia. Go back to the castle."
"No."
His jaw ticked. "Vidalia—"
A piercing scream cut through the night.
We both turned just as a group of figures in dark cloaks lunged from the shadows, weapons gleaming under the moonlight.
Assassins.
I barely had time to react before Kyren was already moving, his sword clashing against steel as he blocked the first strike. The force of the impact sent sparks flying, and the air filled with the sharp ring of metal against metal.
A second assassin lunged—straight for me.
Instinct kicked in. I ducked low, grabbing a discarded wooden beam from a nearby cart. As the attacker swung, I brought it up hard, catching him across the ribs. He stumbled, cursing.
"Vidalia, stay back!" Kyren snapped, kicking another assassin square in the chest.
I ignored him, my blood burning with adrenaline. Another attacker rushed me, and this time, I was ready. I sidestepped, letting his own momentum carry him past me before slamming my elbow into his back. He crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt.
"Not bad," Kyren muttered, cutting down another opponent. "But don't get cocky."
I turned just in time to see a fourth assassin charge him from behind.
"Kyren, behind you!"
Without thinking, I grabbed a dagger from one of the fallen men and threw it.
The blade whistled through the air before sinking into the attacker's leg. He howled, dropping his weapon as he fell to one knee.
Kyren blinked, then turned to me, expression unreadable. "You just threw a dagger."
I wiped the sweat from my brow. "You're welcome."
He smirked. "I didn't say thank you."
Before I could respond, the last assassin whistled sharply, signaling a retreat. The remaining attackers scattered into the darkness, leaving behind their fallen.
For a moment, the only sound was our heavy breathing.
Kyren turned to me, his expression serious. "We need to find out who sent them."
I nodded, my pulse still racing. This wasn't just a random attack. Someone wanted Kyren—or maybe even both of us—dead.
And I intended to find out who.