Cassian's POV
I've never been an outlaw before.
It's surprisingly freeing.
We camp in the northern forests, twenty soldiers and one wounded woman who's too stubborn to stay lying down. Aria insists on sitting up despite Brother Thomas's protests, her shoulder bandaged but her eyes sharp.
"We can't fight the entire kingdom," Lord Darius says bluntly. "Seraphina commands five thousand castle guards plus the city militia. We have twenty men."
"Twenty-one," Aria corrects. "I can fight."
"You can barely stand," I point out.
"Then get me a chair and I'll fight sitting down." Her glare could melt steel. "I didn't survive poisoning, execution attempts, and a crossbow bolt just to hide in the woods while Seraphina destroys everything."
God, she's magnificent when she's angry.
"The lady has a point," Brother Thomas says with a slight smile. "Her mind is our greatest weapon. Let her use it."
Aria shoots him a grateful look. I notice she's been doing that more—trusting Thomas completely after he saved her life with the mold treatment. They've formed an odd alliance, the medieval scholar and the woman with impossible knowledge.
"Fine," I concede. "But you're staying behind any front lines—"
"We'll negotiate that later. Right now, we need a plan." Aria leans forward despite wincing. "Seraphina's biggest weakness is that her power is built on lies. Everyone thinks she's innocent. If we can expose her publicly—"
"With what evidence?" Darius interrupts. "The letters Your Highness stole from her estate?"
"Exactly."
"Which we obtained through illegal breaking and entering while we were fugitives. Any court will declare them inadmissible. Stolen evidence from traitors means nothing."
Aria's face falls. She hadn't thought of that.
"Then we need more than the letters," I say slowly, an idea forming. "We need witnesses. People who know what Seraphina did and will testify against her."
"She's been killing all the witnesses," Aria points out darkly.
"The ones in the castle, yes. But what about outside?" I look at my small group of soldiers. "Seraphina worked with the Kingdom of Mordanna. That means messengers, payments, meetings. Someone outside the castle knows about the conspiracy. We find them. We get their testimony. We combine it with the letters."
"Mordanna is three days' hard ride from here," Darius says. "And they're hostile territory. We'd be riding straight into enemy hands."
"Not if we're smart about it." Aria's eyes light up with that brilliant, dangerous look I'm starting to recognize. "Cassian, when you found the letters, was there anything about how Seraphina communicated with Mordanna? Meeting locations? Contact names?"
I pull out the letters again, spreading them on a makeshift table. Aria leans over them, her engineer's mind cataloging details.
"Here," she points to a signature. "Lord Viktor Thane. He's the Mordanna ambassador who arranged everything with Seraphina. And look—this letter mentions a meeting three days from now at the border town of Ashford. A final payment for 'services rendered.'"
"That's tomorrow," Thomas realizes.
"Exactly. Seraphina probably sent confirmation before everything went wrong. Viktor doesn't know she's been exposed or that we escaped. He'll be there expecting a normal meeting." Aria looks at me. "We intercept him. Capture him. Force him to testify."
"Kidnapping a foreign ambassador could start an international war," Darius protests.
"As opposed to the civil war we're already in?" I counter. "Aria's right. This is our best chance. We get Viktor to confess publicly that he paid Seraphina to commit treason. Combined with the letters, that's undeniable proof."
"And if he refuses to talk?"
"Then we make him very uncomfortable until he does," I say coldly. "This is war, Darius. We're past the point of playing nice."
Aria touches my arm. "We can't torture him. That makes us no better than Seraphina."
"I'm not suggesting torture. Just... persuasive encouragement."
"That's literally the same thing—"
"Enough." I squeeze her hand briefly—a gesture that surprises us both. "We'll handle Viktor carefully. But one way or another, we're getting that confession."
We spend the next hours planning. Who rides to Ashford. What equipment we need. How to capture an ambassador without killing him or starting a war.
Aria contributes ideas I'd never have thought of—ways to trap Viktor using his own greed against him. Psychological tactics. She thinks like no one I've ever met, combining logic and creativity in ways that are almost unnatural.
Because they are unnatural. Whatever knowledge she has—wherever she really came from—it's beyond this world.
And I'm starting to realize I don't care. She could be a witch, a demon, or a saint. All I know is she took a crossbow bolt meant for me and trusted me to come back for her.
That's worth more than any proper royal marriage ever was.
"Cassian?" Aria's voice pulls me from my thoughts. "You're staring."
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how you keep surprising me. How every time I think I understand you, you reveal something new." I meet her eyes. "Who are you really, Aria? Where does this knowledge come from?"
The camp goes quiet. Everyone wants to know the answer to this question.
Aria's face struggles with something—fear, maybe, or the weight of a secret too big to tell.
"I'm someone who got a second chance," she finally says. "Someone who died and woke up here with knowledge I shouldn't have. I don't understand it either. But I'm using it to survive. To stop people like Seraphina from hurting others the way I was hurt before."
"Before what?"
"Before I died." Her smile is sad and bitter. "In another life, I trusted the wrong people. They destroyed me. Took everything and laughed while I burned. I swore if I ever got another chance, I'd never let it happen again."
The raw pain in her voice makes something in my chest ache.
"The man who betrayed you," I say quietly. "What was his name?"
"Why?"
"So if I ever meet him, I can kill him."
She laughs—startled and genuine. "He's dead. Or doesn't exist yet. Or exists in a world I can't reach anymore. Time is complicated when you die and wake up in someone else's body."
The soldiers shift nervously. This confession sounds like madness or witchcraft or both.
But I believe her.
Because I've seen her knowledge. Her methods. The way she thinks in patterns this world doesn't recognize yet. She's not from here. Not really.
