Princess Turned Barter

Chapter Eleven

Kyra

The princess is dragging her feet into the snow along next to me, her body weighing more than I had imagined a small and frail woman to weigh. I tug on the small rope attached to her wrists to speed her up. The snow is beginning to fall rapidly, and I wish to move faster than its downpour so we do not end up as three freezing bodies slowly dying in the forest.

"Kyra," Darius calls from behind me.

"Yes?" I respond, eyes forward and another rug to the rope.

"Is there any chance of slowing down?" He pleads, exhaustion laces his tone.

As if Darius lives to argue with my every thought.

"Tired already? What happened to all that stamina?" I ask with a small laugh, yet another tug.

The princess stops abruptly, causing me to jolt backwards into the taught rope. I angrily pull at her but I'm met with solid resistance, which in turn causes me to come to a begrudging halt. Darius's footsteps become quiet and few behind us. I glance angrily over my shoulder to see him begin to sway like one of the winter trees.

The princess is long forgotten as I run to my friend's aid, although I hear her tiny feet trot alongside me like a pony. Why she bothers, and does not just dash for the hills, is unbeknownst to me - and is also the least of my concern.

I am able to catch Darius just before he makes contact with the shrubbery. A wince leaves his pale lips as he moves his cloak to the side to uncover a dark red patch on the stomach of his shirt. I bore my gaze into his, the sunken look of his eyes burning into my memory. The once vibrant blue is now as dull as a blade used in combat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, pulling my friend into my lap before pushing my hands heavily onto the wound.

The feeling of blood soaking between my fingertips, his blood, is a feeling I never wished to encounter. I have touched many dead bodies, waded through blood almost as thick as mud and as voluminous as a river - and yet never have I touched or smelt the blood of a friend. He smells of wine. It unsettles me.

"We needed to get away from the carriage, Kyra. This mission is too important." He admits, raising his weak arm and resting his hand on my shoulder. "No matter what happens, you have to keep going."

I swallow, the wine smell now sickening and sharp. I don't want to take a deep breath, I don't want to inhale any more of it.

This was not how our plan was supposed to go.

We stay quiet for a moment, staring at each other in disbelief. A small smile creeps onto his face as his blood stops seeping from the wound - the same smile that made us friends.

"Thank you for all you have done," I whisper softly.

Darius coughs and nods, splattering blood back through my fingers that are still desperately placed on the wound - trying my best to hold any fluids in his ripped flesh. The snow underneath us begins to drink greedily, letting me know in the cruellest of ways that the wound has gone all the way through. There's no saving him.

Blood continues to pour, I continue to hold him.

"Promise me something," Darius says between gritted teeth.

"Anything," I state openly, a lump forming in the back of my throat.

My stomach hurts, my fingers ache.

"Try not to be so gruesome, we don't want to traumatise the princess," Darius chuckles lightly and I find myself reciprocating his weak smile.

"I promise to try," I reply to him, my voice breaking.