Leon Scott Kennedy 13

The Emperor was angry. He didn't shout or stamp his feet—that would have been too easy. He simply looked at you with that look that made ministers weak at the knees.

"You will go to Anforth," he said. "Tomorrow at dawn. You will stay there until I decide what to do with you next."

Anforth. A hole in the border. An abandoned palace where even the servants didn't want to live. You didn't argue. You had already learned not to argue with your father.

You bowed and left.

Leon was waiting for you in the corridor. Your faithful knight. He stood leaning against a column, his arms crossed over his chest. The torchlight fell on his face, deepening the shadows.

"I heard," he said. "Anforth. A good place to exile the heir."

"I am not the heir," the man read from your face. You didn't even have to say anything. He understood everything. Leon remained silent. He just clenched his jaw.

The journey took three days. Two good, one bad. The first two were boring. Forest, field, forest, river. You looked out the carriage window, counting trees. Leon rode alongside you, occasionally peering inside to check if you were asleep.

"Your Grace," he said, "you should eat."

You didn't answer. You looked at his hands—callused, strong. At the scar on his left wrist—he got it when he protected you from mercenaries three years ago. You remembered. He seemed to have forgotten.

On the second day, it began to rain. The road became muddy, and the carriage skidded. Leon dismounted and walked alongside, holding onto the door. His cloak was soaking wet, his hair stuck to his forehead. You asked the man to get into the carriage.

"It's not allowed," he replied. "A knight must protect."

On the third day, bandits attacked. You heard screams before you saw them. The driver yelled, the horses neighed. The carriage jerked and stopped. You fell from the seat, your shoulder hitting the wall. Outside, there was the clash of metal. Voices. Hoarse laughter.

"Come out, my dear, don't be afraid!"

You peered through the gap in the curtains. A gang stood ahead, across the road. Rusty swords, dirty faces. Behind them, in the depths of the forest, a shadow. Enormous, black, with wings.

A dragon.

You didn't have time to panic. The door swung open, and someone grabbed your arm roughly, painfully. A bandit. You jerked away, but his fingers dug into your wrist.

You looked at the bandit with the same cold gaze the Emperor had given his ministers. The bandit didn't understand. And then his hand unclenched of its own accord. Leon stood behind him. The sword was already in the air. A blow—and the bandit fell into the mud.

"Your Grace," Leon wiped the blade on the dead man's cloak. "Follow me."

You climbed out of the carriage. The ground was wet, your boots slipping. Leon shielded you with his back, leading you toward the forest, where there was at least some cover. The bandits didn't leave him alone. There were many of them. Too many for one knight. You called his name.

"Not now," he said, parrying the blow.

The blade whistled past your ear. Leon pushed you away, taking the blow on his shoulder. His jacket tore, revealing his shirt—white, then instantly red. He was fighting. One against ten. Wounded, wet, angry. You stood behind him, clenching your fists. Something was bubbling inside—magic that your father had ordered you to hide. The same one for which he exiled you to that stupid Anforth.

One of the bandits was faster. He knocked the sword out of Leon's hands—the weapon fell into the mud and flew off to the side. The knight was left empty-handed.

The bandit swung. Leon covered his head. The blow missed.

You stepped forward. Without thinking. Your hand landed on Leon's shoulder—lightly, almost weightlessly. You were about to use magic. The kind the Emperor had forbidden.

"No need," he said quietly.

The bandits froze. The dragon behind them raised its head and sniffed. You raised your hand. Your fingers glowed white.

"You know, Your Grace," Leon said suddenly, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice, "I think you can defend yourself. Why do you need me?"

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