Lydia

"Kill him then return to me!" King Titus yelled furiously.

Lydia could only watch in paralyzed horror as a dozen men stormed towards Wilder. Too many, there were too many. She knew Wilder could fight but not this many. She saw as he swung towards his first opponent but that's all she glimpsed before the two soldiers gripping her arms dragged her down another corridor behind King Titus.

Lydia had to get free, she had to help Wilder. She had to do something! That single thought broke through her paralysis. She jerked her arm, trying to free herself. The soldier merely glared at her and shifted his hold to her upper arm. That was all Lydia needed.

Bending her elbow at an awkward angle, she managed to tease one of the stiletto blades out of her tunic. She stabbed the soldier's hand who held her forearm. He cried out and released her. She quickly tugged out another blade and buried it in her other captor's bicep. He swore as Lydia fled.

She raced back to the corridor where Wilder was. He needed help. She needed to help him. But as she reached the archway a single thought struck her. He couldn't protect himself if he was trying to protect her. Lydia stuttered then changed directions.

"Get her!" Titus shouted.

Lydia saw the fury on the two soldiers' faces as they came at her, swords drawn. Lydia sprinted down a corridor then ducked into another. Turn after turn, she flew through the hallways she knew better than any. How many times had she performed this same disappearing act to the annoyance of those seeking her? Her feet knew where to go even before her mind had made the decision.

She thought of the stables, the safety of them, the chance to find a horse and run away. Run away...To where? Where would she go? This was where she'd grown up. A place she had returned to in order to reclaim it. To steal it back from a King who'd stolen it from her. She couldn't run, she had to fight.

But how? She'd lost her sword. And these soldiers were battle experienced whereas she was training yard practiced. She would not survive. Not if she faced them head on. But this was her palace. She knew it like no other.

Lydia slowed to a halt.

She stared at the doors leading to the stables, the promise of escape waiting just beyond. She could leave, flee once again. But then what would the alliance, the lives given here be worth? This battle needed to end. She needed to see King Titus fall.

Bottling up the fear that rose inside her, Lydia turned away.

She ran back down the corridor, searching for the sound of footsteps. Only two soldiers had been with King Titus, the rest having gone to attack Wilder. If she could get passed or get those two soldiers out of the way, she could face the King. But how? He was bigger, stronger, faster than her?

When Lydia heard footsteps, she peeked around a corner. Further down, peering into one of the rooms along the hall was one of their soldiers. Lydia pulled back and gazed around. She heard Wilder's voice in her head drilling strategy of how to use her surroundings, how to wound an opponent to gain an advantage, how to inflict fatal wounds. With his voice in her head, she knew what to do.

When she spotted an alcove, she darted to it and crouched down. Across the way lay a line of archways obscured by gauzy curtains that gently swayed with a breeze from outside. The rhythmic movement contrasted Lydia's frantic heartbeat. Blood thundered in her ears and she kept trying to force down her terror.

But as she stared at the curtains she remembered the flowing dresses her mother wore and how even in the most distressing situations her mother remained calm. Lydia clung to the ghost of her mother, needing her strength. 

Steeling herself, she took one of the blades from her tunic and winged it at the far wall. It pinged off the stone and rattled across the floor. A second later, Lydia heard the approach of footsteps. She breathed in and out slowly even as her pulse doubled. Removing two more blades, she waited, staying hunched in the alcove, willing the shadows to conceal her for long enough.

When the soldier walked into view, Lydia stopped breathing. He seemed taller than before, his shoulders broader. How could he become a giant in mere moments?

Focus, Lydia. Do this, do this now!

As the soldier bent over to pick up the blade, Lydia launched out of her hiding spot. She buried her first blade into his thigh, eliciting a sharp cry as his leg buckled and drove the next one into his throat. He made a horrible gurgling sound as blood burst from the wound. He coughed and blood-splattered Lydia on her tunic. She pressed her lips closed, trying not to gag as tears blurred her vision.

At the shout of a name, Lydia unfroze. She wrenched the sword from the soldier's dead grasp and ran to the gauzy curtains. She slipped behind one and put her back to the curve of the wall, waiting. She tried not to think of the last time she'd hidden in a spot like this. The moment she'd had with Wilder. Before everything had gone wrong, so wrong. And now Wilder was...

Lydia squeezed the sword's hilt with both hands, to keep her in the present and keep her hands from trembling. She ran through the places to stab a body, willing the knowledge to give her courage. Pounding footsteps bounced off the walls and Lydia sucked in a shaky breath. Her heart banged against her ribs and she feared the soldier would hear it. Too loud, her heart beat too loud.

The soldier tore down the hall, stopping before his companion. Before he even lifted his head from the sight, Lydia attacked. She dashed forward and as the soldier turned thrust the sword into his ribs. He gave such a heart-shattering scream, Lydia shook with the horror of what she'd had to do.

The soldier fell to the floor and Lydia choked on a sob as she stared at his lifeless body. He looked younger than Lydia expected. Almost the same age as Corwin. He was a soldier like the ones who'd died for Lydia in Loria. Or like Wilder. He had only been doing as he was ordered. Like the ones attacking Wilder...

Hearing more footsteps, Lydia shoved her emotions away. She removed the sword from the soldier's body, trying to ignore the sickening sound it made or the way the blood beaded on the tip and dripped into the tiled floor, staining it. She walked back to her hiding spot leaving a trail of droplets to follow.

After leaning the sword on the wall, Lydia quickly took the second soldier's sword and moved further down the corridor, in the direction the two soldiers had come and the direction she heard the footsteps coming.

A few archways down, she tucked herself again into the opening to wait. She blinked, tears spilling free without her realizing they were there. So much death, too much. She wanted it to end.

The footsteps that approached were slower than the soldier's. They were calm, calculating, controlled.

