Trynne fed part of her magic into the stallion she rode, invoking the word of power that would banish fatigue and weariness. The ground thrummed with the noise of horses’ hooves as the host of Oath Maidens charged down the hill. The enemy had turned to face the onslaught of horses. Trynne saw rows of archers lining themselves up in front of the leaf-armored knights. They were disciplined and calm, row after row of steel and fletching and death. Trynne’s heart hammered in her ribs. Was this foolishness? How many of her sisters would fall? She dared not think on it.

A shout of command was given and the archers drew back their arrows, kneeling in the trampled grass, elbows pulled back, fists by their cheeks. The order was given and a hail of arrows arced skyward before plummeting like daggers. Before the first volley had fallen, a second was launched.

Trynne felt the magic of the Fountain sweep through her as the arrows began to land in the grass all around her, sticking like quills on a porcupine. She gritted her teeth, hearing the screams and cries of horses stumbling and falling.

The throb of magic swelled in the air as a cloud of arrows hammered down at them. Then it dawned on her why she hadn’t heard any screams from the maidens. And it thrilled her to her core. One of the five oaths they had sworn was never to kill a man by spear or arrow—and in return, they would not be slain by one. The magic of the oaths they had taken had been extended to the Oath Maidens riding with her, forming a shield of sorts that was invisible but real. But it had not protected some of their steeds.

She was close enough to see the archers, close enough to see the fear bloom in their eyes when they realized their bolts hadn’t harmed a single maiden. Their discipline shattered, they tried to claw their way through the leaf-armored knights to escape the front lines of the battle. Trynne had a sword already in hand, the reins tight in her other, and watched as the archers abandoned their lines.

Trynne’s horse was in front, but she heard the thunder of her companions’ charge, felt them coming as a scythe to mow the wheat. She heard the tumult coming from the army behind them, the clatter she’d asked the king to make. When the maidens screamed a furious war cry as they leaped into the ranks of the enemy, it felt as if a tide had swarmed the enemy. Trynne surrendered to her instincts, to the wellspring magic that flooded her with knowledge and experience from hundreds of similar battles.