Haven: Chronicles of Warshard (18 page)

“Stop!” she screamed. “Please! Don’t do this!” She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d trained so hard to protect herself and here she was, useless again. The last thing she ever wanted was to get pregnant, to be raped and bear a child from such an
atrocity.

Every touch, every grab and pull at her body brought more tears to her eyes. Haven continuously tried to fight him off, begging him to stop touching
her.

“Please, stop this,” she
begged.

He sat up, straddling her hips. Gazing over her body like she was a piece of meat, he bent and ripped her shirt open. While her arms were free, she squirmed violently to her right. The only ground she gained was putting herself on her stomach, closer to the edge of the bed. He groped her and kissed her bare back. Haven tried with all of her strength to pull herself to the edge of the
bed.

“Please stop,” she
whispered.

“I have my orders,” he mumbled against her
skin.

Haven pulled herself away again, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision. She had to get away; she had to make him stop touching her. Every part of her felt violated, dirty and wrong. He began to pull at the waist of her trousers. “No!” she cried, digging her nails into the silk of the bed. “Do not touch me!” she
hissed.

“I have my
orders.”

He yanked again. “Stop!” she screamed. Haven pulled forward again. Her hand met air. She was at the edge of the bed. Only a little further. “Please, stop this!” she begged, pulling herself forward. Hearing the fumble of his belt, she almost stopped in her sudden panic. While he was distracted, she searched beneath the
mattress.

“I have my orders,” he
said.

Haven’s fingers wrapped around her makeshift weapon. The man suddenly flipped her onto her back. Before he could go any further Haven let out a battle cry and stabbed him in the throat. Blood surged from the wound, dousing her in blood. He gurgled and fell to her right. Haven squirmed out from under him and collapsed onto the floor. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she tried to regain her wits. She shivered over and over while pulling herself along the floor to the opposite wall. Tears dripped down her cheeks and onto her chest, leaving long track marks over her
skin.

Haven cried into her hands for some time before the shivering stopped and she gradually returned to her own mind. Taking deep breaths, Haven pulled her clothes back on. Every piece of her felt wrong. She felt uncomfortable just being in her own
skin.

“You can survive anything,” she murmured to herself, recalling the words she’d used after Kadia had tortured her with knives. “You will survive this,” she repeated it over and over until she felt she could
move.

Standing, Haven decided what she had to do. Moving over to the dead body in her bed, she pulled the paintbrush from his neck. She wiped some of the blood from her hands, and proceeded to the door. She knocked
quietly.

“Hello?” she said. “I need your help in
here.”

Moving back behind the door, Haven waited. A moment passed before she heard the clicks of the door being unlocked. A man stepped
in.

“Lady Queen?” he
asked.

Haven leaped from behind and stabbed the wood into his neck, just like she had with the other. This time the blood spurted forth and the man grabbed at the wound. Haven kicked him from behind, and he landed face first. Pulling his sword from its sheath, Haven drove the blade through his
back.

“You can survive anything.” Haven repeated. “You will survive
this.”

She continued her mantra while she fled the room. In bare feet, she made her way swiftly through the halls, trying to remember the way to the
stairs.

“Queen Haven has
escaped!”

The words echoed throughout the castle. Haven stopped in her tracks, looking back the way she’d come. The jig was up. She had to get out, and get out now. Looking for the quickest route out of the castle, Haven ran down a long hall with a stained glass window at its end. Two feral cats circled each other in glass, orange fur brilliant in the evening sun. Haven ran toward the cats. Beyond the glass were the plains, the sand and the sea. Her feet slapped against the marble floors as she went. She heard shouts from
behind.

“You can survive anything. You will survive this,” she muttered, covering her
face.

Haven dove through the
glass.

CHAPTER 18

Y
ou can survive anything. You will survive
this.

Those words echoed through her mind as Haven awoke in
agony.

Crying out, Haven turned onto her side. Her legs were broken and at least one of her arms was out of place. Glass pierced her body every which way. She screamed, turning onto her back again. She breathed heavily, the haze clearing from her
mind.

