The assault happened at the back at the caravan, so no one was immediately aware of it.

Aya, in her cage in Marie-Fey's carriage, ruffled her feathers and gave a sharp shriek, making Marie-Fey jump as she looked up from her book, then glared.

"What?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes at the bird. "Are you bored? You stretched your wings this morning, you cannot fly until we rest."

Aya gave her a beaded glare in return and shrieked again, a most unpleasant sound in such a small space.

Marie-Fey set her book aside and was reaching across to the cage when someone screamed from somewhere up ahead.

Her hands stilled, then she sighed and moved to the door window, working the latch and pulling the window down. The carriage lurching to a stop literally knocked her out of her seat and she sprawled across the floor, drowned into the midst of her skirts, gaping for a moment, before shoving her skirts aside and slamming her fist against the door.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she shouted to her driver, just as Barnaby bellowed and her carriage lurched again, jarring her neck against the seat.

There was shouting now.

Men screaming and howling, animals screeching in terror.

Marie-Fey began to sit up, eyes wide as she listening to the chaos outside, right before an arrow burst through one window, shattering the glass over her, flew through the cabin, right where she would have been sitting and blew out the other side.

Attack. This wasn't some accident or maintenance issue. They were under attack!

Who the hell was attacking them?

Bandits?

It had to be.

It couldn't be an enemy of her husband; this wasn't a planned trip. Word couldn't have travelled so fast! And it wasn't the most direct route possible. Uday, the head of this party and leader of her core guard, hadn't made it so easy for anyone to track her.

But she hadn't heard anyone approaching. Would she have been able to hear?

As her mind raced, her hands scrambled for the weapons under her bench, hand closing on the bow just as the door was flung open and a man looked in.

They stared at each other for a startled moment, then the man shouted, "She's still alive!"

He spoke in the palace language and she knew him to be one of her guards on sight.

"Kill her then get the maid!" came the reply and Marie-Fey's blood ran cold.

"Are you alright, My Lady?" the man asked, reaching in for her and Marie-Fey didn't think twice. By the time it took him to take hold of her skirts, she dragged an arrow free, fit it in place, drew back and shot him in the eye.

He toppled backwards and Marie-Fey's hand flew up to find the latch to the door she was sprawled against.

Two more men appeared in the doorway, swords drawn and she freed the door and tumbled out the other side, crashing to the sand and winding herself as she rolled to her side and tried to push to her feet, the skin on her hands and legs burning at the touch of searing sand as he bow tumbled from her fingers.

She coughed out as she stumbled to her feet and a man appeared around the carriage, his sword raised.

Before she could decide whether to try and run or risk grabbing another arrow, Bashir raced past her, his blade crashing into her attacker's, forcing him back.

"Run, My Lady!" he screamed.

Someone grabbed her arm and she whirled to another of her guards.

"You need to get to one of the camels!" Reza shouted as he dragged her away, "You must run. There are too many of them."

"Who are they?" Marie-Fey shouted, staring around them. So many of her men were dead already, and she had no idea who was protecting her and who had betrayed her.

"They're guards of the palace!" Reza replied, "Forgive us, My Lady, we had no reason to suspect them. I have no idea who their loyalty lies with!"

He pushed her against one of the wagons, tucking her behind him as he peered past it to see if they would get past.

Marie-Fey stared up at him, listening to the chaos.

She had to trust her core guard – such as this man and Bashir. They were the only ones she could trust.

Her core guard was made up of five men, who always travelled with her. but her guard was always made up of more than that core five, and those men changed every journey.

Could she trust every member of the core guard though?

Could they be behind this attack as well?

"Where is Maanah?" she hissed.

"My priority is to get you somewhere safe then go back for her," Reza replied.

""

Both she and her guard turned at her name and came face to face with a man raising his sword above his head, impossibly cold gaze fixed on her.

Reza shoved Marie-Fey to the ground and slammed his sword forward in the same move, parrying the attacking blade and driving it through its wielder's ribs.

The man slumped to the ground, choking and Marie-Fey looked up as Reza kicked the stray blade away and wrestled the bow and arrows from the body's back.

Maanah was clinging to the side of one of the wagons, clutching her side where blood poured from a deep wound. Blood trickled from her mouth, her cheek bruising where she'd been struck.

"Get her! Go get her!" Marie-Fey snarled and, after hesitating, Reza ran for her, helping her to her feet before easing her up into his arms, she letting out a cry as the move jostled her wound.

