He turns back to Pruinn and Nile while they peer out windows, whispering their hurried plans back together.
“Ready?”
I blink at Jeo numbly, because no, I am not ready. “We should stay in here.”
“We stay, we’re dead, Your Majesty. There aren’t enough of us here to defend you. Fleeing is our only chance,” Nile says.
They don’t wait for me to give the approval. Jeo grasps my hand and squeezes. “Keep your head down and keep running, just like before. Alright?”
My nod is heavy, my vision tunneling with adrenaline my body doesn’t know what to do with.
Nile takes up position at the door, while Pruinn and Jeo work together to carefully open the shutters, checking outside as far as they can. “Nothing,” Pruinn confirms. “And the cart is just there.”
Jeo looks over at the guard. “On your move.”
This is all happening entirely too fast.
Nile throws open the latch, making as much noise as he can at the same time that Jeo and Pruinn break through the window. Then Nile is racing through the open door with his sword held high and a threat from his mouth while Jeo jumps out the window.
The moment Jeo’s on the other side, I’m shoved and pulled simultaneously by the men. I topple out, my saddle’s hands gripping my waist as he yanks me the rest of the way. But the skirts of my dress get snagged on the serrated edges of the window as I’m pulled forcefully out, and the glass cuts right through, making blood rise from the tears in my skin. Right when I let out a hiss of pain and land on my feet outside, a scream rents the air.
Nile.
Just like before, the shout echoes and stretches, until it suddenly cuts off in a way that you know life was cut with it.
With horror and terror pounding in my veins, Jeo takes my hand just as Pruinn jumps out of the window behind me. Then we all race toward the cart, feet slogging through snow that’s up to our knees. The horses are stomping, heads shaking, blowing out frenzied breaths of fearful whinnies. Pruinn sprints past us and jumps into the driver’s seat, grabbing hold of the reins before the animals bolt.
“Hurry, Malina,” Jeo prompts, nearly dragging me through the snow to the back of the cart. Right as my hands brace against the rough wood and his hands come to help lift me up, something dark moves in my peripheral. I turn my head just in time to see a shadow move against the side of the house, and terror stabs down my spine.
“Jeo…”
He whirls around with his dagger in hand, but nothing is there. My eyes dart around, because I know I saw something, but the shadow is gone, and—
There.
My eyes fly over to the left as wisps of strange black smoke seem to peel away from the house’s shadows. I watch, frozen in fear, as it dissipates slowly, coalescing into a man with a hood over his face. The man seems to be shrouded in a dark veil, like shade is clinging to him. Even the sword in his hand is obscured, fresh blood dripping from its edges to land like a menacing threat.
Jeo whips around and shoves me hard. “GO!”
My body topples forward, hip bumping into the edge of the cart, head smacking into the frozen wood. I clamber the rest of the way in just as the reins crack like a whip from Pruinn’s hand. The cart lurches forward, and I scrabble to find a handhold as Pruinn’s hoarse “Ya!” calls out.
Jeo sprints after us, just a foot away from the cart, and he manages to grab the back ledge. Yet the man is right on his heels, racing forward. His shadows conform and melt over his body so that he turns almost invisible against his surroundings, perfectly blended in as he distorts both dark and light.
Jeo nearly trips in the thick snow, and I know within seconds, the speed of the horses will make him lose his chance, and he knows it too. With a determined grunt, he pushes himself forward and manages to grip the edge.
Yet just as he starts to pull himself up, a sword appears in the air, held aloft by this invisible demon who wields it. I open my mouth to call his name in warning, but it’s already too late.
The sound it makes as it stabs straight into Jeo’s back and through his chest is like the gasp before a scream.
My saddle’s wide blue eyes lock onto me. With shock, with fear. With death.
Jeo’s hands slip away from the back of the cart as blood blotches his coat, and he staggers in place. The cart keeps racing on without him, but his gaze stays stuck to mine, horror etched in both of our expressions.
Just a second later, the hooded shadow man wrenches his sword from my saddle’s back, making a scream tear from Jeo’s mouth.
Blood drips, stains, leaches from the hole ripped through his body, the color perfectly matching his hair.