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“You’re going to be alright, you can heal this,” Dagmara said, brushing a silver lock of hair off his forehead.
Aleksy choked, blood sputtering from his lips.
A sob burst from Dagmara’s throat. “Please, Aleksy, please don’t leave me.”
The prince met Dagmara’s gaze one more time. “Save…Magda.”
His body fell limp.
“No!” The scream erupted from deep within, tearing through her throat. Looking up, she desperately searched for who had thrown the knife.
That’s when she saw the figure in the stairwell doorway. He was broad, wearing the same attire as the other two, holding another throwing knife in his hand. The white mask covered his face, but the dread seeping through Dagmara’s body made her realize that his eyes were directly on her.
He inclined his head slightly, and a chill ran down her spine, casting her whole body in an imaginary state of ice. Suddenly the room felt colder, and the air harder to breathe. The assassin looked at her, and it was almost as if time was frozen.
Then he turned on his heel and disappeared down the stairwell.
She remembered Aleksy’s last words.
Save Magda.
Three assailants. Three targets.
Setting Aleksy on the ground, she rose to her feet, peering over the wall to the ground below. The crowd was massive, and a stampede was still trying to make its way to the exit. She scanned the area around the fountain, her heart plummeting in her chest upon spotting the limp body of the king.
But on the side of the room she saw movement.
Magda.
Dagmara knew she would never beat the assailant downstairs. She would never be able to push against the flow of the stampede to get to the front of the throne room.
Swooping to pick up a shard of glass from the broken window, she raced to the ropes that were holding up the banners. By the founding guardians, help her if this plan didn’t work.
Gripping the rope of the largest banner—or what she hoped was, she couldn’t entirely tell with the way they were intertwined—she used the shard of glass to saw through its restraints.
“Please, please,” she begged under her breath, feeling the glass simultaneously cut into the inside of her palm.
The rope snapped.
She dropped the shard and gripped the rope with both hands. Using the railing as a foothold, she leapt. Swinging from the rope, she flew over the crowd, feeling the rush in her hair as her stomach catapulted inside her. Jumping down from the rope before it swung her to the opposite wall, she landed in a roll, feeling the impact ricochet through her body. Her head spun as she pulled herself to her feet, and her hands burned, but her adrenaline surged a new spark inside her.
Dagmara skidded to the ground, sliding on her hip as she reached the princess’s hiding spot. She was surprised to see both Magda and Odie behind the column. Three other guards were cowering, their shields up to protect the princess. At least they had found her.
Magda flinched back, but upon seeing Dagmara, a relief flooded her eyes.
“There’s a panel to exit in the back!” Dagmara yelled, quickly shouting instructions to find the secret exit door. “You three,” she pointed at the guards, “protect her with your life.”
They obeyed immediately, flanking the princess and making their way toward the exit. It wasn’t their fault for cowering. They didn’t know where the threat was coming from. The exit was the best way to escape, but it was smarter that they had stayed hidden.
Dagmara, on the other hand, knew there was only one assassin left.
Rising from the hiding spot, Dagmara faced the room before her. It was empty now. The crowd had completely exited. There was only one silhouette in the center aisle, backlit by the open doors behind him.
He was holding his throwing knife, and Dagmara knew his aim was deadly, and she was weaponless. Her body was exhausted, her muscles trembling and her hands shaking. The knights had to have been protecting the Azuremi nobles or the Queen, and only a few were left, standing in front of the podium with their shields extended.
The assailant’s gaze shifted from Dagmara to the back corner. He saw the group making their escape. He had his gaze set on Magda, not bothering to waste time on Dagmara. He lifted the throwing knife, taking his aim.
“Magda!” Dagmara screamed in warning.
