The prince turned just in time to see the glint of the arrowhead hurtling toward him. His eyes widened, and instinctively, he began to raise his sword to deflect it. But before he could react, Lysandra moved in with a burst of speed, she lunged forward, shoving Alaric out of the arrow's path. The force of her push sent him stumbling backward, his sword slipping from his grip as he fell to the ground. A sharp, searing pain ripped through her shoulder as the arrow struck, embedding itself deep just below her collarbone.
Lysandra staggered but stayed upright, her breathing ragged as her free hand gripped the shaft of the arrow. She clenched her teeth, swallowing the cry of pain that threatened to escape. Blood seeped through her tunic.
"Lysandra!" Alaric scrambled to his feet; his expression stricken as he moved toward her.
"Stay back!" she barked, her voice hoarse but commanding. Her sharp eyes darted around the clearing, searching for the archer, but the figure in the tree was already gone, melting into the shadows as if they had never been there.
The remaining attackers seemed to falter, exchanging quick glances before retreating into the forest. Their movements were deliberate, almost rehearsed, as though abandoning the fight had been part of their plan all along. Within moments, the clearing was empty, the sound of their footsteps fading into the dense woods.
Alaric stood frozen, his sword hanging limply in his hand as he processed what had just happened. His gaze shifted to Lysandra, who was breathing heavily, her hand still gripping the arrow in her shoulder. She leaned against a nearby tree for support, her face pale but defiant.
"They're gone," she muttered, her voice tight with pain. "Cowards."
Alaric rushed to her side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to steady her or examine the wound. "You… you took that for me."
Lysandra glared at him, her sharp gaze cutting through his shock. "Don't flatter yourself," she hissed. "You're the one they were aiming for. I just didn't want to be stuck explaining to your knights how their prince got himself killed."
Despite her biting words, her knees buckled slightly, and Alaric quickly moved to support her. "We need to get that arrow out," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "And you need to sit down before you collapse."
Lysandra didn't argue, Alaric carefully helped Lysandra settle against the base of the tree she had been leaning on. She grimaced as she shifted, her breathing shallow and labored. Blood stained her tunic around the arrow lodged in her shoulder, the crimson stark against the dark fabric. Despite her obvious pain, her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the surrounding forest for any lingering threats.
"You need to stay still," Alaric said firmly, kneeling beside her. His voice was calm but carried a note of urgency. "I have to stop the bleeding before we even think about taking the arrow out."
Lysandra let out a ragged breath, her lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the situation. "Don't tell me you've suddenly become a healer."
Alaric shot her a look. " Try to humor me, at least until I keep you from bleeding out."
She didn't argue, though her hand still gripped the shaft of the arrow as if unwilling to relinquish control. Alaric scanned the immediate area, his eyes darting through the dense underbrush and shadows of the forest. Their horses had scattered in the chaos of the ambush, but he hoped they hadn't gone far.
"Stay here," he said, standing and unsheathing a small dagger from his belt. "I'm going to see if I can find the horses. The saddlebag on mine has bandages."
"I'm not going anywhere," she muttered, her voice taut with sarcasm but tinged with pain.
Alaric spared her a glance, the faintest flicker of a smile crossing his face despite the tension. "Good."
He moved quickly but cautiously, stepping over fallen branches and keeping an ear out for any signs of movement. The forest was quiet now, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The attackers seemed to have vanished entirely, but Alaric remained on edge, his grip tight on his dagger.
After a few tense moments, he spotted a glimmer of silver through the trees—the bridle of his horse. The animal stood a short distance away, pawing nervously at the ground but otherwise unharmed. A wave of relief washed over him as he approached slowly, murmuring soft reassurances to keep the horse calm.
Once he had the reins in hand, he scanned the area again, spotting Lysandra's horse grazing nearby. He retrieved it quickly, tying both animals to a low-hanging branch before rummaging through the saddlebag. His fingers closed around the roll of bandages, along with a small vial of antiseptic, and he hurried back to where Lysandra lay.