He started back across towards where Marie-Fey crouched when an arrow shot through the gap and struck him in the leg, crumpling it under him as he crashed to the ground, crushing Maanah and making her sob.

A second arrow drove through Reza's temple and Maanah started screaming, trying to fight free of her prison.

Marie-Fey was already fitting an arrow into place and she ducked down to peer under the wagon, counting three pairs of feet. She glanced the other way, then shoved to a stand again.

Drawing two more arrows, she held them clutched in her fingers, then raced around the back of the wagon.

Double checking once more that she wasn't in immediate danger, she stepped out in line with the men who didn't even notice her until the first man was dead on the ground, an arrow through his neck and the second arrow was flying towards its target.

The second hit the ground, the third was drawing his bow string back and Marie-Fey's third arrow went through his eye before she ducked back and made her way back around the side of the wagon, watching as more men fell ahead and behind her. There were enough men protecting her to keep her would-be killers at bay, but it wouldn't last forever. She knew they were outnumbered.

She reached Maanah and took her wrists, hauling her out and back behind the wagon.

"Are you alright?" Maanah gasped, gripping her arms, staring up at her with eyes that were harrowed and wild with fear.

"I'm fine," Marie-Fey, shoving her down and pushing her under the wagon. "Stay down, do not draw attention, there's a good chance we're going to die."

Maanah grabbed her wrist as she made to rise, dragging her down and under the wagon with her.

"We have to get back into one of the wagons or carriages," she gasped out, "Even if we survive this madness, the sandstorm will strike soon. That will kill us all."

"Which mean these men, whoever survives, will flee soon. If we can survive that long."

"But they haven't killed you yet."

"Leaving a lady in a sandstorm is a good way to assume she's going to die," Marie-Fey concluded mildly and Maanah looked at her in despair. "I need to try and get one of the camels. If we can get on one, we can run."

"Don't go. Stay. I'll do it," Maanah hissed, struggling to her hands and knees.

Marie-Fey covered Maanah's mouth then punched her in the side and Maanah collapsed with a muffled scream.

"Yes, you're so much use to me right now," Marie-Fey replied, "Stay here and I might even let you attempt an escape with me."

The din was already fading as she eased herself out from under the wagon. She could hear people shouting for her to be found – ally or not she didn't know – but over them, like a monster, she could hear the roar of the sandstorm.

It was almost upon them.

"Marie-Fey, this is not how you are meant to die," she growled as she shoved to her feet and ran to the front of the wagon.

The camels were gone, their harnesses slashed but she'd known that just by looking out from under the wagon. She knew the ones around her were in the same state, but how she prayed at least a few were still there.

Ones that hadn't been killed in the chaos.

She didn't look at the bodies of the animals as she ran past, her hand to her mouth, forcing herself to breathe as she ran for her carriage.

"Barnaby, if you're dead, I'm going to have to kill yet another person," she hissed as she wrenched an arrow out of a body, checked the tip and moving on. "And if you've abandoned me, I'm going to have to kill you instead."

"We need to leave!" someone was shouting, "Forget them! We have to go!"

Marie-Fey rounded the front of her carriage and came face to face with a young man who was cutting Barnaby from the carriage as he roared and lashed out.

They both startled, shocked to see each other, then Marie-Fey raised her bow and something slammed into her shoulder, knocking her to the burning sand, wind blowing it into her eyes and down her airways.

She rolled, eyes blurred and spinning, and squinted up at the man who stood over her, holding up a long length of wood as he knocked her bow aside. She heard the wood crack and just knew it had been trodden on by one of the camels.

Blood was pouring from a gash in the man's forehead. The broken head of an arrow stuck out of his arm. His clothes were shredded, and he stared down at her, enraged and gasping.

"All you had to do was die," he spat, spraying blood down at her, "Your damned guard, I hope their souls burn forever in the afterlife following this! They killed my men! All my men!"

"Your men are my men first," Marie-Fey spat back, hand inching towards the arrow she dropped. His heel slammed down on her hand and she bit back a shriek, turning blazing eyes back on him. "If they turned on me, your men deserve to die a thousand deaths and mine shall walk the halls of eternal honour, you lowborn, worthless piece of vile scum!"

The man ground his boot down on her hand and she snarled at him, even as her hand sank into the sand, the ground giving way under the force and releasing some of the pressure.

"Who commissioned this act of madness?" Marie-Fey hissed.

