Warrior Rising - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,2

Esri's.

"What did you see?" Jack asked softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, as if struggling for control, and Harrison knew they weren't going to like the answer. Finally, she pulled out of Jack's embrace and swiped at the tears. Though visibly shaken, the woman was tough. With a deep, shuddering breath, she met their gazes, one after the other.

"I saw ten or twelve slaves come through the gate first, all shooting arrows. Fifteen or twenty Esri flew through after." She opened her mouth to continue, then squeezed her eyes closed as more tears ran down her cheeks.

Jack gripped her shoulder, offering her strength as they both waited silently for her to continue. As bad as Harrison knew her vision had been, one thought kept racing through his head. So far, it was about them, not Charlie. And they could change it.

Larsen got control again and continued, her bottom lip unsteady. "Most of us die from arrows through the neck and head."

"The vests aren't going to be enough," Jack murmured.

"No. And those who don't die from the arrows, will be killed by Esri knives."

Harrison's neck felt stiff as he lifted his gaze to Jack's, seeing in the cop's eyes the same frustration he was feeling. A month's worth of extensive planning and it was all going to be for nothing.

With a rough sigh, Harrison shook his head. "We need a plan B, and fast."

"What about the fire ring?" Jack asked his wife. The firefighters were setting it up, even now. "Does it help at all?"

"I didn't see any fire."

Jack frowned, his gaze returning to Harrison's. "What does that mean?"

"They have to be coming through early."

Alarm flashed in the cop's eyes. "I agree. They could be coming through any minute. And we're going to need additional protection against the arrows." He kissed his wife on the cheek, already springing into motion. "I can get us some helmets. And we'll circle vehicles around the park to act as shields." His voice floated back as he took off toward the police captain.

Harrison squeezed Larsen's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She met his gaze with traumatized eyes. "It never gets any easier."

Hatred clawed at his insides. "We're going to stop them, Larsen. I swear it." His gut clenched. "You didn't...?" He couldn't finish.

"I didn't see Charlie. I think I would have, Harrison. I think I'd know if he'd died. He told you he'd return with a fairy princess on his arm, didn't he? We have to believe he will. Princess Ilaria is our only hope."

For the hundredth time, he thought of that painting some nineteenth-century Sitheen had painted of a woman he'd never known, a woman Kade later confirmed was Princess Ilaria. That pale, pale skin and hair. Those bright green eyes. If she weren't Esri, he might have thought her beautiful.

She was their only hope. An Esri was their only hope, and what did that say about their chances of success?

That they were next to zero, that's what. His fingers curled into fists inside his pockets.

Even if the Sitheen resistance survived the night's battle, they were in deep trouble.

He reached once more for his cell phone.

If only Charlie would call.

* * *

Princess Ilaria stood in the dark field beneath a sky filled with a million stars, and saw nothing but the fire branded onto the backs of her eyelids and seared into her brain. Memories, just memories, but she shook just the same. The flames circling her, creeping up her gown, crawling over her fingers and hands, burning the flesh from her bones. Not real memories, for the fire had never been real, only visions the Forest of Nightmares had created for her, had brutalized her with. Visions that bombarded her mind, still, although she was finally free of that miserable place.

The icy wind tore at her gown, snowflakes stinging her face and hands even as perspiration rolled between her shoulder blades. With a violent shudder, she fought the clawing memories, pushing them back, trying to grasp the fact that after three hundred years, she was finally free of the prison King Rith had consigned her to. A place she'd feared she'd never leave.

Long, curly hair blew into her face, yet she could do nothing but turn her head to escape the blowing locks. Her shaking hands were still tied firmly behind her back. She willed her heart to cease its terrible pounding. There was no fire here. Not yet, though she knew the human realm to be