Without having to look, Lydia knew King Titus was the one drawing closer. There was only one set of footsteps. He was alone. Wilder must have killed the other men. He must be-

The footsteps slowed then stopped and Lydia froze. She didn't breathe, scared he would hear it in the stillness. She plastered herself to the wall, hating how her body trembled.

"Do you know why I chose to let you live?" King Titus said, starting to walk again, his pace as even as before.

Lydia gripped the hilt. Let her live? He hadn't meant for her to die with her family? Flashes of the night came back to Lydia, a man trying to grab her. In the palace ruins the riders attempting to capture her, not kill her.

"Yes, child," Titus said as if hearing her thoughts. "I never wanted you killed. I planned all along for you to be my pawn."

He reached her archway and Lydia felt her heart stop beating. She couldn't meet him head on. He would destroy her. She couldn't run, he'd catch her. Trapped, she was completely trapped. Why hadn't she escaped when she had the chance? There was no escaping this fate!

But Titus didn't stop.

He kept walking, heading for the archway the blood led to.

Lydia still couldn't let out a breath, knowing if she did she would crumple.

"I chose you," Titus said, conversationally. "Because you are known to be free-spirited and wild. Those qualities might seem like ones that couldn't be controlled. But you were that way because you were safe. Take away the foundation of a weak house and it will collapse. Without your family, I knew you'd be nothing."

She'd meant to live, all this time she'd wanted to be with her family but she was always meant to live without them. Because of this greedy bastard!

Lydia stopped shaking as a calm washed over her. She no longer shied away from the thought of what pain she could inflict. There was not enough pain to be dealt to this man. A fire flared inside her, consuming her thoughts, searing through her body.

She slipped from her hiding spot towards King Titus, her steps hidden beneath the sound of his. He kept talking but Lydia heard none of it, blood roared in her ears and coursed through her with such force she felt like a tidal wave gathering together, ready to crash the beach.

The edges of her vision narrowed to that single man, the one who'd taken everything from her. Her father. Her mother. Her brothers. Her sister. Their blood was on his hands as surely as if he'd wielded the sword that cut them down.

Right behind him, Lydia took one of her stiletto knives and jabbed it into his arm. He howled and spun around, but Lydia danced back a step and ducked under his blade. Like a viper, she lunged forward and lodged a second knife into his leg.

Roaring, Titus attacked her. But with him weakened, Lydia knew she could fight him. And she wanted to fight him. She wanted to cut away pieces of him until the walls and floor were painted with his blood.

The knives did their work and even with the heavier sword, Lydia fended off Titus' advances while delivering more cuts of her own. Over and over Titus tried to get under Lydia's guard but she beat him back until finally, he faltered. His leg failed him and he hit the floor.

Lydia whipped her blade around his, breaking his hold on his sword. The blade skittered across the floor and Titus knelt before Lydia, completely vulnerable.

She pushed the tip of her sword into his chest and he flinched. He held her gaze, not showing remorse or a wish for mercy.

His life would be on Lydia's hands.

His death would be her doing.

One life for the many he'd taken.

She leaned forward, the blade piercing his skin. She knew now the exact force it would take to send the blade into his heart. Knew the amount of blood that would pool beneath his lifeless body.

She knew because she'd watched her family die. She'd seen the red stains as they spread outward. She'd watched how the blood leaving them took with them the light in their eyes. She'd seen it all. One by one her family murdered.

And now she could have her vengeance on the one man responsible. His death for their lives.

Their lives...

Their lives were gone. Over.

His death would mean nothing. His death wouldn't bring back her family. His death would be on her hands but for what? They were never coming back. Her family...

The fire extinguished inside Lydia.

They were gone...They were never coming back....She was truly an orphan.

Staring at Titus, she no longer saw a way to repay for all the pain. She still felt the pain. She still would when he was gone.

Raising the sword, she turned it and smashed the side of the blade against his head. He slumped, unconscious.

Lydia opened her hand and the sword clattered to the floor. She blinked and tears fell. Gone. They were gone. Even the ghosts of her family Lydia had felt when she first entered the palace were no longer there.

She stood there feeling the absolute stillness and emptiness around her. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed to even breathe.

She was utterly alone.

**********************************************************************

YES! That's how it feels!

(Technically, still Disney so I feel like I can get away with this)

Bittersweet, that is the word that comes to mind with this chapter. Our girl crushed it, but was all crushed in the moment. Thoughts? Emotions? Devotions? Explosions? 👑⚔️🛡

For me this chapter took me by surprise, I didn't see how much of an impact each action would have on Lydia. I saw her being strong, fierce. Which, granted, she is. But she'd not cold hearted, each death means something to do her and I didn't expect that.

Neither did I see the moment with King Titus and realizing how in the end his death wouldn't undo the damage he'd done. And how once again she hits another layer of grief.

Oh jeez this book is sooooooo depressing! Why did I ever start it?!

Oh that's right because I wanted to write an epic revolution story and then my characters tied me up, put me in the brig, and took control of the ship. Forgot about that part.

How many of you want to jump into this story and give Lydia a hug:

Yes please! My girl is in pain and needs me!

Nah, I'd rather have some dashing prince come and hug her...hint hint Joy.

Joy! I need the hug from the way you've played with my heart!

Well here you go, here is your hug (>^^)>

Vote, comment, follow!

REAL QUICK! The next chapter is the final chapter (yes, breathe) But it's broken into parts. Since I want you to get a sweeping sense of it I'm going to have emojis where you can comment at the end of the chapter but say my final author's note for the whole progression will be in last part.

(I hope that makes sense)

So be aware of which part you click on when I upload next week, make sure it's says Chapter 42 (Pt 1) at the top.

Dang right! 👏👏👏