11. Dagmara

Dagmara had no intention of letting the man slide off the railing, but when she drove her dagger into the back of his chest, right through his heart, his weight nearly took her off the side with him. Her grip slipped and he toppled stories below landing in a contorted position on the top of the fountain.

With a dagger in hand, she raced back toward Aleksy. The room had already erupted in chaos, and she could barely hear her own thoughts. Aleksy was gripping the rail, screaming something down to his family. He saw Dagmara and instantly shouted, “We have to get down there to protect them.”

That’s when Dagmara noticed another figure, on the opposite end of the ‘U’ shaped balcony. He had a bow in his hand and arrows strapped to his back. Two assailants? But this one was making a straight line for the staircase as if he knew his cover had been blown.

“Aleksy!” Dagmara shouted.

Aleksy saw the target across the rafters. With a rise of his hand, he summoned water from the fountain below. A dozen droplets manifested into dagger-like icicles before they hurled toward the intruder.

Throwing up his forearm in attempts to block, the intruder rolled to the ground. The water-daggers lodged into the wall and the railing in a cacophony of shattering ice and splintering wood. The intruder was on his feet as fast as he had dodged, his bow in hand as he withdrew an arrow from the case on his back.

Time froze as Dagmara stared at the assailant. He was dressed all in black, aside from a white mask. The white mask was thick, covering his whole face aside from slits for the eyes, and a black symbol was painted onto the center of the forehead.

Lurching back into reality, Dagmara noticed with stark horror that Aleksy was weaponless to fight in this close of quarters.

The intruder set the arrow and released, Aleksy barely dodging in the confines of the rafters. The arrow made contact with one of the stained glass windows, shattering it to oblivion and coating the ground in pink glass.

There was something else. The intruder’s gloves had claws on the back of their knuckles.

Aleksy charged forward as the intruder tried to ready the next arrow. The prince kicked him in the side of the hip before decking him across the face with a punch.

Unfazed, the intruder backhanded Aleksy. Aleksy tried to dodge, but the claws caught the side of his cheeks. With a rake of his foot, the intruder tripped Aleksy, sending him to the ground.

“No!” Dagmara yelled. She didn’t know what came over her. Wielding nothing but a dagger, desperately wishing she had the explosive from Teos, she raced forward, aiming for the intruder’s chest.

The intruder, with horrifying accuracy, grabbed Dagmara’s wrist, bending it backward before the dagger was anywhere near his chest. She screamed in pain, the dagger flying from her grip. She watched in horror as it was tossed out the open window, disappearing from sight.

Looking up at the intruder, she knew with certainty that this was the end. He had an iron grip on her wrist, and could easily knock her out or use the bow to strangle her.

Instead, he released her and shoved the ball of his palm into her throat. She was on her back in an instant, choking for breath from the blow. Her hands flew to her neck as she gasped for air. Then the assailant turned his back on her and reached for another arrow.

As Dagmara begged for air, she knew he had let her live. This wasn’t an attack on Azurem. This was a coordinated group of assassins after one thing only.

The guardians.

Luckily her distraction had given Aleksy enough time to summon more water from the fountain below. When the assailant turned to face him, the prince wielded a magnificent ice sword, glittering in the sun that poured in from the open window. With one overwhelming thrust, Aleksy drove the blade of ice through the intruder’s chest. The enemy was dead on impact, and as Aleksy withdrew the blade, the enemy fell to the ground with a hard thud.

Aleksy raced to Dagmara’s aid as she continued to struggle for air.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with piercing blue light. He was dazzling, his pale skin almost glowing with magic. Three claw marks raked down the side of his cheek, and blood poured from the open wounds.

“Your face…” Dagmara’s voice rasped.

“I’m fine.” Aleksy offered her a smile. He lifted the iceblade slowly, showing her his magic. The iceblade melted in his grip, and she could see the water slither up his arm, his chest, and reach his face. The water brushed over his porcelain skin, healing the wounds immediately. All that was left was drops of blood on his doublet.

He was a true Guardian of Life.

She gave him a breathless smile, relieved.

He rose to his feet and extended a hand down to her. She gripped his hand to let him help her to her feet, when a throwing knife whizzed through the air. The deadly weapon found purchase in the center of Aleksy’s chest.

A shock rippled through their connected hands, an electrifying jolt singeing her palm. She screamed, scrambling to her feet and catching Aleksy as he fell backward. She landed hard on her knees, his head cradled in her lap.

“No, no, no, Aleksy!” she shouted, her palm touching his cheek.

But the knife was perfectly thrown, stabbing through his heart. It may as well have been stabbed through hers.

“You’re going to be alright, you can heal this,” Dagmara said, brushing a silver lock of hair off his forehead.

Aleksy choked, blood sputtering from his lips.

A sob burst from Dagmara’s throat. “Please, Aleksy, please don’t leave me.”

The prince met Dagmara’s gaze one more time. “Save…Magda.”

His body fell limp.

“No!” The scream erupted from deep within, tearing through her throat. Looking up, she desperately searched for who had thrown the knife.

That’s when she saw the figure in the stairwell doorway. He was broad, wearing the same attire as the other two, holding another throwing knife in his hand. The white mask covered his face, but the dread seeping through Dagmara’s body made her realize that his eyes were directly on her.

He inclined his head slightly, and a chill ran down her spine, casting her whole body in an imaginary state of ice. Suddenly the room felt colder, and the air harder to breathe. The assassin looked at her, and it was almost as if time was frozen.

Then he turned on his heel and disappeared down the stairwell.

She remembered Aleksy’s last words.

Save Magda.

Three assailants. Three targets.

Setting Aleksy on the ground, she rose to her feet, peering over the wall to the ground below. The crowd was massive, and a stampede was still trying to make its way to the exit. She scanned the area around the fountain, her heart plummeting in her chest upon spotting the limp body of the king.