She heard voices overhead. She had to move. Haven sat up and grit her teeth as she pulled a piece of orange glass from her shoulder. She reset her arm. Hissing in pain, Haven struggled to remain conscious. She repeated her mantra aloud, pulling her legs in front of her. The bone protruded from her left thigh. She pushed it back into place. Blackness danced at the edge of her vision. She pulled a piece of glass from her other leg, and twisted her bone back into
place.

For a moment she lost consciousness, lying in the grass in complete agony. Shouts from the castle woke her. Haven sat up quickly, pulling a large shard from her stomach. She cried out time after time, pulling the glass from her arms as she rose. She had to get moving. There was no telling how much time she had already
wasted.

“Get to the tunnel,” she murmured. “Just get to the
tunnel.”

Exhaustion washed through her, but she limped up the small rise and onto the plains. With her constant movement it was difficult to pull the glass from her body, but at least her legs improved as she went. Before she was halfway to the beach she was running, ignoring the sting of pain as she moved her arms along with
her.

“Get to the tunnel. You can
do this
!” she shouted into the
wind.

Yanking another piece of glass from her arm, the small dark wood building came into sight atop the sand. She silently cheered, a grin spreading over her
face.

Just then she heard a scream from the castle. Faulting mid step, Haven caught herself before she crashed to the ground. Turning, she could make out Kadia standing in the window from which she’d jumped. Her screams carried over the
wind.

“Haven!” Kadia was furious. “If you leave now I will find and kill everyone you
love!”

Pausing, Haven watched as darkness spilled from the window. She didn’t have time to stay and listen to idle threats. If those shadows got to her, she was as good as dead. Turning back to the sea Haven ran as fast as her legs would carry
her.

“Haven!” Kadia screamed again, but her voice was growing distant. Soon she could hear her name being called from ahead. She looked up to see the doors of the small building open, and out poured her three guard girls. Tears sprung to her eyes. Her adrenaline pushed her over the plains and onto the path in the
sand.

“Haven!” Lareina, Malka and Blythe called, running toward her. Behind them emerged Prince Emeril, King Corrin, and several soldiers from Rythern, Wakefin and
Salander.

The young queen almost collapsed in relief right then and there, but knew she had to keep going in order for them all to
escape.

“Haven, watch out!” Blythe
yelled.

Haven turned just in time to see a shadow mass behind her. It grabbed her by the ankle and threw her into the air. She landed several feet away in a daze. Her grip on the sword did not waver, and she was glad for such a fact when a dark soldier came at her with his
blade.

Blocking the attack, Haven pushed him away and jumped to her feet. Several soldiers surrounded her, as well as her friends. Rage pulsed inside her chest like a hurricane. Haven lunged into battle, letting her adrenaline fuel her as she swiped, slashed and drove her blade through the darkness. Soon she was fighting alongside her guards, a deep relief settling inside her. Familiar movements guided her. She protected her friends as best she could, especially Blythe who wielded her sword with her left hand. The soldiers, king, prince and her ladies destroyed man after man, but still, the darkness amassed before
them.

“It’s no use!” Malka called, shooting arrows from the building’s
door.

“We have to retreat!” Blythe called
back.

Haven had to agree, but she kept swiping. Anger like none other had filled her. She was angry with Kadia for so much. The torture she’d put her through, every stab, every burn, every poke and prod. The rape she’d nearly been subjected to, and the continuous outpouring of psychological pain. Haven fought until she could barely breathe, could barely swing. She would not let a single one of these things touch
her.

Suddenly an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. Haven nearly screamed, whipping around. When she faced Corrin’s worried eyes, she lowered her blade. “Do not touch me,” she begged, eyes wide. She blinked back tears. Everything flooded her suddenly. “Do not touch me,” she whispered, her blade clattering to the
ground.

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching for her again. Haven recoiled. “Very well, I won’t touch you, but you need to come with me.” After a moment, Haven nodded. “Follow me,” he said, leading her into the building. Malka moved to the side, shooting arrow after arrow into the
fray.

“Let’s go!” Malka
shouted.

Moments later, everyone flooded in behind them and the doors were closed. Darkness consumed the group until a torch was lit. Haven listened as thuds sounded above them. Stairs drove them down into the earth, circling so tightly that she grew dizzy
quickly.

“Careful, you’ll eventually get used to it,” Corrin flashed a smile back at
her.

