To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 212

CELESTE’S POV

Celeste froze for half a heartbeat, confusion tangling with irritation, then the sound hit her.

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A sharp whistling cut through the air outside, so fast it made her ears ring. Something struck the wooden panel behind her head with a violent crack, splintering it from the outside. Tiny fragments of wood burst inward, peppering Celeste’s cheek and the side of her neck.

Her breath stopped.

An arrow!

Another impact followed, this one slamming into the opposite wall near the window. The horses shrieked. The carriage lurched so violently Celeste slipped sideways, catching herself against the seat only because Atasha grabbed her sleeve.

“Stay down!” Grace shouted again, already moving. She shoved Atasha flat against the carriage floor and threw her own body over her protectively. Her cloak spread wide like a shield.

Outside, the guards‘ voices erupted in chaos.

“Right flank–archers! Archers in the trees!”

“Shield the Consort! Close formation!”

“Protect the carriage!”

The wheels skidded, grinding over ice. The whole carriage jolted to one side as someone yelled for the driver to steer left, then another arrow punched straight through the roof this time, burying itself in Grace’s raised forearm with a sickening thud.

Celeste gasped. Atasha did too, but Grace didn’t even flinch.

She ripped the shaft free herself, tossed it onto the floor, and pressed her arm back over Atasha’s head before the next hit landed.

Celeste stared at her, wide–eyed, heart thundering so violently she could taste metal. For a breath, she forgot every poisonous plan she had just built in her mind. She forgot her irritation. She forgot the smugness.

Because someone–someone–had found them.

And they were close.

“Who is it?” Celeste choked out. She flattened herself against the corner when another arrow tore through the side panel inches from her face. “Northerners? Witches? Bandits?“”

Grace didn’t look back. She braced one boot against the carriage wall as it tilted again and drew her sword with her free hand in a clean, effortless motion.

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Chapter 212

“We are still in the North,” she answered, low and clipped. “Bandits don’t shoot like this.”

Atasha’s fingers clutched at Grace’s sleeve. “Grace–what do you mean?”

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Grace’s eyes narrowed at the tiny sliver of forest she could see through the window as shadows flickered between the trees.

“It’s an organized formation,” she said. “Whoever they are, they were waiting for us.”

Celeste’s stomach dropped.

Waiting? Not a coincidence? Then… this isn’t a random attack? This only means that someone had been watching them leave the fortress.

And if they had been waiting before Cassian’s men could clear the perimeter, then-

Another arrow smashed through the window and flew so close to Celeste’s ear it made the side of her head go numb. She threw her hands over her skull and curled forward instinctively.

Outside, a guard roared something Celeste could not make out before the unmistakable sound of steel clashing filled the air.

Grace twisted slightly, trying to get a better angle through the window without leaving Atasha exposed. Her arm was bleeding freely now, the dark stain spreading across her sleeve.

For the first time since Celeste met her, Grace’s expression shifted. “I know that fletching,” she muttered.

Atasha lifted her head despite Grace’s attempt to pin her down. “Who is it? Grace–who?”

Grace’s jaw tightened. “If I am right, the enemies came from the south.”

Celeste’s breath caught.

Southern.

Her mind raced–Father’s enemies? Packs loyal to the Council? Hired blades? Or—

“Demon Fangs!” she said, her eyes so wide.

Something slammed into the carriage from the outside. The horses shrieked again. The carriage tipped dangerously and nearly rolled before the driver wrenched it upright,

Grace did not move off Atasha.

“Incoming!” she warned sharply. “Brace yourselves! They’re trying to stop the carriage!”

Celeste grabbed the seat frame to steady herself, but her stomach twisted.

If this attack was southern…

If this ambush was in their territory….

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Chapter 212

If they already knew Atasha was coming…

Celeste’s carefully layered plans crumbled like dust.

Outside, steel rang again.

Then Grace shifted her stance, sword angled toward the door.

“Both of you! Stay down.”

