Chloe turned in the direction of her free arm. Caught by surprise, the guard suddenly found himself releasing her, unable to fight the force of her whole body. Like an uncoiling spring she whirled, making a point with her elbow and bringing it higher than her head as she moved.

The roar was still in her lips as her elbow crashed into the soldier’s face. She felt nothing but triumph as she made contact. Something broke in his face. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. The soldier cried out in agony and put his hands to his nose as his head tilted back so that he was staring at the ceiling. Her body completed the turn, and Chloe now used the elbow once more. She didn’t hesitate; she jabbed it into the soldier’s exposed throat, as hard as she could.

He crumpled, and she doubted he would move again.

‘Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.’

Her second guard’s eyes were wide open with shock. Rather than turn to run, and have him grapple her from behind, Chloe charged. She went for his hand as he reached for his sword; at the same time she smashed the top of her head into his nose.

Tomarys had always said this was a useful move, given her shorter height. He’d said it was exceptionally painful, but that she couldn’t allow herself to feel sympathy; she must be like stone. Chloe brought her head up and pushed with her legs, feeling the guard’s nose crunch like gravel beneath a boot heel. When he cried out she made a knife-edge with her hand and struck his wrist at the joint.

His hand came away from the sword.

It was now her sword.

She drew it in a single movement and ran the guard through, immediately withdrawing the blade as blood poured out. The soldier moaned and fell down.

Chloe didn’t wait to scan the room or give the other soldiers time to attack. She had thought this plan through and taken her bearings. She knew that there were no more guards between her and the exterior courtyard.

Still carrying the sword, wondering at the heavy blade that for some reason felt as light as a feather, she started to sprint.

A ragged voice called after her – Solon was still in the throes of his coughing fit. ‘Stop her!’

Cries followed her as she left the throne room and traveled along corridors she knew well. She passed a steward who dashed to the side with a cry at the young woman with the blood-drenched sword rushing past.

Running through the palace’s main portal and reaching the courtyard, she crossed the area of paths and gardens in seconds.