Haven continued, trying to clear her mind of all the panic inside her. Her emotions pulled her in every direction. Joy over seeing everyone alive. Relief at escaping Kadia’s grasp. Pain from things that had happened. Sadness at having rejected Corrin. Anger over the things Kadia had done, and above all else, panic at having to feel all of these things at
once.

Hours passed as they moved down the never-ending spiral. They’d gone so deep that Haven couldn’t imagine how thin the air must be. Her body and mind were growing tired, and she grew clumsy the further they
went.

“We’re almost there,” Emeril said from up
ahead.

Haven remained quiet, as did most of the others. Minutes later, they hit ground. Her guards ushered her into a small camp they had set up. A fire was lit and Haven slid down the wall, sitting heavily on the
ground.

“Haven, we’re so glad you’re okay.” Lareina knelt nearby and reached for her
friend.

Haven recoiled and held her hands out defensively. “Please do not touch me,” she
breathed.

Shadows from the fire danced along the walls. Haven watched them move across Lareina’s face as she sat back, worry creasing her brows. “We wouldn’t hurt you, Haven,” she said, but Haven just shook her head and hugged her knees to her chest, shivering. It was cold this far in the earth. She hadn’t noticed it so much while they moved, but now that they had stopped, the cold wall on her back felt as if it were a slab of ice. “Get the queen a blanket,” Lareina told a guard nearby, who nodded and disappeared further into the tunnel. “What happened in there? It’s been
weeks.”

Haven shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it, only forget. If she thought about it, she might break down. She didn’t want that happening in front of everyone. “Why did you all stay?” she asked through chattering
teeth.

“As if we were going to leave you behind,” Blythe scoffed, leaning against the wall. Though she appeared nonchalant, Haven could feel her worried
gaze.

“You should
have.”

“Haven, you’re covered in blood,” Emeril gasped. He stood at the other side of the small fire, his eyes glued to her clothes. Peering down at herself, Haven started. Her shirt and pants bore not only her own blood, but that of the two men she’d killed in her escape. They hadn’t known better, they were under a spell, but in her desperation Haven had seen no other way. Shame filled
her.

“It’s not all mine,” she said, running a hand through her hair. Her fingers stuck in a braid Kadia had made. She quickly pulled it out, her fingers trembling violently as she did so. She was just so
cold.

“Not all?” Lareina asked, reaching for her queen
again.

Haven froze. “Do not touch me,” she shook her head, shifting away from Lareina. “Do
not
touch
me.”

“Okay,” Lareina backed off. “It isn’t all your blood? But some
is?”

Haven nodded, feeling her hair to make sure no other braids
remained.

“Did they hurt you in
there?”

Haven froze, and nodded slowly, working another braid from her
hair.

“What
happened?”

Haven shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about
it.”

“But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what happened,” she insisted. “We’re all here for you, Haven. We’re your friends.” Haven just shook her head and buried her head against her knees. A moment later someone gently laid a blanket around her shoulders. She pulled it around her tightly, willing the shaking in her bones to
stop.

“You should move closer to the fire,” Malka urged gently. She stood against the wall by the tunnel
entrance.

Haven obliged. She held her hands out near the flame. It was a welcome relief when the shivers stopped. The warmth, however, made her tired and she tried to stay sitting up straight. If she dozed off she might roll right into the
fire.

“You should change,” Lareina said, standing. Malka passed her the satchel she’d had since they left Rythern. “We still have your riding clothes. They’d be warmer than what you’re
wearing.”

It took a bit of coaxing, but eventually Haven complied and took the satchel. The girls held up the blanket for her to change behind. Haven stepped behind it, ignoring the cold that embraced her bare arms. Just as she began to remove her shirt, Haven spied the paint below. She’d nearly forgotten it was there. Dark swirls of black and red peeked at her. Haven was once again reminded that something good had come out of all this
despair.

“Wait,” she said, turning to the others. Lareina and Malka paused, then lowered the blanket at her behest. “Look.” The men slowly turned. Haven held up her shirt, exposing the painting of Cidra engulfed in
flames.

They all
gasped.

“What is that?” Blythe
asked.

“The future,” Haven said, looking up at the
others.

“Cidra’s demise,” Corrin
breathed.

“The mad queen predicted it
herself.”