But on the side of the room she saw movement.

Magda.

Dagmara knew she would never beat the assailant downstairs. She would never be able to push against the flow of the stampede to get to the front of the throne room.

Swooping to pick up a shard of glass from the broken window, she raced to the ropes that were holding up the banners. By the founding guardians, help her if this plan didn’t work.

Gripping the rope of the largest banner—or what she hoped was, she couldn’t entirely tell with the way they were intertwined—she used the shard of glass to saw through its restraints.

“Please, please,” she begged under her breath, feeling the glass simultaneously cut into the inside of her palm.

The rope snapped.

She dropped the shard and gripped the rope with both hands. Using the railing as a foothold, she leapt. Swinging from the rope, she flew over the crowd, feeling the rush in her hair as her stomach catapulted inside her. Jumping down from the rope before it swung her to the opposite wall, she landed in a roll, feeling the impact ricochet through her body. Her head spun as she pulled herself to her feet, and her hands burned, but her adrenaline surged a new spark inside her.

Dagmara skidded to the ground, sliding on her hip as she reached the princess’s hiding spot. She was surprised to see both Magda and Odie behind the column. Three other guards were cowering, their shields up to protect the princess. At least they had found her.

Magda flinched back, but upon seeing Dagmara, a relief flooded her eyes.

“There’s a panel to exit in the back!” Dagmara yelled, quickly shouting instructions to find the secret exit door. “You three,” she pointed at the guards, “protect her with your life.”

They obeyed immediately, flanking the princess and making their way toward the exit. It wasn’t their fault for cowering. They didn’t know where the threat was coming from. The exit was the best way to escape, but it was smarter that they had stayed hidden.

Dagmara, on the other hand, knew there was only one assassin left.

Rising from the hiding spot, Dagmara faced the room before her. It was empty now. The crowd had completely exited. There was only one silhouette in the center aisle, backlit by the open doors behind him.

He was holding his throwing knife, and Dagmara knew his aim was deadly, and she was weaponless. Her body was exhausted, her muscles trembling and her hands shaking. The knights had to have been protecting the Azuremi nobles or the Queen, and only a few were left, standing in front of the podium with their shields extended.

The assailant’s gaze shifted from Dagmara to the back corner. He saw the group making their escape. He had his gaze set on Magda, not bothering to waste time on Dagmara. He lifted the throwing knife, taking his aim.

“Magda!” Dagmara screamed in warning.

Before the intruder had a chance to throw, something skittered across the ground, rolling out from underneath the pews. It was a small, metallic ball, a few yards ahead of the intruder, blocking his path down the center aisle.

The assailant and Dagmara simultaneously realized what it was.

An explosion lit the throne room. The assassin threw up his hands, blocking his face from the rubble that scattered across the ground. Shards of the surrounding pews broke off, flying in haphazard directions. Dagmara felt the earth rumble underneath her, and she extended her hands for balance.

The smoke cleared, revealing the assassin behind, his figure menacing. He had been too far back from the explosion to be killed, but nevertheless, it had saved the princess. It had bought Magda enough time to make it to the exit.

With one glance toward the back exit, the assassin came to the conclusion that the princess had escaped. Then the assassin met Dagmara’s gaze once more, but she stood, unwavering. It was almost as if he gave her a promise that he would be back, before he turned and fled.

“Go after him!” Dagmara commanded the few guards that remained in the throne room. They obeyed immediately, charging after him.

After the throne room seemed to fall silent once more, the air thick from the small blast, Dagmara heard shuffling. She strode forward to the noise at the center of the throne room before dropping down and seeing her brother under the pews.

“I knew I wouldn’t make it in the stampede so I hid,” Teos’s explanation came tumbling out before Dagmara could ask.

But she didn’t care. Dropping to her knees, she reached out and grabbed his arms, pulling him out from underneath the pew before embracing him. The destruction of the explosive—his explosive—was still scattered around them.

“What did you do that for?” she let out, gripping him tighter and burying her cheek into his blonde hair.

He hugged her back, leaning all his weight into her. “We’re a team.”

A heavy weight fell over her, and she felt the tears rushing to her eyes. Squeezing him even stronger, as though she was making sure he was still there, she looked up to the rafters.

“He’s dead, Teos,” Dagmara gasped, a choked sob escaping her mouth. Her gaze shifted to the king, sprawled on the stage at the front of the throne room. “They’re both…” she had to look away from the king, the only father figure she ever had.

Then she looked at the dead body in the fountain—the first intruder that had fallen over the edge. His mask had snapped off his face, rolling farther down the aisle.

She didn’t recognize the symbol on the center of the mask. But she knew she wouldn’t forget it for the rest of her life.

“We’re safe—” Teos broke off into a fit of coughing.

Dagmara jerked back, taking in his face. Her heart plummeted in her chest as she met his bloodshot gaze.

“Teos…” she breathed.

“I-I’m fine,” he muttered. “It’s the dust and debris.”

The next cough was a gurgle, thick with mucus.

Gasping, Dagmara pulled him tight into an embrace. Denial and desperation coursed through her as tears rolled from her face. It wasn’t the debris making him cough. It wasn’t the dust turning his eyes bloodshot.

He had zowach, the deadly illness that plagued the children of Azurem. Maybe she had brought it back from one of her assassinations. She had no idea how the illness operated. If Teos was lucky, he had a year left before the disease took his life. He wouldn’t survive without medication.

The only cure was in Ilusauri, the kingdom with uniforms identical to the assassins. If the Mad King sent these assassins, there was no way he would send Azurem medicine. He probably liked watching Azurem’s children die.

Because of that monster, Teos was as good as dead.