Free Web NovelChapter 42: Chapter 42
They were a blur of dark fabric with how fast they moved.
Ragnar was momentarily caught off guard before he snapped into action. But those first few seconds he froze would later cost him. One of the intruders rushed at him, blade drawn. Ragnar veered away from the sword, dodging the first strike. He was currently unarmed so he immediately summoned his shadows. The action was sluggish, almost inexperienced the way the shadows were slow to respond to his call.
He stopped calling on his shadows when he joined the royal army in hopes that he wouldn’t be alienated by the other soldiers if he didn’t use his ability in front of them. But after years of ignoring that part of himself, even attempting to call on it now felt strange, like reaching for something distant and unfamiliar. Darkness slipped out of his hand, solidifying and taking the shape of a long sword.
His attacker swung his sword again and Ragnar parried the blow. He knew he wouldn’t win this fight if he remained on the defensive. He raised his sword and brought it down in a sharp arch. His opponent’s weapon went skidding to the ground. Ragnar slashed his sword down again and sliced open the attacker’s chest. Blood gushed out from the wound.
The man stumbled back.
Luria’s scream made Ragnar’s eyes snap in her direction. She had rolled off the bed and now laid on the floor. The second attacker was on top of her, pushing a knife into her chest.
Ragnar’s blood froze in his veins. He rushed at her attacker, blade poised to attack but the intruder had already leaped to his feet and was racing for the open balcony. He was too fast. He disappeared into the night before Ragnar couldn’t reach him.
When Ragnar looked around, he noticed the one he injured had vanished as well. He moved to run after them but Luria’s gasping breaths stopped him.
He dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he brushed her hair away from her face. Her skin had gone pale. Blood poured out of the stab wound, soaking her dress. It stained his hand and shirt red.
" Luria, I’m going to get help. I won’t let anything happen to you." His voice sounded strange. Tight and distant, like it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to speak complete sentences with the amount of panic coursing through his body.
His eyes locked onto the knife lodged in her chest, the familiar engraving on the hilt unmistakable. He’d recognize one of his blades anywhere. How had the intruders gotten hold of one of his hunting knives?
He scooped her into his arms, cradling her close. Luria’s body had gone completely limp in his arms. He felt it, felt her suck in her last intake of breath but his mind and thoughts were too scrambled to understand that the woman he was rocking in his arms and whispering reassurances to was no longer alive.
The bedroom doors suddenly swung open and five guards rushed inside at once.
Relief filled Ragnar’s chest at the sight of them. They had probably heard the commotion and came rushing to help.
Half of them paused at the sight in front of them and what they saw was Luria Tomar laying in a pool of her own blood, the hilt of Ragnar’s knife sticking out of her chest. It looked like a crime scene. With no one else there it looked like he stabbed her in the chest with his own knife.
" Help her, please." He begged. His vanity mirror must have shattered during the fight because glass shards littered the floor around him. He caught his reflection on one of the larger shards. His eyes had gone completely black.
One of the guards stepped forward and took Luria from his arms before turning and signaling something to the others.
Before Ragnar could fully grasp what was happening, the other guards tackled him to the ground and pinned him there. He offered little resistance as they yanked his arms behind his back. Shards of glass bit into his cheek when his face was shoved down, but none of it compared to the pain of seeing them carry away his wife’s body.
They bound his wrist with steel cuffs before forcing him back on his feet. A guard flanked him on both sides as they matched him out the bedroom door. Ragnar’s pulse jumped when he noticed the guard holding Luria was heading in the opposite direction from where they were taking him. freёwebnovel.com
"No, stop! Where is he taking her?" Ragnar’s voice cracked, laced with panic, but no one answered. His thoughts were frayed, unraveling. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was a sharp, hollow ache gnawing at his chest. The sight of her being carried away ripped something vital from him. He couldn’t be apart from her. Not now. Not like this.
He thrashed against the guards, fighting with wild frenzied desperation. Every muscle in his body strained as he tried to break free from their grip, from the steel cuffs digging into his wrists. His shadow twisted beneath his skin, writhing and hissing in protest, eager to be unleashed. He was losing control of himself, of the shadows, of his sanity.
The night had begun so perfectly, with warm smiles and soft glances. He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand how what was supposed to be a perfect night had somehow devolved into such madness and loss. Now it was all ruined, crumbling and spiraling into chaos and grief. How had everything gone so wrong so fast?
A sharp burst of agony tore through his side as one of the guards drew back his fist and slammed it into Ragnar’s ribs. He choked out a gasp, the pain white-hot and blinding. His knees buckled, but still he fought, the only thing anchoring him being the image of her face and the burning need to reach her.
