Masked Prince - Nikolai Andrew Page 0,25
moved onto whatever else they could find—tools, buckets, and finally the full bottles of cider. The first hit my shoulder, the second hit my hip, both of them causing a shooting and horrible pain. But before I could even cry out, I saw a third one, heading directly for my head.
I shut my eyes and tried to turn away, but it connected with my left ear, making me feel as though my brain had been shaken up and torn apart. My skull was full of a shrieking, disorienting pain.
Instinctively, I pressed my palm to my head; as I did, I began to lose my grip and slip off the beam. I felt myself beginning to fall. I clung to the beam with one arm, knowing that I would surely be killed if I fell and landed on the hard floor of the milking shed. As I blinked away the horrible pain in my ear, I realized that death by falling might be a much less painful death than whatever the guards had in store.
In the haze of my tear-streaked vision, I saw a shadow darken the doorway, followed by the sound of two heavy steps and a gurgle. Below me, I saw one of the guards slump to the floor with a slash that ran clean across his throat. On the ground were a pair of boots that I did not recognize, but by their sheer hugeness I knew who it had to be…
And it was. It was Randal.
He was dressed differently than he’d been when I saw him last, and now he was looking as savagely angry as I had ever seen another human being in my life.
He looked up at me without saying a single word, but from his glance, I drew enough strength to hang on. Just hang on a little longer.
“You really are one ugly motherfucker,” said one of the remaining guards. “Time to do the world a favor and get rid of your ungodly face. Not like anyone will miss you.”
Randal gave no response, but widened his stance. The two guards drew their gleaming long swords, and Randal adjusted his grip on his dagger, holding it high and parallel with his face. There was a long, tense pause. And then with his free hand, Randal signaled them with a flick of his fingers.
“Bring it on, you fuckers.”
My heart sank and my fingernails broke with the effort of hanging onto the beam. I had just watched as my father bled to death. Helpless and terrified. I couldn’t bear to lose Randal, too.
Chapter 9
Randal
The guards put up a fucking decent fight, but I had the advantage.
I’d been trained by the man who trained the man who trained them, and he kept the most important skills—how to fight dirty and fight hard—for those who might need them. They didn’t stand a goddamned chance. I was one step ahead of their every move. I sliced one across the jugular, and the second one I killed with a twisting stab to the heart.
When the third turned to face me, the way his expression dropped said everything. Sure, with his buddies against an unarmed and untrained opponent he was probably tough as old leather. But face to face against me, he was shitting his goddamned pants.
“Please!” He said, dropping his knife to the floor with a clatter. “I was just following orders!”
I shrugged. “Any last words?”
“Please, let me go. I don’t want to—”
My blade turned his voice into a bubbling sound as his eyes went wide, blood trickling from his mouth.
As he slumped to the ground, I rushed to get myself below Iris and opened my arms.
“I’ve got you,” I said to her. It was a hell of a drop, but it didn’t fucking matter. I’d have caught her if she had to fall three feet or a thousand. I would always be there to catch her. No matter fucking what.
“I won’t let you get hurt. Never again. I promise.”
She was fucking petrified, covered in shit, half-clothed, and shaking. The wound on her head looked bad, but she was still conscious. A damned good sign.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling with the shaking of her muscles. “I can’t let go.”
I looked her in the eye and took a deep breath. She followed my lead and the trembling slowed a bit. “You can. You have to,” I told her.
She was starting to lose her grip, but she was still locked in a loop of terror. “They came, I don’t know where