Chapter 16

ANA

Ana snapped her eyes open, the water extinguishing the flames of her passion in an instant. Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to comprehend the abrupt interruption.

With a snarl that could rival a bear, Quinn sprang to his feet and drew his sword, his stance ready for battle. As she sat up, she shifted her gaze to Guignol, standing beside a discarded bucket.

"Don't presume to disturb us without a bloody good reason," Quinn thundered, his voice filled with rage. "I have tolerated your insolence for far too long." His blade pressed against Guignol's throat. "You shall provide a compelling rationale for your egregious intrusion," he growled.

Ana's hands clenched into fists at her side, a surge of annoyance coursing through her. She scanned the onlookers and realized that their private moment was not private but rather a spectacle for others to behold. With swift glances, gnomes and gargoyles loitered with their eyes wide with curiosity and their faces twisted in amusement.

"Apologies. Did I interrupt once again?" The royal advisor furrowed his brow, his attention fixed on Quinn. "The king demands your immediate presence." With a grunt, he brushed the sword aside in a sharp motion. He clenched his teeth, then turned and stomped toward the castle.

Quinn growled anew. Then, he spun to Ana and said, "I apologize, my lady." His rough finger tenderly grazed her cheek, leaving a faint trail of warmth. "I shall have my cousin, Daxos, continue your training." Though his tone softened, his jaw tensed. "I must attend to my father."

Despite her urge to lash out at Guignol, Ana curbed her anger, though her eye muscle twitched. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, and she wanted nothing more than to pull Quinn back into her arms. The realization of his duty to his father weighed heavily on her heart.

At a loss for what to say, she merely mumbled, her words almost lost in the air. "Uh…" she raised a brow. "I understand." She hugged herself, feeling the pang of disappointment.

He gripped her hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing each finger as if he understood and agreed with her sexual frustration.

"After, we shall continue where we left off." He smiled at her, sending heat up her spine, but when he walked away, the warmth dissipated, leaving her cold.

Mixed emotions flared inside of her as Quinn sent for Daxos, her hands clenching. She glanced around at all the eyes still surreptitiously ogling her. Groaning that so many had witnessed her intimate moment, her cheeks heated. How embarrassing! Mortified, she hugged herself again, wishing she could disappear within her wings.

Quinn continued to walk away. In front of him, Guignol glared back at her, his set facial expression making her shiver. She didn't trust him. She didn't like him much, either.

"I was summoned?" a voice asked from behind.

She jumped and clutched her chest, startled from her thoughts. She turned to see Daxos. "I … uh… well, Quinn did. The king called him away, and he wanted you to continue my training."

"As he wishes." He smirked. "What have you been working on?"

Daxos listened attentively as Ana shared her progress. Hi nodded. "We shall hone your swordsmanship first; then we conquer the skies."

Agile and precise, Daxos moved with the same controlled grace as Quinn. Ana, fueled by determination to match his movements, parried each of his strikes. Metal sang with every clash, sending a satisfying resonance up her arm.

Daxos paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Quinn was astute. You're doing well." He sheathed his sword. "Now, for flying." His words warmed her, but a flicker of unease sparked in her chest.

Her confidence, nurtured by Quinn, wavered in his absence. Still, her chin remained high as she ascended the training platform, the highest ledge overlooking the castle grounds. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying the sweet scent of blooming trees. Stepping onto the peak, she took a deep breath. The breathtaking vista was bathed in the fiery glow of the setting sun.

With closed eyes, Ana visualized Quinn's encouraging smile. His voice, a comforting echo in her mind, urged her to conquer this phobia. After opening her eyes, she leaped, hovering above the ground, battling the fear that threatened to engulf her.

However, the tranquil scene shattered just as she began to feel secure. Large shapes materialized from the darkening sky—gargoyle soldiers' forms silhouetted against the blazing sunset. With their leathery wings flapping with terrifying speed, they swooped toward her.

Caught off guard, Ana reacted on instinct. She banked hard left, the wind whistling past her ears as the lead gargoyle's outstretched claws grazed her wing. Terror hammered against her ribs, and her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists.

Daxos roared and darted toward Ana, his sword drawn. He collided with one of the attackers. Their blades clashed in a whirlwind of metal and fury.

Panic constricted Ana's throat, making breathing difficult. Another warrior, his eyes burning with predatory desire, swooped down on Ana—his razor-sharp talons glinting in the dying light. With a desperate twist, she dodged the attack, but the sudden movement threw her off balance. The wind from his wings buffeted her, sending her spiraling out of control. Despite her frantic wingbeats, she failed to gain steadiness in the chaotic air. With a choked gasp, she plummeted toward the earth, the world spinning into a dizzying blur.

As the ground loomed ominously, a chilling dread seeped into her bones. Her primal scream morphed into a silent prayer for a dignified end. Yet, instead of a bone-shattering impact, she landed with a squelch in a wet, yielding pile, the stench replacing her fear with a grim resignation.

