Chapter 24

Izzie and Iagan were still bickering like children about the fight as Izzie threw the Prince against the wall and arched her sword through the air before lining the blade up with Asher’s throat.

Iagan stopped arguing with her. He must have saw that she wasn’t in the mood.

“No!” Drystan stepped forward and kept her from taking the final blow.

“Thank you,” The prince begged Drystan, looking at him like he was a saviour.

“Shut up,” Drystan growled at Asher, the prince, not peeling his eyes off of Izzie, “We should put him in front of the town; they need to know what he’s done.”

Isadora’s hand was twitching as her sword demanded blood and she wanted nothing more than to stick it in Asher’s throat.

“Drystan’s right,” Iagan stepped forward and Izzie sighed; she didn’t care about being right, “He’ll get his just desserts; but first he needs to clear all of our names,”

Izzie let out a deep sigh as she spared a moment to think of the others; she didn’t want them to be on the run for the rest of their lives.

“Fine,” Izzie growled as she took a few steps away, hating the smirk that fell upon the prince’s lips as she caved in, “But I will kill you,” She pointed at him with her sword, leaving him to Drystan as she turned to face Iagan.

“Iagan, I-” Izzie started when the thrumming sound of a bow releasing an arrow filled her keen senses.

Izzie had already began to turn as the arrow whistled through the air but another sound erupted from beside her.

“IZZIE!” Iagan screamed and as Izzie turned those last few inches, Iagan had jumped in front of her; the arrow piercing his leather clothes.

“Iagan,” Izzie gasped as she watched him fall to the floor, in slow motion, but as he fell he flung his axe out wide.

In those last few moments of calm before reality hit, Izzie followed the trajectory the axe had taken through the air until she found it sunk into Dawn’s stomach.

Iagan had thrown it with such strength that it had gone straight through Dawn and imbedded its blade in the wall behind her, keeping Dawn in place as blood pooled by her feet, dripping off the handle.

Izzie clocked the bow still clutched in her hand and the quiver of arrows strapped to her hip before Izzie raised her eyes and found Dawn staring straight at her.

Those eyes were filled with deep hatred as her lips parted to let out a small laugh; blood trickling out over her lips and down her chin.

In the next few seconds she died, her head falling forward and the bow clattering to the ground.

“Put pressure on it!” Jarred was screaming as everyone converged around Iagan’s body, as he lay on the floor coughing up blood and blaspheming through the pain.

Izzie was frozen to the spot; Iagan had jumped in front of the arrow for her.

She could have saved them both if he had just stayed where he was; why did he have to get involved!?

Izzie cursed herself for letting him come along; he should have stayed in the forest with the others.

But they hadn’t stayed there, Izzie thought, they had all come looking for her.

Amongst the chaos, there was a gap in the mass of bodies around Iagan and they clashed eyes.

Izzie didn’t say anything; she didn’t know what to say, but whatever her eyes were telling him he was saying the exact thing straight back.

Because there was a small smile upon his lips and Izzie smiled back because she knew why he was happy.

He had killed Dawn; he had never liked her.

“Aah!” Thomas screamed from behind her and Izzie spun around to see Thomas sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from his nose, and the Prince sprinting away, down the cobbled street towards the market.

Izzie was torn between leaving her friend and catching the prince.

Turning back, she looked at Iagan.

“Go,” He coughed as he saw her dilemma, “I’ll catch up in a minute,”

Izzie sent him a soft smile of gratitude, her eyes clocking the arrow wedged deep inside his chest cavity, before she spun around and chased after the prince.

* * *

The market town was packed with traders and sellers alike.

The small town streets were lined with carts and horses as traders tried to find a spot to set up their stall but Izzie had her eyes glued to the man that was pushing through the crowds, leaving a wake of chaos behind him.

Villagers were cursing them as Izzie pushed passed but Izzie had bigger things on her mind; she had not just been through all of that effort and watching Iagan get shot with an arrow just to lose the prince now.

She let out a filthy curse as Asher pushed himself into the main crowd, a smile upon his face when he thought he had lost her.

But Izzie wasn’t about to give up that easily.

Looking around her she saw everything she needed to capture him.

“Excuse me,” Izzie gently pushed an elderly gentleman away as she sheathed her sword and leapt up onto one of the many stalls selling spices from across the continent.

The trader was immediately shouting at her but Izzie quickly bypassed his stall and jumped onto the next. And the next. And the next.

The stalls were all lined up around the courtyard as well as making an intricate line of rows in front of the stage which staged the executions.

From her vantage point up high she could clock Asher’s movements with precise details as she jumped across a five foot gap and teetered on the edge of a wooden cart acting a stall.

Quickly finding her balance she pushed her body forward, running a little bit faster to catch up with him as she quickly found another way to block his path.

By now guards had begun to gather to capture her but she ignored them as she removed a rag of cloth from around her belt and hopped over a grabbing hand that looked to pull her to the ground.

Jumping onto the stall nearest the wall, she wrapped the cloth around the thick cord which hung low over their heads, promoting the princes new coat of arms.

Gripping the small piece of cloth on either side of the cord she kicked herself off the wall and let her body plummet towards the ground, her weight dragging the cord down.

Asher’s retreating body loomed closer until she was close enough to swing herself off the cord and crash into the prince’s back, throwing him to the ground.

Quickly unsheathing her sword, she waited for him to lift his head so she could press her sword against his Adams apple.

“Now,” Izzie asked, slightly out of breath from her acrobat session, “Where were we?”