Chapter 60: Hide, Fight, Survive

Chapter 60: Hide, Fight, Survive My face was pressed against something rough and scratchy—like old leather. My tiny arms flailed, but the man carrying me only tightened his grip. "Stop squirming, you little rat!" he growled, his breath hot and sour near my ear. I couldn’t scream. My mouth was covered by something—a rough hand, maybe? It smelled like blood and ash. My eyes burned. They were running. "Run faster! You bastard! We can’t fail!" one of them growled. Boots slammed against the marble floor. I could feel every jolt and shift as the man carrying me dashed down hallway after hallway, twisting and turning through corridors I felt like I didn’t recognize. "This way!" one of them barked. "The east wing passage leads straight to the garden wall." "The patrol’s tighter near the wall, you idiot!" another snapped back. "We’ll be surrounded if we go there." "Then we hold them off. The brat’s the only leverage we’ve got!" My heart thundered so hard it hurt. I wanted to scream. I wanted Papa. The palace that once felt like a dream had become a nightmare. Everything blurred. Lamps flickered past. Drapes flew in their wake. Paintings dissolved into smudges of gold and oil. "Didn’t think the Emperor’s dog would react that fast—who tipped him off?" "Forget that. Just MOVE!" After living a quiet, peaceful life in this palace... how could I forget? I am the only daughter of a tyrant-emperor. His weakness. A threat. The one thing in this empire they all want to test. I was lucky the last time—when assassins came for me in the nursery. Papa saved me. But that doesn’t mean I’m invincible. Just because I didn’t die then... doesn’t mean I can’t now. For four years, I lived the life I once begged for in my previous life as Reina Suzuki. A father who loved me. A palace where I belonged. People who smiled when they saw me. If I die now... Papa will lose his mind. He’ll become the monster everyone thinks he already is. He’ll destroy everything. Nanny will fall into another pit of despair. Marella, Theon, Ravick... they’ll cry. No one will be left to tease Osric. Marshi will be left masterless. And Grandpa Gregor and my elf grandpa—they will be heartbroken. No... I can’t die like this. "That’s the exit; run fast!" one of them hissed. I clenched my tiny teeth. I couldn’t wait for someone to save me. I have to protect myself. So—BITE! "ARGH—!" The man cried out, yanking his hand away. "That little rat bit my finger!" His grip loosened, and I didn’t think—I jumped. Hit the ground. Rolled. My knees scraped. My palms burned, and yet I ran. "Ugh, she got away!" "Hey—she’s getting away! Just catch her!" I ran. Kept running. I shouldn’t have left Ravick’s or Papa’s side. If they were here, they’d kill these men in one blow. "She’s just a kid—she can’t go far!" one of them shouted behind me. Don’t look back, Lavi. Run! RUN! I can feel their hands reaching for me again. I’m not strong yet. This is unfair—completely unfair! Then—suddenly—I felt a hand reaching for my shoulder— No. No, I can’t be caught! Someone—SAVE ME! And then— "Aaagh!" A cry of pain. A small knife whizzed past me—hitting the hand that was about to grab me. Blood splattered. "Huh?" I turned, just in time to hear— "LAVI!" Huh!? There—at the end of the hallway—stood Osric. His eyes were blazing. His small fists clenched. He was only eleven, but the fury radiating off him felt like fire. "LAVI! COME HERE! FAST!" I didn’t know if Osric could save me. Maybe we’d both end up in danger. Maybe this was foolish. But I didn’t care. Because right now—right this second—he was my safe place. And I ran to him. My legs were trembling, scraped, and bleeding from when I fell earlier, but I didn’t stop. I threw myself into his arms, and the moment our hands met, he grabbed mine tightly—like he would never let go. "We have to move," he said, his voice low and steady, almost too steady for a boy his age. "They’re right behind you." I nodded. There was no time to be a scared little princess. No time to cry. We had to survive until someone found us. So we ran. Bolted down the marble corridors, the sound of our footsteps ringing like drums of war behind us. Shouts echoed down the halls. Footsteps thundered, growing louder. "Osric," I panted, lungs burning, "do you