"Then I'm glad you're here now," I say. "Glad you got that second chance. Even if it meant ending up in this disaster."
"Me too," she whispers.
The moment breaks when a soldier runs into camp, breathless and panicked.
"Your Highness! Riders approaching from the south. At least fifty. They're flying Queen Seraphina's banner."
Fifty. We have twenty-one people and one wounded woman.
"How far?" I demand.
"Ten minutes. Maybe less."
Everyone grabs weapons. Prepares to fight or flee. We're outnumbered more than two to one.
"We can't outrun them," Darius says grimly. "Not with Lady Aria wounded and Brother Thomas on foot. We'd have to abandon them."
"Not happening," I snap.
"Then we fight. And probably die."
Aria struggles to stand. "There's another option. Let them capture me."
"Absolutely not—"
"Think about it, Cassian. They're here for me, not you. I'm the witch, the murderess. You're just the prince who was tricked by my evil magic." Her eyes are fierce despite her pain. "I surrender. They take me back to the castle. You and your men escape. Then you rescue me later with Viktor's testimony."
"That's the worst plan I've ever heard—"
"It's the only plan that keeps you alive to stop Seraphina!"
"I already lost you once!" The words explode out of me. "I spent two days thinking you'd die in that dungeon. I'm not losing you again!"
The camp goes dead silent. Even the approaching hoofbeats seem quiet compared to my confession.
Aria stares at me. "Cassian..."
"We fight together or we run together. But we don't separate. Not again." I grab her shoulders carefully, mindful of her wound. "You're not bait. You're not a sacrifice. You're—"
What? What is she to me? More than a responsibility. More than an ally.
"You're mine to protect," I finish roughly. "And I don't abandon what's mine."
Her eyes well with tears. "That's the most possessive, arrogant, stupidly romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Is that a yes to the fighting together part?"
"Yes, you idiot prince." She grabs my face with her good hand and kisses me.
It's brief. Desperate. Perfect.
When she pulls back, both of us are breathless.
"Touching," Darius says dryly. "But they're here."
The soldiers burst through the trees. Fifty men on horseback, weapons drawn, led by a commander I recognize—Lord Gregor, one of Seraphina's allies.
"Prince Cassian!" Gregor shouts. "Surrender the witch and yourself! Queen Seraphina offers mercy if you come peacefully!"
"Seraphina murdered my father and framed us both!" I shout back. "I have proof of her treason with Mordanna! Letters. Evidence. If you serve justice, you'll listen!"
"We serve the Queen. Now surrender or die."
The soldiers level crossbows at us. We're completely surrounded. Outmanned. Outarmed.
This is how it ends. Fighting in a forest clearing, defending a woman who shouldn't exist in this world.
I'm about to give the order to attack anyway when thunder rumbles.
Except it's not thunder.
It's hoofbeats. Hundreds of them.
Through the northern trees, an army emerges. Warriors in fur and leather with painted faces and massive war axes. The Northern Clans.
At their head rides a woman I recognize—Chieftain Mara, leader of the largest clan. She was Princess Elara's aunt. She's supposed to hate me for failing to protect her niece.
Instead, she grins like a wolf.
"Prince Cassian! We received your message! Sorry we're late!" She sees our surrounded position. "Oh. Did we interrupt something?"
I stare in shock. "What message?"
"The one you sent three days ago. Calling the Clans to war against the false queen who murdered my niece." Mara's eyes narrow at Gregor's soldiers. "These men bothering you?"
"Actually, yes—"
"Excellent. Boys!" She raises her axe. "Kill anyone flying that traitor's banner!"
The Northern warriors charge with terrifying war cries. Gregor's soldiers panic, trying to flee, but they're caught between us and the Clans.
The battle is over in minutes. Gregor himself is captured, dragged before me.
"I sent no message," I tell Mara quietly while Aria gets her wound rechecked by Thomas.
"Someone did. Detailed explanation of Seraphina's crimes. Evidence of her conspiracy with Mordanna." Mara pulls out a letter. "Signed with your seal."
I examine it. The handwriting isn't mine.
It's Aria's.
I look at her. She has the grace to look slightly guilty.
"When did you—"
"While you were sleeping two days ago. Wrote it, used your seal from your bag, sent it with one of the scouts. Figured we'd need backup eventually." She shrugs with her good shoulder. "Surprise?"
This impossible, brilliant, infuriating woman.
"You're terrifying," I tell her.
"I know. Now, about that war you declared..."
Chieftain Mara interrupts. "We ride for the capital. Three thousand Northern warriors. If Queen Seraphina wants a fight, we'll give her one she won't forget."
"Wait." Aria steps forward despite her wound. "Before we start a war, we have one chance to end this cleanly. Tomorrow, Lord Viktor Thane of Mordanna meets his contact at Ashford. We capture him, get his confession, combine it with the letters. Present everything to the remaining loyal nobles. Seraphina loses all support without bloodshed."
Mara considers. "And if it fails?"
"Then we burn her castle down," Aria says with frightening calm. "But let's try the smart way first."
The Chieftain laughs. "I like this witch. She thinks like a warrior. Fine. We do it your way. But if it fails—"
"We do it your way," Cassian finishes.
We have an army now. We have a plan. We have hope.
But as we prepare to ride for Ashford, Gregor—still captive—starts laughing.
"You're too late," he gasps. "Viktor's already been warned. Seraphina sent ravens yesterday. He knows you're coming. You're riding into a trap."
My blood freezes.
Aria goes pale. "How many soldiers will be waiting?"
"Hundreds. Mordanna's army at Ashford, ready to crush you." Gregor grins despite his broken nose. "The false queen sends her regards."
The hope in my chest dies.
We're not walking into a rescue mission.
We're walking into an ambush.