You Are Loved

The pair moved effortlessly across the floor. The room was filled with dancing friends and scuttling children, but for a moment, they felt like the only ones there.

Their hands were both calloused from years of fighting. Still, holding his hand felt warm and familiar. They moved closer, then farther away. He put one hand on her waist, and briefly their bodies touched. His eyes never left hers.

It was the way the world was supposed to be.

He pulled away, but did not release her hand. He guided her toward the door, and she followed.

As they stepped outside, the music faded behind them. They walked along the street, still hand in hand. Two moons shone brightly overhead, illuminating his face.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Too long.” She chuckled.

“I like the dress.”

She swung in front of him so she could present herself fully. “Thank you. Elmira made it for me.”

“Well, Elmira has my thanks. You’re beautiful.”

She smiled. “I am so happy you came.”

He looked down for a moment. When he looked up, he was no longer smiling.

“It’s not all pleasant. You are in danger.”

Atalanta chuckled. “It’s part of the line of work. I didn’t expect to live this long—none of us did.”

“But there are children with you now.”

“They are shifters. They live each day knowing how short life is. We couldn’t hide it from them if we wanted to—and it would be unfair to hide it.”

“You don’t understand. You’ve become political now. The Order, other kingdoms—”

“Political? I help protect people. There are many who do the same all over the continent.”

“It’s not the swords. It’s the schools.”

“So, I built a few schools in Staria.”

“You built seven, and the king is building a dozen more.”

“How did you…?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There is nothing political about the schools. We teach peasants to read and do a little math—giving them the basics to understand the world around them.”

“That is exactly what makes them political.”

Atalanta frowned.

“A warrior’s right to capture a bride. Slavery. These aren’t just customs. They’re institutions. The Order exists to protect institutions.”

“I didn’t end slavery. That was the king. He—”

“You showed the people what was possible. You freed twenty-seven souls. You built schools for the poor. Now the people know they have power.”

Atalanta stared at him.

“The king didn’t end slavery because it was the right thing to do. And he isn’t building schools because he’s magnanimous. He’s afraid of his own people.”

Donavan looked directly into her eyes.

“And he’s terrified of you.”

“Me? I—”

“You are the most loved person in Staria. Perhaps the most loved person on the continent.”

She turned. “I am not loved.”

He pulled her close, and this time they did not drift apart. He leaned in, and their lips touched.

“You are loved.”

She pushed him away and drew her sword.

ping

ping

ping

She knocked three arrows out of the air.

Donavan staggered forward. An arrow protruded from his back. Four knights dressed in black stepped into the street.

“The Knights Guard,” Donavan gasped. “Run!”

She stepped in front of him.

“Please go,” he cried. “You won’t last thirty seconds.”

“I won’t need to.”

ping

ping

She knocked two more arrows out of the air.

Atalanta positioned herself so the approaching knights stood between her and the archers.

The arrows stopped.

The blades began.

CLANG!

“A sneak attack? Four against one.” She laughed. “And you are defenders of the Code?”

There was no answer.

She parried the blows, losing ground with each strike. She was running out of space. Her heels touched the stone wall behind her. A blade flashed just inches from her eyes.

One of the knights suddenly dropped, an arrow buried in his throat.

Atalanta smiled.

“You took too long.”

CLANG!

Jonas was suddenly at Atalanta’s side.

He parried a blow and drove his sword into an attacker’s abdomen.

More knights approached.

A crowd began forming outside the tavern.

“Get the children away from the fighting!” Miranda shouted. “Max, stay close!”

Talia rushed toward the tavern.

“I need to get Donavan someplace safe. Can someone help me bring him in?”

“Let’s go!” Jeremy was already moving toward the street.

Artemis and Daphne shot arrow after arrow as the battle moved toward the center of the street. Enemy archers fell from the rooftops one after another.

Atalanta snatched an arrow from the ground and quickly fired it at an advancing knight.

“Poison arrows!” she shouted back to Miranda. Then she muttered, “Absolutely no confidence in their work. Pathetic.”

Another arrow flew.

Another archer fell.

Jeremy pulled Donavan toward the tavern door.

“Stop!” Miranda ordered. “We do this here.”

He laid Donavan on his side.

Talia ran up holding a large leather bag, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her. “I have it, Mommy!”

“Good girl.” Miranda smiled. “Jeremy, when I count to three, you pull out the arrow. Max, we use our mana to stop the bleeding. That’s all. You don’t heal the wound. You stop when you feel tired.” She locked eyes with the boy. “That’s all!”

Max nodded.

“One, two, three!”

Jeremy pulled the arrow.

Max and Miranda kept their hands on Donavan’s back. There was no blood.

Miranda looked into Max’s eyes. Her voice was calm now. “Max, stay with me. Donavan’s mana—is it different? Tell me.”

“It’s…sweet. The poison is sweet.”

“Very good.” She turned to Talia. “Which moss do we use for sweet poison?”

“Pink!” Talia quickly pulled a paper packet filled with pink moss from the bag.

“It’s called fairy moss, but pink is good enough.” Miranda smiled. “Now I need you to put the pink moss on the wound and charge it with mana until it disappears. You have enough mana. You can do this.”

The little girl pushed the moss into the wound.

It disappeared.

“Very good!”

Talia smiled at the compliment. Then she glanced at Max. Her smile vanished.

“Max!”

Miranda looked over. His eyes had gone glassy.

“Dammit. He’s in the trance! Talia, help!”

Miranda moved her hands from Donavan onto Max. Talia followed.

His body jerked, and he collapsed backward.

Across the street, Atalanta slashed her sword through the side of the final knight.

“The archers are running away,” Artemis called, releasing another arrow. “Don’t tell me to stop.”

Atalanta looked toward the unconscious Donavan. “I won’t. But Donavan will need you soon.”

Daphne let another arrow fly. “I don’t see any more.”

“I think that’s all of them. Keep an eye out, Freckles—I have to help Sir Boring.”

Artemis hurried toward the tavern. When she saw Max lying unconscious in the street, she dropped her bow and sprinted to him.

“Max! Is he—”

“He’ll be okay,” Miranda said. “Donavan is worse. The poison did some damage before we stopped it.”

Artemis  held out her hand. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Miranda took Artemis’s hand, then placed her free hand on Donavan’s back.

Artemis winced.