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Grace shifted, eyes never leaving the door. “They are testing the carriage,” she said. “If they cannot bring it down with arrows, they will come in closer.” Her gaze cut briefly to Celeste and Atasha. “I need to go outside.”

Atasha jerked under her. “Outside?” she repeated. Her fingers tightened in Grace’s sleeve. Celeste could feel the tremor in her sister’s hand even from where she crouched.

Grace finally looked down at her. “I cannot fight from inside a box,” she said. “The guards will form around the carriage, but they need someone who knows how you move. If they breach the circle, the first thing they will try is dragging you out.”

Celeste saw it. A flash in her mind of the door ripping open, claws reaching, Atasha hauled into the snow while she screamed. The image crawled under her skin.

She pushed forward before Atasha could speak.

“Then go,” Celeste said, forcing her voice to stay steadier than she felt. “I will keep her down. I will not let her stand up and make your work harder.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed at her, weighing that answer. Celeste met her stare without dropping it. Fear coiled in her stomach, but she kept it buried under something else.

If Grace thought for even a moment that Celeste would panic and bolt, she might try to keep Atasha pressed to the floor herself and fight one–handed. That would help no one. Celeste needed the lieutenant outside, drawing attention.

“I know how to shield my sister,” Celeste added, pushing the advantage. “I have done it since before you even knew her name.”

A muscle worked in Grace’s jaw. Another arrow scraped across the carriage roof with a harsh sound that promised the next one would punch through.

“Fine,” Grace said. “You stay on top of her. No matter what you hear, neither of you opens that door unless you hear my voice. If anyone else calls for the Consort, you keep her down and you do not move.”

Atasha looked up at her, eyes wide, throat bobbing. “Grace-”

Grace cut her off with a small shake of her head. Then she shoved her sword’s tip under the latch, kicked the door outward with one solid blow, and jumped.

Cold air slammed into the carriage. For a heartbeat Celeste saw the blur of Grace’s cloak, the flash of steel, and the chaos outside, the shapes of riders turning, the line of trees too close, the dark figures darting

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between trunks.

Then the door swung partly shut again, banging against the frame with each jolt of the wheels.

Atasha tried to lift herself on her elbows, instinctively straining to look.

Celeste tackled her.

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She dropped her weight on Atasha’s shoulders, pinning her flat to the floorboards. The impact knocked a soft grunt out of her sister. Celeste bent low until her own chest pressed against Atasha’s back, arms wrapping around her as if she were trying to soothe her, not imprison her.

“Stay down,” Celeste hissed near her ear. “If you rise, you give them a target through the wood.”

Atasha’s breath came fast and shallow. “Grace-”

“Grace is not stupid,” Celeste said. “She knows what she is doing.”

She hoped that was true.

Fear clawed at her ribs, but she could not let it show. Atasha had to believe Celeste was steady. Atasha had to feel a body over hers, not a shaking set of hands that might let go if panic clawed hard enough.

Celeste hooked one leg against the side bench to brace them both as the carriage bucked again.

“Do not worry,” she said, forcing a calm she did not feel into the words. “I will take care of you.”

It served two purposes. It soothed Atasha, and it reminded Celeste of something important. Atasha was her shield, her proof, her key. Losing her now, on a half–frozen road in the middle of northern territory, would ruin everything she had risked.

Outside, the sounds of fighting crashed against the carriage walls.

The noise did not fade. It grew thicker, as if more bodies were closing in, not fewer.

Atasha flinched with every particularly loud clash. Her hands curled over Celeste’s forearms, nails digging in through the fabric. Celeste let her. It hurt, but it also kept Atasha anchored.

The fighting went on.

It did not last an hour, but it felt like it. In truth, it was perhaps a minute and then a little more, long enough for Celeste’s knees to ache against the floorboards and for sweat to break out across her back despite the cold.

Then a voice cut through the chaos, louder than the rest, sharp and filled with something that sounded like horror.

“Witches!”

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