She was still under the tree, her eyes half-closed but alert, her free hand resting near the hilt of her dagger. When she saw him return, she let out a shaky breath, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. "Took you long enough."
"Try not to sound so thrilled to see me," Alaric replied, kneeling beside her again. He set the bandages and antiseptic vial on the ground, his movements quick and efficient. "I'm going to bandage around the arrow to slow the bleeding before we remove it. This is going to hurt."
"No shit," Lysandra said, as if this wasn't the first or last time she taken an arrow.
Alaric nodded, gently moving her hand away from the arrow. As he began unrolling the bandages, his focus shifted entirely to her wound, his brow furrowed with concentration. Despite her earlier quips, Lysandra watched him in silence, her sharp gaze studying the way his hands moved with surprising precision.
In the back of her mind, a small thought flickered—one she quickly dismissed. For a prince, he's not half bad to be around.
Alaric worked quickly; his focus unwavering as he prepared to remove the arrow. Lysandra's sharp breaths filled the silence between them, her teeth clenched as she braced herself. His hands were steady, and though his brow was furrowed in concentration, his voice was calm when he finally spoke.
"On the count of three," he said softly, his hand gripping the shaft of the arrow.
"Just do it," she snapped, her voice tight with both pain and frustration.
He didn't argue. With one fluid motion, he pulled the arrow free. The pain was instant and blinding, ripping a raw, involuntary reaction from her. "Fuck!" Lysandra hissed through gritted teeth, her head snapping back against the tree trunk. Her hand shot up instinctively toward her shoulder, but Alaric caught her wrist, his touch firm yet careful.
"Don't move," he said, his voice sharp but laced with concern. He grabbed the vial of antiseptic with his free hand, quickly uncorking it and pouring the liquid onto the wound.
The sting was immediate, and Lysandra hissed again, her entire body tensing. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she growled, her voice dripping with venom even as she fought to stay still.
"If you think I enjoy watching you bleed all over the forest, then you've got a strange idea of my hobbies," Alaric shot back, his tone tight as he pressed a clean cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding. His face was inches from hers now, his breath warm against her skin as he worked.
Lysandra tried to focus on anything but the pain, but the proximity was impossible to ignore. His jaw was set with determination, his usually composed features shadowed with worry. For a brief, fleeting moment, she caught herself noticing the intensity in his eyes—an intensity that wasn't born from duty alone.
"You're too close," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
"You can complain about my proximity when you're not bleeding." he replied without looking up, his hands already moving to wrap the bandages around her shoulder.
Despite herself, a faint smirk tugged at her lips, though it was quickly replaced by a wince as he tightened the bandage. Alaric's hands were careful but firm, his touch lingering just long enough to ensure the wrapping was secure.
"There," he said quietly, sitting back on his heels as he surveyed his work. His face was still close to hers, his gaze locking onto hers for a moment longer than necessary. "It's not perfect, but it'll hold until we get back."
For a moment, the air between them seemed to shift, the tension from the battle replaced by something quieter, heavier. Lysandra's breath hitched slightly, though she quickly masked it with a sharp exhale. "You're lucky you're good at this," she muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Otherwise, I'd be kicking your ass right now."
Alaric's lips curved into a faint, lopsided grin. "Noted."
He lingered for a second longer before finally pulling back, his expression shifting back to one of quiet resolve. "We need to move soon," he said, his tone returning to its usual steadiness. "Those men could come back—or worse, whoever sent them."
Lysandra nodded, though the faint heat in her cheeks refused to fade as she pushed herself upright, biting back another curse at the pain in her shoulder. "Fine. But next time someone shoots an arrow at you, move. "
Alaric chuckled softly as he stood, extending a hand to help her up. "I'll try to remember that."
Lysandra staggered slightly as she stood, but Alaric was quick to steady her, his hand hovering near her uninjured side. She shot him a warning glare, clearly irritated by the gesture. "I can walk," she muttered, though her voice betrayed the strain she was trying to hide.