even know where we’re going?" He didn’t look back. "Yes." "Really?!" "...Not exactly! Just trust me, Lavi! I’ll get us out!" Trust him? I already did. We burst through a side door into the open gardens, the cold night air slapping my face like a wake-up call. Moonlight spilled over the hedges and statues, making every shadow feel like a lurking monster. "There!" Osric yanked me toward a thick bush near the stone wall. We dove behind it, crouching low. Leaves clawed at my skin. I barely noticed. "Let’s stay here," he whispered, his breath heaving. "Just until someone finds us." I nodded, gripping his hand tighter. The information must’ve reached Papa by now. He must know. He has to be searching for me. So until then... we just had to wait. And then— I heard them. The assassins. Getting closer. Their voices were sharp, harsh, and cruel. "She bit me, that little brat!" "She was with someone. Another kid. Find them!" "We should’ve just killed her when we had the chance—" "Shut up. She’s worth more alive. Search every corner." I curled into myself, heart racing so violently I thought it might rip through my chest. I clutched Osric’s hand like it was the last thing tethering me to life. He turned to me then—not like a frightened boy, but like a knight. "I won’t let them touch you again," he whispered. "I swear it. On my name. On my blood." Tears burned behind my eyes. I wanted to believe him. I did. But we were just two children. Hiding in the dark. Hoping the world wouldn’t see us. Please, Papa... please find us. And then— "FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE BRATS!" A shadow tore through the bush, leaves scattering as a man lunged toward us with a wicked grin. His dagger gleamed under the moonlight. Osric stood up and threw his arms in front of me. "Don’t touch her!" The assassin scoffed. "What are you gonna do, kid? Cry on me?" He reached for us. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. My eyes widened with shock. And then—a flash of silver answered. "Huh?" The man froze. His eyes widened. He choked. A sickening sound—like wet cloth tearing. Blood burst from his mouth as he dropped to his knees. Behind him, silent as a specter—stood Ravick. His sword was buried deep in the assassin’s back, blood dripping along the cold, glinting steel. "You picked the wrong person to hunt," Ravick said, voice flat, lethal. The man collapsed, twitching once before going still. Ravick stepped over the corpse, eyes sharp and assessing. Then he looked at me and then knelt right in front of me. He bowed his head. "Forgive me, Princess. I was late." "R-Ravick..." My voice cracked. I stumbled forward and threw my arms around him. "Shhh..." he murmured, gently steadying me with one hand. "You’re safe now, my princess. I’ve got you." He looked past me, toward Osric, and gave a single nod of respect. "Can I trust you to keep protecting her for a bit longer, young master?" Osric stood straighter, face fierce. "I won’t let anything happen to her." Ravick gave him a small smile. "Good. Then—please. Close your eyes." He turned his gaze back toward the garden path. "This won’t take long." I nodded, trembling, and stood beside Osric, holding his hand again. Together, we closed our eyes. And then, all I could hear was— CLANG! A scream tore through the night. "AAGHHH!" "UGH—!" A sickening splash followed. Wet. Final. "H-Have mercy! We were just ordered to—" But Ravick didn’t let them finish. SPURT! "GAAH—!" I squeezed Osric’s hand harder. He didn’t flinch. He stood tall, like a soldier. Then silence. Only the sound of wind brushing through the garden hedges. Only the soft drip... drip... of something hitting the stone. "It’s done, my princess." Ravick’s voice was calm. Steady. Just as always. I opened my eyes slowly. And saw him. Ravick, the Black Knight, standing there like a ghost born of war. His cloak was soaked. Blood painted his arms, splattered across his chest and face. Blood dripped from the edge of his sword, pooling at his boots. He looked like a nightmare. I knew he was dangerous—like Papa. I’d always known. But I had never seen him like this before. Yet... I didn’t flinch. I didn’t step back. Because to me—even drenched in blood, even with death clinging to him like a second skin—He looked like salvation.