Chapter 330 - Three Hundred And Twenty Nine

Chapter 330: Chapter Three Hundred And Twenty Nine

Camilla stepped out of the cabin. Her soft shoes touched the hard, dry dirt of the road. She took a slow, deep breath of the evening air. Her chest rose and fell rapidly against the bones of her corset. Her breathing was jagged and uneven.

The metallic smell of fresh blood was very strong in her nose. Her hands grasped the leather hilt of her dagger tightly. Her knuckles were white from the force of her grip.

She stood still for a brief second. She thought she would have a moment to catch her breath. She thought she could take a short pause to look around the battlefield.

But the chaotic, violent sounds of the ambush were still echoing loudly all around her. She could hear the sharp clashing of Damon and Kade’s steel swords against the weapons of the masked assassins just a few yards away.

The air was filled with angry shouts and kicking dirt.

Then, she heard something much closer.

Crunch. Crunch.

Heavy, fast boots stepped aggressively on the dry dirt. The sound came from the blind side of the carriage. Someone was rushing towards her from behind the vehicle.

Camilla’s sharp instincts flared to life instantly. She did not need to see the attacker to know he was coming.

She spun her body around quickly. Her hazel eyes widened.

Another masked man was charging straight at her. He was a large, broad man. He held a long, curved steel blade high above his head. He was moving with fast, aggressive speed, ready to strike her down in one violent, deadly motion.

Camilla relied entirely on her pure survival instincts. She did not have the time to raise her dagger to block such sudden overhead attack.

She moved her feet quickly. She dodged to her left. She threw her upper body backward, bending her waist as far back as the corset would allow. She tried desperately to escape the deadly horizontal arc of the masked man’s blade.

She moved fast, but the man’s blade was also very fast. The sharp steel cut through the evening air right in front of her face.

She missed the sharp edge of the blade by only a few millimeters. She could actually feel the cold wind of the moving blade brush against her nose.

Snick.

The sharp steel of the sword did not touch her skin. But the blade caught the silk string that held her elaborate hair tightly together at the back of her head.

The blade sliced right through the silk string in a fraction of a second.

Immediately, her neat hairstyle fell apart. Her long dark red curly hair tumbled down. The curls fell in a messy wave, framing her face and spilling heavily over her shoulders.

The hairpins that the maids had carefully placed in her hair slipped out. Some fell from her curls and dropped to the dusty ground, hitting the dirt with soft, quiet sounds.

Camilla blinked her eyes. The hair fell into her line of sight, partially blocking her vision.

She did not have the time to raise her hand and pull the remaining pins dangling from her hair. She did not have the time to push the annoying curls out of her eyes.

The masked man grunted loudly in deep frustration because he missed his first attack. He quickly regained his balance. He tightened his grip on his sword and lunged at her again.

Camilla stepped back. Her feet moved quickly on the dirt. She raised her dagger in front of her chest to parry the incoming attack.

Clang!

The curved sword hit her small dagger. The two pieces of metal clashed together with a sharp, loud, ringing sound.

The physical force of the man’s strike was massive. It sent a painful shockwave straight down Camilla’s right arm. Her wrist ached from the impact. She realized quickly that he was much bigger and much stronger than her.

Camilla fought back. She pushed his sword away and stepped to the side, trying to find an opening to stab him.

But she was at a terrible disadvantage. Her royal court attire was now acting like a deadly cage around her body.

The corset stopped her from taking deep, full breaths of oxygen. Her lungs burned for more air, but the bones of the corset would not let her chest expand to its full capacity.

Furthermore, the wide hoop skirt and the many layers of her dress began to trap her legs. Every single time she tried to step quickly or jump to the side, the heavy fabric pulled her down and slowed her steps. She felt like she was fighting underwater.

The masked man saw her struggling with her dress. He swung his sword in a fast, downward angle, aiming directly for her shoulder.

Camilla twisted her body sharply to the right side, trying to avoid the sharp edge of the falling blade.

Riiip.

The blade caught the fabric of her right sleeve. The sword tore right through the expensive fabric. It ripped the sleeve open from her shoulder all the way down to her elbow.

The fabric tore away. The cold, crisp breeze immediately hit her bare skin.

Camilla stepped back again. She looked at her torn sleeve. She was visibly annoyed. Her eyebrows pulled tightly together in deep frustration. Her lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

She thought to herself, her mind working rapidly to assess the situation. Her heart was beating very fast in her chest.

"This is taking too long," Camilla thought. Her internal voice was practical and critical.

She dodged another swing from the masked man.

"The longer I stay in this fight, the higher the chances that I will not survive," she reasoned in her mind. "I am getting tired. My breath is too short. This heavy dress is going to get me killed if I keep trying to move fast."

Because she knew she could not move freely or quickly in the hoop skirt, Camilla decided to change her fighting tactic.

She stopped trying to attack the man. Instead, she went on the defensive.

She kept her dagger raised firmly in front of her face. She blocked the man’s strikes one by one. She stepped backward in small careful steps, making sure she would not trip over her own skirts to her doom.

She waited very patiently. She let the masked man swing wildly. She let him use all his strength to hit her dagger, letting him waste his energy on useless attacks.

She parried his blade.

Clack.

She deflected his thrust.

Clang.

Finally, after some minutes of fighting, the man grew very tired. He also grew arrogant and sloppy. He thought she was just a weak woman who was afraid to strike back.

The masked man raised his sword too high in the air, preparing for a finishing blow. In doing so, he left his chest exposed and unprotected for a brief, single second.

Camilla saw the clear opening. Her eyes tracked his mistake perfectly.

She did not hesitate. Despite the dragging weight of her dress, she stepped forward with sudden speed. She moved inside his guard and drove her right hand straight forward, pushing her dagger with all the physical strength she had left in her tired arm.

The blade sank very deep into the masked man’s chest.

He let out a loud, wet gasp. His eyes widened in shock above his black mask. His fingers lost their strength, and his curved sword dropped from his hand. The sword hit the dirt road.

He fell heavily backward onto the dusty ground, lying motionless and lifeless.

Camilla pulled her dagger out of his chest with a sharp pull.

She stood there in the dirt. She took in very short shallow breaths. Her chest heaved up and down painfully against the corset.

She looked down at the dead man on the floor. She felt a brief, small moment of relief wash over her tired muscles. She had survived her second attacker.

She slowly raised her left hand. She wiped a thick strand of loose, wet red hair away from her sweating forehead.

She turned her body around. She prepared to run toward the other side of the road to find Damon and Kade. She wanted to help them finish off the rest of the remaining assassins so they could finally go home.

But before she could take a single step forward, she heard a sound.

Click. Clack.

It was a distinct, sharp mechanical sound.

It was the sound of a metal hammer pulling back. It was the familiar, terrifying, unmistakable sound of someone loading a gun.

Camilla froze in her tracks.

A sudden wash of fear poured over her entire body. The warm blood in her veins instantly felt like freezing ice. The hairs in her skin stood up. The breath caught in her dry throat, trapping the air in her burning lungs.