"I know you can," Alaric replied evenly, his hand dropping back to his side as he stepped ahead. "But if you need help, I am here...The horses aren't far."
She didn't respond, following him with slow, deliberate steps. Each movement sent a dull ache through her shoulder, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain. The forest around them was eerily quiet, the only sounds the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the faint rustling of branches above. Whatever ambushers had been left standing were long gone, but Lysandra couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes lingering around them.
They reached the small clearing where the horses were tethered to a low branch. The animals had calmed considerably, though their ears flicked nervously, still on edge from the earlier chaos. Alaric approached his mount first as he untied the reins.
"Think you can ride?" he asked, glancing back at her.
Lysandra scoffed, brushing past him to her own horse. "I've ridden through worse."
Alaric didn't argue, though he watched with concern as she mount her horse. She moved stiffly, clearly favoring her uninjured side, but she managed to swing into the saddle with practiced ease. The bandages he'd applied were already darkening with blood, but she ignored it, gripping the reins tightly.
"Let's get back," she said, her tone clipped. "The others need to know about the ambush."
Alaric mounted his own horse, guiding it alongside hers as they turned back toward the main road. The ride was slow, both of them keeping their senses sharp for any signs of movement in the forest. The tension between them was palpable, but neither spoke as the trees thinned and the familiar sound of the convoy came into earshot.
When they reached the group, the sight of them immediately drew attention. Roderic was the first to approach, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in Lysandra's pale face and the bloodstained bandages beneath her cloak.
"What the hell happened?" the Shadow Blades' captain demanded; his voice rough but tinged with concern.
"Ambush," Alaric said, moving toward the group. "A group of armed men waiting further up the trail. We fought them off, but they scattered before we could get any answers."
Roderic's gaze flicked to Lysandra, his expression darkening. "And you let yourself get hit?"
"I didn't 'let' anything happen," Lysandra snapped, sliding off her horse with a grimace. "It was either that or let the prince take an arrow to the face. I made a choice."
Roderic muttered something under his breath but nodded, clearly reserving his judgment for another time. "Did you see anything else? Any clues about who they were or what they wanted?"
Lysandra hesitated, her mind flashing back to the rune marking carved into the tree. But she shook her head, her expression unreadable. "Nothing that gave them away. They vanished as soon as they realized they'd failed at assassinating the prince."
Alaric, he turned back to the group of royal knights. "The road ahead isn't safe. We should move cautiously and stick together."
Roderic's expression darkened further, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed Lysandra's words. "Failed at assassinating the prince?" he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze shifted briefly to Alaric, then back to Lysandra.
He crossed his arms, the leather of his bracers creaking as his muscles tensed. "And you're telling me they just 'vanished'? No sign of who sent them, no markings, nothing?"
Lysandra held his gaze, her expression unyielding despite the pain radiating from her injured shoulder. "Nothing definitive," she said evenly, refusing to waver under his scrutiny. "They were skilled, organized. They didn't stick around long enough for questions."
Roderic's jaw tightened, a low growl of frustration escaping him. "Convenient, isn't it? That they'd take a shot at the prince and then scatter the moment it didn't work. Something doesn't sit right with this."
"Which is why we need to keep moving," Alaric interjected. His voice was firm, but there was a trace of urgency in his tone. "The longer we stay in one place, the more vulnerable we are. We need to regroup and focus on securing the convoy."
Roderic turned his sharp gaze to Alaric, studying him for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Fine. But this changes things. From now on, no one rides ahead alone."
Roderic turns his attention on Lysandra, "You need to rest. If you can't hold a blade, you're no good to us."
Lysandra scowled but didn't argue, letting Alaric guide her toward the rear of the group where the wagons were stationed. As they rode on, she kept her thoughts to herself, the memory of the rune burning in her mind. Whatever it meant.