He sneered down at her. "I'll not answer that now, M'Lady. Don't want them being the last thing in your mind as the sand suffocates you. You'll be thinking of nothing but me, my name running around and around in the pretty little head of yours."

Marie-Fey's sneer matched his as she laughed up at him. "Your name?" she said, throwing her head back and forcing out a laugh so cold and mocking she would have been impossibly proud if she hadn't known she was seconds from dying. But she still met his glare, eyes dancing with menace and mockery because she refused to let him remember her otherwise. "You silly little man, I don't even know who you are. Even in death, you're not worth my time," she said.

That seemed to be his undoing.

Blistering rage exploded behind his eyes as he raised the length of wood above his head.

Marie-Fey kept her gaze locked on his until a blur of movement got between them, arms wrapping protectively around her as Maanah fell across her, the wood slammed down on her, rending her unconscious, possibly even dead, in an instant.

Her body slumped lifeless over Marie-Fey's and the younger man dashed out from the front of the carriage, eyes wild.

"We need to go!" he screamed, pure terror in his voice. "We have no more time! We need to go! We need to go now!!"

The older man dismissed Marie-Fey at that moment and moved to join his companion.

Both camels were having none of it, they were shoving and roaring, pulling against their reins, the last of their harnesses almost pulling the carriage over with their force but the two men managed to climb on, holding the reins mercilessly tight before the last of the leather was slashed and they rode away, leaving Marie-Fey alone with the dead.

She stared for a moment, then shoved Maanah off her and scrambled for her carriage, snatching up her own bow that had been dropped and wrenching an arrow free from under her seat as she climbed into the carriage to see out the other side, the quickly shrinking figures in sight.

She drew her arrow, took aim and was suddenly reminded of the moment she and Zaydan had drawn their weapons against each other.

He had said he knew she wasn't the type to shoot someone in the back.

"Sorry Zaydan," she muttered, taking careful aim, drawing the string even further to add strength against the wind. "But the back makes such a fine target."

She released the arrow and it flew like the wind guided it, slamming through the neck of the older man, his hand flying up before he slumped and fell from his mount.

She barely paused before she had her second arrow in place, drawing it and releasing.

The second arrow didn't find its target exactly, but the wind and distance were too great now. It went through the hip of the younger man and the force knocked him from Barnaby's back.

His foot tangled in the leathers and Barnaby dragged him on, running from the sandstorm that was almost upon them, leaving Marie-Fey behind.

She let of a gasping breath but didn't let herself pause further.

There was no time to dwell.

No time to think beyond the moment.

Action.

All this moment required was action.

She spun to Aya who was silent and staring in her cage. Alive. Watching.

Marie-Fey grabbed her cage and lunged from the carriage.

Maanah's carriage was intact. The windows weren't broken.

Marie-Fey ungracefully flung Aya into the carriage then ran back to Maanah. She didn't pause to check for a pulse, she just grabbed her under the arms and hauled her along the sands, cursing her long gown as sweat poured from her skin. She shoved Maanah into the carriage then made a split decision before closing the door and racing to check for anymore survivors.

"Hello!" she shouted, her voice paling against the approaching storm. "Is anyone alive!? "

She raced past the bodies upon bodies of men, looking for any sign of life. A small lift of the chest, a twitch of a finger, a wheezing breath.

But there was nothing.

No one had survived.

Her attackers had failed in their one job, to kill her.

And her guard had succeeded in their job to save her.

And the cost had been everyone's lives.

Just what the hell could be gained by her death that it was worth all this!?

Who benefitted from her death?!

No one!

No one benefitted!

Her eyes turned to the wall of sand that towered over her.

No time left.

No time to get back to the carriage Maanah was in.

She clambered into the wagon at the back of the caravan, tying the flaps closed and pushing herself in tight against the crates that carried more of her accessories and gowns, staring at the darkness as the winds rocked the wagon and thunder reigned around her as sand pummelled the fabric.

She just stared, almost detached from the fear she knew she should feel as she sat and waited.

Out-wait the horror.

Out-wait the fear.

Out-wait the memories.

She'd done it before, all those years ago when her mother was suddenly gone from the world and people had tried to convince her father to send the children away to the guardianship of nannies, school masters and governesses, so he could remarry and focus on work.

She'd done it before when she'd known more poverty than she'd believed possible, when men thought that left her desperate for pennies and violent in the face of her rejection and pride.

She'd done it before when she'd left her home behind for a land that wanted nothing to do with her and tried to kill her.

She'd done it before, she'd do it now.

She could out-wait any monster.