Free Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) by Kayla Hudson

head. Mariel rolled sideways just as the large club of wood smashed the thorny bush to bits.
    Although she doubted they would do much good, Mariel pulled two knives from their sheaths. The first one flew wide of its mark, burying deep into a tree just behind the creature. The ogre lunged at her, just as she released her second knife. The knife stuck fast in her attacker’s arm, but it just made the ogre angrier.
    Mariel tried to move out of the way of the charging ogre, but its sharp fingernails scraped across her lower left arm. She gritted her teeth against the pain and looked around for other options as the ogre turned toward her again. Spotting a large, dead branch, she picked it up and slammed her make-shift weapon into the ogre’s large head.
    The creature stumbled, dazed like a drunk, but Mariel knew she needed Aracklin to finish her off. She sprinted the short distance to the road where Iyela and Darren battled the other four ogres. Two ogres lay dead, not including the leader and the one Iyela had killed while Mariel was still on her back.
    Mariel ran around Darren’s dead horse to the body of the ogre-leader where Aracklin was embedded in his neck. She tugged on the weapon, but it did not budge. Losing her balance, she fell forward, her upper body landing in the wet, blood soaked soil next to the dead leader. Rolling to her feet she tugged at the sword again. She braced herself against the body and pulled with all her strength. Her sword slid free unexpectedly and she staggered backward. Aracklin flew from her grip as she tripped over the body of the ogre Iyela had first killed.
    Pain shot through Mariel’s head as it made contact with the hard ground. The sunlight was suddenly blotted out by a massive shape and she looked up to see the ogre she had dazed standing over her with her club raised. Aracklin was out of reach and Darren and Iyela were too preoccupied with the other ogres to notice, or come to her help. 
    At least , Mariel thought as the ogre’s club swung toward her head, I’ll never have to be a real princess.
    The club stopped abruptly as a sword crossed its path. The sword was not Mariel’s nor was it Darren’s. It belonged to a burly man wearing brown leggings and a shirt. The ogre was caught off guard by the interruption of her execution. The ogre was made even more surprised when another, younger man took off her head—or at least half of it.
    Mariel watched in astonishment as the burly man and twelve young men about her age, all wearing the same brown leggings and shirt, made quick work of the four ogres that Darren and Iyela engaged. The girl scrambled to her feet, but made no effort to rejoin the fray, since the forest trail was narrow.
    Their rescuers had come seemingly out of nowhere, but Mariel knew who they were without anyone telling her. They were members of the Versati Corps, or at least trainees. She came to this conclusion because the job of a member of the Corps was generally a lonely one and the twelve boys looked too young to be full members of the prestigious corps—unless they had run away at home and lied about their age to be initiated early like her papa had. The burly man who had stepped in and caught the ogre’s blow that was meant for Mariel’s head wore triple horizontal black lines on each of his arms marking him as a sergeant and undoubtedly an instructor.     
    It was called the Versati Corps because the soldiers involved were trained to be versatile. They had to learn to be as cunning as thieves, good trackers, clever thinkers, and skilled warriors, which was what made Darren so dangerous when he defected. The Versati Corps could be used for almost anything from spies to warriors, especially since the soldiers were trained for stealth and had strict, regimented, sometimes painful training in all manner of weapons. Despite its many uses, it was a military branch falling out of favor with King Vincent and although noble boys had once been members, it had