Surrounded by suffocating darkness, weight pressed against her, causing her to hold her breath. Clawing her way to the surface, the slimy muck slipped through her fingers, making her struggle even more arduous. Fueled by a desperate need for escape and oxygen, she persisted.

Finally emerging, she gasped for fresh air, her eyes stinging as she attempted to wipe away the grime. The putrid stink had served as a repulsive cushion upon her landing.

Oalnt manure. She'd fallen into the dung pile. Disgust battled with relief in her churning stomach. The god-awful odor clung to her like a second skin, each breath a reminder of her less-than-graceful crash. A throbbing pain pulsed in her side, a dull echo of the fall. Swallowing back the bile rising in her throat, she fought the urge to vomit. This might be the most humiliating way to be saved, but she was alive.

Tilda moved in front of her. "Ma'am," the gnome said, her jaw clenched tight. She kept her gaze averted, her eyes darting around. "We must get you inside." Ana glanced back—her attackers were subdued by the king's soldiers. The situation felt precarious; a growing sense of unease seemed to grip everyone. The giggling gnomes from earlier scurried past them, disappearing into the orchard.

Tilda pinched her nose with a grimace. "Quickly, then." Reaching the castle, Tilda held open the heavy keep door for Ana.

As they hurried through the halls, the wet slap of Ana's manure-coated soles made her cringe with each step. Turning a corner, she struggled to maintain her balance on her slippery feet.

To her surprise, her guards were nowhere to be seen. Tilda slammed the door shut behind them.

Desperate for a bath, Ana grabbed clean clothes. Meanwhile, the gnome rushed to the window and threw open the curtains. A cool breeze, carrying the sweet scent of jasmine from Ana's windowsill plant, washed away the stench. The tension in Tilda's shoulders visibly eased.

Ana giggled. The odor was dreadful. Yet before she commented, a loud crash shattered the tranquility. Startled, Ana whirled around to see three soldiers burst through the door, their faces grim. The hinges ripped off, leaving the door a mangled mess on the floor.

Tilda, ever loyal, lunged toward the intruders. "You have no business here!"

One gargoyle lashed out with a vicious kick, sending Tilda flying. She slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, her body crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

"No," Ana screamed, rushing to Tilda's side, but another guard seized her wrist. Ana, her skin slick with manure, slipped free of his grasp. He lunged, grabbing her again, his claws digging painfully into her skin. The gargoyle inhaled, then wrinkled his nose and coughed.

Without hesitation, she grasped his thumb and twisted her arm, managing to break free from his clutch. Acting quickly, she launched a powerful sidekick into his stomach, propelling him into the nearby wall. However, he didn't linger on the ground, swiftly recovering from the impact.

Another guard charged. Years of martial arts training flickered in her mind but was overlaid with the surprising grace she'd discovered wielding a sword with Quinn. Ana tucked her wings tight, the maneuver now instinctive. She swung a cross punch but missed and hit the wall … the stone crumbled under her force. After a roundhouse kick to one soldier, she spun and back-kicked another. Yet he blocked the blow.

Ana whipped her tail, honed by countless frustrated moments pulling weeds, lashing out with newfound purpose. It snapped against the guard's chest, his surprised grunt a testament to the impact.

An outside crescent kick landed on his head, and a spinning hook kick sent him reeling. The guards were fast, but she matched their speed, her growls reflecting her mounting anger and determination.

However, worry gnawed at her. Through the chaos, she couldn't shake the image of Tilda lying motionless on the floor. As she parried another attack, a hand darted from behind and yanked a hood over her head. Panic clawed at her throat as the rough fabric blocked out all light and restricted her movements above the waist. The stench of mildew mingled with the cloying odor of manure creating a suffocating assault on her senses.

"Let go of me!" She lashed out with her tail, connecting with a leg. The satisfying thump of a body hitting the floor brought a fleeting moment of victory.

"No, female, you belong to another," one gargoyle growled.

Pulling one leg into her chest, she delivered a powerful sidekick. "No, I don't." A body crashed into the table. Ana's silent cheer turned into a silent scream as they bound her legs to her tail.

She twisted and fought like a trapped animal, the rough rope burning her skin. A brawny arm wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet.

"Let me go," she screamed, bucking in protest. A sharp blow to her head sent stars exploding behind her eyes.

"The instructions were clear—the female remains unharmed," another roared. "Do it again, and you shall know my blade."

"Well, if the female didn't give such a hard time, I …"

Another growl cut him off. "We need to move. The mole's information was thin. He didn't know when the prince might finish the king's quest."

While he carried her, she winced with each step, her torso bouncing painfully on his shoulder. Then, the guard stopped. "Ugh! What is this smell?" Her body shifted again. "Why does the female stink? You take her!"

He hurled her through the air like a pillow, her stomach lurching with every flip and turn before landing in another's firm grip. When her head hit a hard object, a sharp, searing pain shot through her skull, and down her neck her consciousness began slipping away. Though she fought shadows as they slithered over her vision, it was a losing battle. The guards' words sounded muffled, and they faded away altogether as she fell into the abyss of darkness.