Saved by Her Enemy Warrior by Greta Gilbert

Author:Greta Gilbert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-12-09T13:59:19+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

It was as she had feared: the sour air had begun to drive them both mad. It had started with her bizarre idea for an archery contest. They should have been chiselling, not shooting arrows! Then Intef had put forth some absurd theory that Aya was the heir to the double crown. Aya, in her weakened mental state, had been unable to contradict him.

Then, as she dozed on her bed mat that night, Aya found herself inside what she thought was another one of her memories.

Slowly she realised that it was not a memory at all, however. It was as if she were beholding some version of the future...

She was standing on a cliff looking out over a vast desert hardpan, searching for signs of movement below. Hours before, there had been a great battle. Hundreds had perished, but the losers had not yet come to collect their fallen.

Everywhere there was death. The air hummed with the buzz of flies. Somewhere in the distance, a pack of jackals had already gone to work.

Aya spotted movement near the middle of the plain: a man in a long white kilt and leather breast guard. He was lying on the ground, his hands and wrists tied, as if someone had taken him captive and then changed his mind and left him to die.

Though he was far away, Aya could see the tattoo on the back of his neck: a triangle inside a circle. He was no mere man—he was the heir to the double crown—Tausret’s son. She started down the steep cliff.

She did not get far before she stumbled. The rocks were unstable, the path steep and treacherous. She had to go slowly, lest she fall to her own death. She kept her eyes on her footfalls, not daring to look up.

Finally, she arrived at a large flat rock about halfway down the cliff and paused atop it. She caught sight of a moving chariot on the plain below. It was borne by a single white horse and a man in a white hooded robe. She recognised his long beard and corpulent figure even from the distance. It was Chancellor Bay.

He was careening across the flat plain at great speed. He lifted his whip high in the air and cracked it above his horse. He was heading towards the heir.

Aya had to get to the young man before Bay did, for she knew the chancellor would kill him if he could. But Bay’s chariot was moving faster than her unstable legs could take her and she knew she would not reach him in time.

In that instant Bay’s white hood flew off his face. He looked up at the cliffs and in the strange space of the vision Aya could hear his words. ‘What are you doing, Little Cow?’

‘I am stopping you,’ she whispered.

She found the centre of her heart and let the arrow fly. Snap went the first string from the horse’s harness. It coiled in the air like a snake. The chariot veered to the side while she loaded another arrow and let it fly.

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