A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 41 - "Get her!"

Lydia

"Kill him then return to me!" King Titus yelled furiously.

Lydia could only watch in paralyzed horror as a dozen men stormed towards Wilder. Too many, there were too many. She knew Wilder could fight but not this many. She saw as he swung towards his first opponent but that's all she glimpsed before the two soldiers gripping her arms dragged her down another corridor behind King Titus.

Lydia had to get free, she had to help Wilder. She had to do something! That single thought broke through her paralysis. She jerked her arm, trying to free herself. The soldier merely glared at her and shifted his hold to her upper arm. That was all Lydia needed.

Bending her elbow at an awkward angle, she managed to tease one of the stiletto blades out of her tunic. She stabbed the soldier's hand who held her forearm. He cried out and released her. She quickly tugged out another blade and buried it in her other captor's bicep. He swore as Lydia fled.

She raced back to the corridor where Wilder was. He needed help. She needed to help him. But as she reached the archway a single thought struck her. He couldn't protect himself if he was trying to protect her. Lydia stuttered then changed directions.

"Get her!" Titus shouted.

Lydia saw the fury on the two soldiers' faces as they came at her, swords drawn. Lydia sprinted down a corridor then ducked into another. Turn after turn, she flew through the hallways she knew better than any. How many times had she performed this same disappearing act to the annoyance of those seeking her? Her feet knew where to go even before her mind had made the decision.

She thought of the stables, the safety of them, the chance to find a horse and run away. Run away...To where? Where would she go? This was where she'd grown up. A place she had returned to in order to reclaim it. To steal it back from a King who'd stolen it from her. She couldn't run, she had to fight.

But how? She'd lost her sword. And these soldiers were battle experienced whereas she was training yard practiced. She would not survive. Not if she faced them head on. But this was her palace. She knew it like no other.

Lydia slowed to a halt.

She stared at the doors leading to the stables, the promise of escape waiting just beyond. She could leave, flee once again. But then what would the alliance, the lives given here be worth? This battle needed to end. She needed to see King Titus fall.

Bottling up the fear that rose inside her, Lydia turned away.

She ran back down the corridor, searching for the sound of footsteps. Only two soldiers had been with King Titus, the rest having gone to attack Wilder. If she could get passed or get those two soldiers out of the way, she could face the King. But how? He was bigger, stronger, faster than her?

When Lydia heard footsteps, she peeked around a corner. Further down, peering into one of the rooms along the hall was one of their soldiers. Lydia pulled back and gazed around. She heard Wilder's voice in her head drilling strategy of how to use her surroundings, how to wound an opponent to gain an advantage, how to inflict fatal wounds. With his voice in her head, she knew what to do.

When she spotted an alcove, she darted to it and crouched down. Across the way lay a line of archways obscured by gauzy curtains that gently swayed with a breeze from outside. The rhythmic movement contrasted Lydia's frantic heartbeat. Blood thundered in her ears and she kept trying to force down her terror.

But as she stared at the curtains she remembered the flowing dresses her mother wore and how even in the most distressing situations her mother remained calm. Lydia clung to the ghost of her mother, needing her strength.