a pearl encrusted short top. She adjusted the pearl circlet around her forehead and flicked back a few tendrils that had fallen loose from her thick chestnut braid.
Something moved in the darkness outside. Willow cupped her hands around her eyes to peer out the dark window, but she saw nothing, save the shadows of the tall, rocky crags surrounding Silvergard.
She considered running away rather than marry Oscar, but where would she go? She didn’t know Predaria. She didn’t want to know it.
She heard noises downstairs and left her room to see what it was. She peeked over the marble banister overlooking the enormous front hall. She could see guards scurrying around below like little silver-plated insects. She was about to call out to one of them to find out what had happened. Was it the Warriors?
Her father burst through the front doors, answering her question and bringing a fresh wave of heat from outside with him. He looked up and pointed his sword at her.
“Get to one of the tunnels!” he shouted at her. “The castle is under siege!”
Under siege? By the Warriors? And what of the tunnels? She was afraid to go down into the dark, small passageways, but if she had to, she would. But she couldn’t leave without some of her mother’s things. She wasn’t leaving without them.
What would her father do? He was afraid of Caleb. According to the Warrior, the king had committed many crimes and must answer for them.
Willow believed that her father indeed did dastardly things, but what they were, she didn’t know. She was sure he was guilty, and now his mortal enemy advanced upon Silvergard. What would they do with her? If her father lost, she would inherit Silvergard. The Warriors would surely kill her.
She dashed back to her room and before she could pack what she wanted, she heard the spine-tingling bellows of the Warriors that reached right into the deepest cockles of her heart. For a moment or two she couldn’t move. Fear overtook her. Where was her father? What if they couldn’t get out?
She ran from the room. She just had to get downstairs. But as she moved, the thick, wooden doors made a deafening sound that shook Willow’s knees. The doors gave in to the pressure of one man made of flesh and blood, golden skin and gleaming eyes.
Willow’s screams died in her throat at the sight of the savage. His body was garbed in boots, hide pants and a dusty, sleeveless léine. He was coiled with leashed energy. His dreadful gaze promising death.
She remained rooted to her spot even when dozens of men poured into Silvergard’s cavernous hall behind their commander, who was already brandishing a sword the length of Willow’s leg.
Her father swung his sword with one hand while swooshing his black cape over his shoulders with the other, tossing the cape around his body like the wing of a great bat.
The commander swerved to avoid the deadly slice to his belly then parried the blow with a broadsword that gleamed silver against the firelight. Her father leapt back into the shadows until she couldn’t see him, only his sword. The commander fought, delivering crushing blows.
Was he Caleb? Her heart nearly beat straight out of her chest when the barbarian’s hard cerulean gaze met hers for an instant—or two. And then, her father ran. The Warrior sprinted down the corridor after him, leaving Willow to watch her father’s men fall to the heavy swords of their enemies. She set her gaze over the madmen with painted faces.
Terror from the deepest parts of her being rose up like bile. Where did her father go? Was he coming back? His men were all dying. Everyone was dying around her.
She gripped the banister with knuckles as pale as the moon and a numb, ear-deafening scream rising in her throat. But another one of the Warriors spotted her.
The big, bare-chested, brute looked at her as if she were a tender rabbit roasting on a spit. Swallowing her scream, she bit down on her tongue, and then raced back to her room and bolted the door behind her.
She couldn’t get to any of the trap doors. She didn’t know what to do, where to go.
She opened her window and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The only way to go from here was down. Like her mother. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop herself from shaking.
She was the daughter of King Baltrasard! She wouldn’t cower to anyone!