The heavy wooden door of the royal carriage closed with a dull click, shutting out the cold night air. Inside, the space was small and stuffy. Aeryn was still breathing in shallow, rapid pants, her forehead burning with a quiet, dangerous fever.
Rissa leaned her head back against the wooden wall, her hands still shaking. Her chest felt tight with a mixture of anger, old memories, and lingering disgust. Scarcely a minute had passed since she had left the boy sitting alone in the dirt. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of his regretful, broken smile.
Suddenly, the night exploded.
A loud, splintering crash rattled the carriage. The horses screamed in terror, and the carriage tilted violently to one side, throwing Rissa across the floor. Outside, the dark silence was instantly replaced by the terrifying sounds of shouting men and the sharp clashing of steel.
"Ambush!" a voice roared from the camp.
Before Rissa could even stand, the carriage door was violently ripped open. A man wearing dark armor and a black face-wrap reached inside, his hand clutching a curved sword. He spotted the pale, defenseless Queen on the bench and lunged forward with a murderous shout.
Rissa's instincts took over. She threw herself over Aeryn's body, her small hand reaching for her dagger. But she was too slow. The attacker's blade swung down toward her.
A massive shadow slammed into the open doorway.
With a wild, desperate roar, the tall boy from the fire threw himself into the carriage. He didn't have his sword drawn; there had been no time. Instead, he used his massive physical frame as a shield. He grabbed the attacker by the collar, slamming him backward out of the carriage and into the dirt.
"Get out!" he screamed over his shoulder.
Rissa dragged herself to the doorway, pulling her dagger from its sheath. The camp was a nightmare of fire and blood. Several attackers had surrounded them, their blades catching the orange light of the dying campfire.
But these were no ordinary soldiers. As they drew closer, a sickening, horrible smell filled the air the smell of rusted, rotten metal and old, dark magic. Thick black veins pulsed across the attackers' pale skin, and their weapons glowed with an oily, dark red light.
This was corrupted black magic, and it was terrifyingly lethal. The weapons didn't even need to make direct contact with a person's skin. Just the dark, pulsing energy radiating from the blades was enough to burn and tear flesh deep to the bone from inches away, leaving black, rotting wounds that immediately poisoned the blood.
One of the black-clad men lunged at Rissa as she tried to step down. Finn spun around, catching the enemy's arm, but a second attacker emerged from the shadows behind him. A long, cruel spear, dripping with dark red magic, flashed in the firelight.
"Watch out!" Rissa screamed.
She leaped forward to help, but another enemy swung a heavy blade near her shoulder. Even though the metal didn't touch her, the dark magic radiating from the blade tore through the air, ripping a burning, agonizing gash across Rissa's shoulder. A sharp, rotting pain flared through her arm, and she fell to the dirt, her dagger slipping from her numb fingers.
Finn saw her fall. In that split second of distraction, the spearman drove the dark weapon deep into his chest.
The sound of the impact was sickening. Finn went rigid, his eyes widening in shock as the black magic instantly began to burn and tear his insides. Yet, even with a deadly wound, his only thought was of her. He used his remaining strength to throw his heavy body over Rissa, shielding her from the weapons of the attackers as they closed in.
"Get back!" a roaring voice bellowed.
The old Captain swept into the fray like a storm. He was no longer just a tired sailor; he fought with the terrifying, flawless grace of a royal knight of the old realm. His massive greatsword sliced through the air, cutting down the spearman and forcing the other attackers back. But even he was struggling, his skin blistering wherever the enemy's magical weapons swung near him.
Finn collapsed onto his side in the red dirt, his chest rising and falling in weak, bubbling gasps. The black-clad attackers retreated slightly, wary of the Captain's lethal blade.
Rissa crawled over to him, her injured shoulder throbbing with a hot, dull pain. She looked down at him, and all the anger, the disgust, and the bitter memories vanished in an instant. Her heart broke. She didn't see a monster anymore. She saw the quiet, shy boy who had once blushed when she spoke to him. She saw a boy who had just given his life to save hers.
Her natural kindness and care completely overcame her hurt. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she took his massive, rough hand in her own.
"No, no, please," she sobbed, pressing her hand against the terrible wound in his chest. "Why did you do that? You idiot, why did you do that?"
Finn looked up at her, his vision already starting to fade. The firelight danced in his eyes one last time. He didn't look scared; he looked incredibly peaceful, as if a great weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders.
He squeezed her hand weakly.
"I am... sorry..." he whispered, his voice barely a breath.
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