The first arrow hit so close to Xue's head that she felt the wind of it against her cheek before it punched into the carriage door. For one frozen second, she stared at the black shaft vibrating inches from her face, her mind refusing to process what it meant. Then the reinforced glass beside her exploded into a web of silver cracks, her father's paranoid gift from the northern glassmakers finally proving its worth.
But not for long.
The second arrow shattered through the weakened window, followed immediately by a third that buried itself deep in the velvet seat where Min had been sitting just moments before. The wet sound it made, like steel biting into fruit, sent ice through Xue's veins.
The driver's scream cut through the evening air like a blade. The carriage lurched violently sideways as the horses panicked, wheels grinding against stone with a sound that set her teeth on edge. She could hear hoofbeats thundering away into the distance, their escort scattering or already dead.
Blood was everywhere. It splattered across the polished wood panels in dark streaks, dripped from the arrow embedded in the seat, and painted abstract patterns that her shocked mind kept trying to make sense of. The metallic smell filled the small space, mixing with the scent of splintered wood and torn leather.
Min threw herself backward, silk sleeves fluttering as her hands flew up to protect her face. Glass fragments rained down like deadly snow, each piece catching the dying sunlight as wind rushed through the breach. Outside, birds shrieked in panic, sharp, terrified calls of sparrows fleeing the violence below.
The carriage door exploded inward.
A figure flowed inside, like a living shadow, wearing black robes that seemed to swallow light, an empty hood where a face should be, and a curved sword that gleamed with a blue and oily hue along its edge. Poison. Xue barely had time to grab Min's sleeve before her maid vanished through the opposite door in a flutter of silk and bare feet.
"Mistress!" Pei's scream pierced the chaos. The young girl had pressed herself into the far corner, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. All the color had drained from her face, leaving her lips white as bone. Through the destroyed window, Xue could see their guards fighting desperately, three men against what looked like dozens of attackers in black.
The guard staggered as a spearpoint bloomed between his shoulder blades. He fell forward, arms reaching out uselessly, before crashing into the roadside ditch with a wet thud. Another lost his helmet to a sword strike, revealing bright red hair that caught the light for just an instant before darkness claimed him too.
"We have to run," Pei whispered, her voice barely audible above the sounds of men dying. Please, mistress, we have to run.
Xue forced herself to move. Her legs felt like water, but she pushed up from the seat. Sharp gravel bit through her silk slippers the moment she stepped outside, each stone like a tiny knife against her feet. She avoided the arrow jutting from the door panel—no point in getting caught in it now.
Footsteps followed her. Too light for a soldier. Too fast for someone wounded. She didn't look back.
Her ceremonial robes caught on the broken wheel rim as she tried to run, the expensive fabric tearing with a sound that somehow seemed louder than the surrounding battle. Cold air hit her exposed leg, and for a wild moment, she thought the tear had gone all the way through to her skin.
The pine trees ahead looked like salvation, dark trunks and deeper shadows that promised somewhere to hide. She stumbled toward them, lifting her skirts with both hands, not caring about dignity anymore.
A figure stepped out from between the trees.
This one differed from the others. Taller. More controlled. He'd pushed back his hood, revealing a face painted stark white like a funeral mask. Black triangles marked the hollows under his eyes, and dried blood seemed to smear his mouth. The curved sword in his hand caught the last rays of sunlight as he raised it to her throat.
Behind her, the screaming had stopped. The sudden silence was worse than the noise had been.
Her father's voice echoed in her memory, as clear as if he were standing beside her: "If you must die, do it with the eyes of the world upon you."
Xue straightened her spine despite the blade kissing her throat. She pulled up that distant smile that had once made provincial lords stumble over their words. "You've got the wrong princess," she said, then spat at his feet.
The assassin's blade flashed upward, slicing through a lock of her hair. The severed strands drifted down like black snow as he lunged forward.
Xue dropped to the ground, rolling sideways as gravel tore at her palms. The sword screamed past her head and slammed into the carriage wall with enough force to bury itself to the hilt.
She scrambled under the carriage, gasping in the sudden shadows. Above her, arrows continued to rain down, punching through wood and leather with sharp cracks that let thin beams of golden light dance through the darkness.
When she crawled out the other side, she ran for the trees without looking back. Her torn robes slapped against her legs as the forest seemed to stretch away from her, the trunks growing wider, the path longer, like something out of a fever dream.
She tripped over a root and hit the ground hard, her cheek scraping against stone. The sharp pain cut through the haze of terror, bringing everything into sudden, crystal-clear focus. When she rolled over to face her attackers, she could taste blood in her mouth.
Ravens circled overhead, their black forms stark against the dying light. In the shadows between the trees, she thought she saw another figure on horseback, distant, wavering, almost familiar. For one impossible moment, her heart clenched with the thought that it might be her father, somehow returned from the dead to witness her last moments.
The wind picked up, carrying the smell of blood and steel so thick she could taste metal on her tongue.
The assassins moved closer, their boots whispering against the pine needles with predatory silence.
Xue's mind raced through her options. Running would get her an arrow in the back before she made it ten steps. Fighting was impossible; her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold on to the sharp stone she'd grabbed from the ground.
Then the sound of hoofbeats cut through the evening air like a blade, fast, heavy, purposeful. Something else, a low, rumbling sound like a forge breathing that seemed to vibrate in her bones, followed them.
Every assassin froze. Heads snapped toward the road.
Through the dark spaces between the tree trunks, a figure appeared. A man on a massive black horse, both of them moving like they were part of the same creature. The horse's mane and tail whipped in the wind like torn battle flags. The rider's armor was so black it seemed to drink the surrounding light, leaving only the deep red of his cape visible as it snapped behind him like fire.
A silver mask concealed his face, horned like a demon, with narrow eye slits that showed nothing of what was underneath.
The sky above the road had turned black with ravens, hundreds of them wheeling in complex patterns that hurt to watch.
On the road below, the assassins had formed a circle around the last surviving guard. Though wounded, with his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, the man stood with his back pressed against the carriage wheel, daring them to come closer.
The maidservants were gone. Either fled or already dead.
No banner flew from the newcomer's lance, but everyone present recognized the symbol on his shield, a single, staring eye surrounded by naked blades. The Demon General's mark. Even the tavern songs spoke of it in whispers.
He guided his mount to a stop beside the wrecked carriage. The silence that followed was so complete that even the ravens stopped their cries and scattered into the growing darkness. The assassins stood frozen, caught between the urge to kneel and the instinct to run.
The general leaned forward in his saddle. Leather creaked. Metal rang softly against metal. His stillness had the quality of a hunting cat watching prey, patient, deadly, absolutely certain of what would come next.
One assassin broke first. He rushed forward with desperate courage, weapon raised.
The general's hand moved faster than human eyes could follow. There was a sound like dry wood snapping. The attacker's wrist bent at an impossible angle, his arm falling limp and useless. The general released him almost gently, and the man collapsed, groaning in the dirt.
Xue's breath came in quick gasps. Her fingers dug into the earth beneath her, painting her palms with mud and blood. She watched through the gathering darkness, waiting, knowing with absolute certainty that whatever happened next would change everything.
The sun touched the horizon, painting the silver mask and red cape with fire. The forest shadows stretched long fingers across the battlefield, and every sound seemed amplified, heartbeats like drums, whispered breaths like wind through temple bells.
The carriage, the forest, the remaining assassins, everything held its breath.
The Demon General sat motionless in his saddle, waiting with the patience of death itself.
And Xue realized, with a clarity that cut through her terror like a blade, that this wasn't an ending at all. This was only the beginning.