<b>Chapter </b><b>76 </b>


    ATASHA’S POV


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    <b>78 </b>


    E55 vouchers


    I expected the sound of fighting outside to shake me, to freeze my breath and lock my body in fear. But it didn’t. Instead, I sat steady in the carriage, my fingers curled firmly around Cassian’s hand. “Everything will be alright,” I whispered, squeezing gently, as if he could hear me through his sleep.


    Outside, the sh of steel against ws rang sharp, followed by guttural roars and the shouts of men. Through the slit in the carriage, I caught glimpses of chaos. Among them, I caught sight of Mendez, de in hand, fighting with a soldier’s rigor despite being a physician. He moved with an economy of strikes, guarding nks and covering weak spots, his coat streaked with blood and dirt.


    Then, slowly, the noise subsided. Growls faded, thest beast hit the ground with a heavy thud, and for a moment, silence fell. Only the ragged breaths of men and the restless shifting of horses filled the air.


    I leaned forward and peered through the slit again. Relief escaped me in a sharp exhale as I saw no fresh waves of beasts breaking from the treeline.


    “Keep moving!” Mendez’s voice rang out, rough but firm. “We’ll treat the wounded while advancing. Don’t stay still. Blood draws more of them.”


    That was my cue. I pushed the carriage door open and climbed down into the cold air. My boots struck the ground, and at once, eyes turned toward me. “Stay with him,” I told Mendez, nodding toward the carriage. “He needs you here.”


    Mendez didn’t argue. He only gave a sharp nod, before stepping back inside with Cassian.


    I crossed to the line of soldiers, swung myself onto a horse, and urged it forward. The men stiffened as I moved past, but I ignored their stares. If we stayed in one ce, the stench of blood would betray us. We had to treat wounds on the move.


    The first soldier I reached sat slumped in his saddle, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. Ash of a beast’s w had torn through both armor and flesh. It wasn’t deep, but the edges were already ckening, rot creeping outward.


    I pulled alongside him, and Grace rode up close behind. “Their ws carry poison,” she said quickly, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Usually, it slows men down but doesn’t kill. But during the red moon, it multiplies inside the body. If untreated, it bes fatal.”


    The soldier lifted his head, his face pale and slick with sweat. His eyes flicked to me, then to Grace, uncertain. I reached for his wrist, but he jerked back.


    11:23 Wed, <b>Sep </b><b>10 </b>


    “At ease,” Grace ordered sharply. “Her Highness is going to heal you.”


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    The man’s eyes widened in shock. Around us, the other soldiers murmured, their grips tightening on reins and weapons.


    He tried to pull away again, but Grace pressed him harder. “Think. If she were a witch, you’d smell it. Rotten air, sulfur on the wind. Do you smell that now?”


    The men hesitated, sniffing the air, their faces tense.


    “No,” Grace continued firmly. “She isn’t a witch. She is wolfless, yes, but still chose <i>to </i>ride with us, to heal us, when she could have stayed behind. You’ll ept her help, or you’ll die from that wound.”


    The soldier swallowed hard. Slowly, he lowered his arm.


    I didn’t waste another breath. I pressed my palm against the wound. Warmth spread from my hand, seeping into the ckened flesh. The rot resisted at first, like ice clinging to stone, but then it melted away under my power. Color flushed back into his skin, the torn edges of the wound knitting together until only a faint scar remained.


    The soldier gasped, eyes wide, staring at his arm as if it weren’t his own. His pallor faded to healthy color, and strength returned to his grip.


    “Mydy, you-” He faltered, his words lost as he twisted his arm, searching for pain that was no longer there.


    Another soldier leaned closer, disbelief in on his face. “It’s healed. Arturo, how do you feel?”


    The man–Arturo–looked up, his voice shaking. “I… I feel whole. Strong. As if the beast never touched me.”


    Grace nodded toward me. “Cover his arm. His armor’s ruined there.”


    But before Arturo could obey, he swung down from his horse. The sudden movement startled me, but what came next froze me entirely.


    He dropped to his knees in the mud and pressed his forehead to the ground in a deep bow. His voice carried, rough but steady. “My life is yours, Princess Consort. You saved me from certain death. From this day, I serve you as I serve the North.”


    The surrounding men stiffened, their eyes flicking between him and me. Some looked uneasy, others thoughtful.


    <b>I </b>stared at Arturo<b>, </b>caught off guard. I hadn’t expected this. “Rise,” I said quietly. “Save your vows for Lord Cassian. He is the one who leads you.”


    <b>11:23 </b>Wed, Sep 10


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    But Arturo shook his head, eyes still lowered. “I swore to the Lord the day I took my shield. Now I swear to you, the one who chose to fight with us instead of hiding. The Princess of the North.”


    I forced myself to stayposed, though my heart was pounding. This was more than healing a wound. This was nting something in the men that I wasn’t sure I was ready for.


    Grace leaned in close, her tone low but certain. “They’ve seen what you can do. They won’t forget this.”


    I almost asked if that was really a good thing. To be remembered. The thought made me sigh. I wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and part of me wanted to shrink from it. Straightening my shoulders, I forced the hesitation down. “Let’s proceed,” I said, making my voice sound firmer than I felt as I moved to the next wounded soldier.


    This time, there were only two of them. One was Arturo and the other was Joneses, both seasoned warriors. Their wounds weren’t shallow, and mending them had pulled more out of me than I wanted to admit. By the time I finished sealing the gash along Joneses’s ribs, my legs felt like they’d turned to lead. My head throbbed, and my hands shook as though the strength had been drained straight from my bones.


    Grace rode closer, studying my face with a frown. “Your Highness, you look exhausted.”


    “That’s because I am,” I admitted. I swayed slightly in the saddle and exhaled, already turning my mount toward the carriage. “I should rest before I copse.”


    But before I could move far, I noticed motion at the corner of my eye. Both Arturo and Joneses dismounted their horses with heavy thuds, dropping to the ground with surprising swiftness for men their age. Then the other warriors followed.


    I frowned, pulling on the reins. “What are you doing?<b>” </b>


    They didn’t answer immediately. Instead, like Arturo had done earlier, they went down on one knee. Their armor clinked as they pressed fists to the earth, lowering their heads in the gesture of sworn loyalty.


    It startled me. My first instinct was to tell them to get back on their horses before the beasts circled again, but their voices cut through the air before I could speak.


    “To the Princess Consort,” Joneses said firmly. “From this day forward, my de belongs to you.”


    <b>11:23 </b>Wed, Sep <b>10 </b>