I forced my frozen body into action, swinging around and managing to catch at the princess as she attempted to throw herself into the fray.
“Evie! Let me go!” she panted, but I shook my head and held on tighter. “You only have a dagger Celine. They have spears and swords. Frederic gave me orders, and I’m not letting you be killed.”
“I won’t cower while others die,” Celine said with a hiss. “I want to fight.”
“And you can fight,” I agreed. My hand tightened. “When you have the right tools and training.”
I looked around but could now see no sign of most of the traders who had joined us in the center of the ring. Ofie’s cousin still cowered near me, but Tillie was no longer in sight. The older nobles, however, had surprised me. They stood in a united block with finely crafted blades shimmering before them. Thanks to them, our inner circle still held, although everywhere else chaos seemed to reign. Cassian, however, had disappeared. I could only hope he was still alive and unharmed. Frederic, at least, seemed unconcerned about him, his whole focus on us.
Two more attackers appeared with ferocious yells, and Frederic lunged forward to engage them both, his sword flashing so quickly my eyes could barely follow it. Even with two, he was holding them off.
Then a third appeared. Frederic faltered for less than half a second, adjusting his rhythm to hold off the newcomer, but even with his superior skill, the strain was starting to show.
“Now, will you let go of me?” Celine asked with a significant look.
I nodded but didn’t release my tight grip. I adjusted the dagger in my other hand. “Both of us,” I said as quietly as I could. “You crawl to the left, I’ll go to the one on the right. Don’t try to get fancy, just go for his foot. We just need to distract him for Frederic.”
She nodded once, and I let go, shimmying immediately to my right. Giving a wide arc around Frederic, not wanting to risk tripping him up, I crawled unseen to the right-most attacker. As soon as I reached him, I heard a yell from the man to the left. Without waiting to check what had happened with Celine, I plunged my dagger into the foot of the man in front of me.
Chapter 23
He screamed and cursed, staggering and nearly falling as I scooted quickly back out of the way. A moment later, he fell and didn’t rise again. With two of his attackers injured and distracted, Frederic made quick work of them all.
When his blade dropped, his breath coming ragged, he nodded at us both. I had half expected a reprimand, but his reaction indicated how much danger we had been in. Celine, looking paler than I expected, crawled quickly back to meet me behind her brother.
“I…I didn’t think it would feel like that,” she whispered in my ear.
I patted her shoulder. “If you need to vomit, try to hold it at least until the fighting has finished.”
And the fighting did seem to be dying down, the battle decreasing in both scope and severity. No other attackers made it through to us, and soon the sound of fighting had entirely ceased. We had prevailed.
Frederic turned to look back at us, his eyes skimming over Celine, who was already pushing herself to her feet, to land on me. He dropped to one knee beside me, his hand cradling my cheek.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head mutely.
“That was very brave.”
I managed a shaky laugh. “Hardly. Not compared to what you and so many others did.”
He shrugged. “I have spent many years training to use a blade.”
I swallowed. “Your leadership will be needed now. I’m unharmed.”
He nodded, almost reluctantly, and then stood. “Take as many prisoners as you can,” he called across the circles of camels, striding away from us.
I looked around at the aftermath, trying to see our toll for myself. “Where’s Cassian? I saw him fighting over in that direction, but he disappeared from sight.”
“There,” said Celine, and something in her tone of voice made me turn quickly. My eyes widened at the sight of Cassian striding toward us, Tillie cradled protectively in his arms, her hands around his neck, and her face tucked against his chest.
“Is that…and…”
“Yes,” said Celine. “I can’t believe it.” I couldn’t tell if the shock on her face was from the battle we had just lived through or the sight of the two of them in such a lover-like pose.
Not far from us, Cassian gently placed Tillie’s feet on the ground, ringing her in his arms and pressing his lips firmly down over hers. She returned the embrace enthusiastically while Celine and I watched with wide eyes.
When he let her go, he looked regretful. “I must attend to the wounded.”
“Yes.” Tillie’s voice shook. “I know where to find the medical supplies. I will be with you as soon as I can.”
After one last second of gazing into each other’s eyes, they separated, Cassian to kneel beside the closest wounded trader, his steady hands assessing his wounds, and Tillie to frantically tear at a pack located near us.
After a brief exchange of glances, we joined her. Between the three of us, we managed to get the fastenings undone, searching through the bags and pockets inside for the necessary bandages and medications.
“What…what happened?” I asked as we worked, our hurried fingers slipping and sliding in our haste. I didn’t even quite know how to frame the question.
“He saved me,” Tillie said breathlessly. “He nearly died doing it. He was so brave.” She cast a lightning quick look at us. “And he looked so handsome. I knew immediately he was everything I wanted in a man.”
Celine paused for the briefest moment before quickly resuming her task. “I suppose it helps that he appears to be able to talk to you now.”
“He’s been fine ever since the crisis began,” I pointed out. “I guess he just needed to be shocked out of it.”
“He told me he’s written poetry for me,” said Tillie, sounding shy for the first time since I’d known her.
Celine choked. “Poetry? Cassian?”
“Here!” I said triumphantly, upending a bag filled with armfuls of clean bandage rolls. “Quickly now.”
All three of us scooped up as many as we could carry and ran in opposite directions. I tried to shut my nose and ears as I picked my way among the wounded. To my relief, we seemed to have more whole than wounded, and everywhere I stopped there was someone ready to receive a roll of bandage. The trader life was rough, and everyone had some basic level medical training.
The Tour doctor, who had been protected in the middle of the nobles’ circle—a sensible move of which I highly approved—worked frantically, moving between the worst of the wounded. Night fell as we labored on to stem any bleeding and assess the damage.
Many of the camels had been lost, and I saw Ofie’s young cousin weeping over three of theirs. To my relief, my friend stood behind him, comforting him despite the white bandage wrapped around his arm. When he saw me, he waved, shrugging off the wound as a graze.
Others had not been so fortunate, and the row of still bodies, while smaller than I had feared, still brought tears and a wrenching pain in my gut. Among the unfamiliar faces, I recognized a palace servant and three genuine guards, plus one trader who I had played with as a child. Fresh tears poured down my face.
Many times, when I faced another trader, I placed my palm against my heart, letting my action replace the words I could not find. Or I grasped their arms and rested my forehead against theirs, letting centuries of trader culture give me the words I couldn’t form on my own.
“Does it work?” asked Celine in a subdued voice, at one point. “Does it bring you comfort?”
I considered her words. “All I know is this: I once mourned a bandit attack alone, this day I mourn one with others. I feel stronger now than I did then, as the words say.”
She nodded once, her eyes shadowed. Someone had explained to her the fate of Caravan Osmira.