"Death to traitors!" the scythe-man shouted, swinging the long-handled blade in a deadly arc. Kiara jerked her horse back, but in the tight quarters of the burning stockade there was little room to maneuver. The horse kicked its heavy hooves at the raider's head, but the wiry man dodged the strike, intent on ripping out the belly of the horse with his sharp blade. Kiara slashed with her sword, but the scythe's long handle kept her assailant out of range.
A low whirr and the glint of firelight on metal were the only warning as Cam's battle axe spun through the air, catching the raider full in the back of the head. One side of his skull exploded as the body fell twitching to the ground. Kiara brought her horse down onto the raider's back, grimacing at the sound of cracking bones and pulping flesh.
"Surrender and face trial," Cam shouted above the din to the raiders. "Fight and you'll die."
"No surrender!" shouted a raider as arrows flew. Dozens of raiders burst from their cover, wildly swinging whatever weapons they possessed, counting on their furious attack to make up for their shrinking numbers.
"Take the leaders alive!" Kiara yelled, hearing Cam relay the order down the line. Within a few more moments of fierce fighting, the stockade had been subdued, its buildings leveled by fire and its raider garrison dead or captured.
Cam dragged a bound raider toward her and shoved the man to his knees, snatching away his helm so that Kiara could look at his face. Soot-streaked and bloodied, the raider glared up at her. "Came to do the dirty work yourself, your highness?"
"You're charged with high treason, with the crimes of waylaying the king's supply wagons, ambushing his messengers, and planning to overthrow King Donelan. You'll be taken to the palace for your trial."
"I don't need a trial," the raider said. "Guilty as charged, Your Highness. I'd put my knife through your chest in a heartbeat if it would keep you from betraying your people with the Margolan alliance."
"Take him away."
Cam pulled the raider to his feet. "Isencroft won't recognize a foreign king or a traitor
queen," the raider shouted as Cam dragged him toward the wagons. "No peace until Isen-croft's throne remains free!"
Around her, the king's guards were making short work of securing what was left of the outpost. Kiara watched, hoping that if the others saw her shiver, they'd assume it was with cold. How many times have we argued this? No one wants an independent Isencroft more than father and me. The' betrothal contract wasn't originally supposed to create a joint throne. But there aren't any other heirs, and Isencroft is impoverished. We'll need Mar-golan's help just to feed our people, let alone keep away the brigands from the Western border or the raiders from across the sea. Perhaps we can split the crown again when my children are grown, a generation from now. But it's fools' pride to turn aside Margolan's help only to fall to invaders.