Page 76 of A Trial of War
“Thank the gods for the new moon,” Wyndfall said. “The lack of light will help us.”
“But not for long. We need to head for the village,” I said, pointing to where faint smoke curled on the horizon. “They’ll think we’re still in the forest, heading south to the coastline.”
He looked at me, his face streaked with dirt, eyes hard as stone, as he nodded in agreement.
We reached the first thatched roofs as dawn began to awaken in the sky. Chickens stirred in coops, dogs barked, and the smell of damp earth wrapped around us like a cloak on a cold day.
“Stay here,” Wyndfall whispered, scanning the quiet road. “We don’t know if—"
“They aremypeople,” I cut in. “They won’t harm us.”
The people of Burns had always been kind to me. Even after my mother’s death, I still visited this city each summer, bringing gifts to the people who farmed crops for our kingdom. They were loyal to me.
“Your kind heart will get you killed, Réalta.”
“Glad you’re here then to make sure it doesn’t.”
For a heartbeat, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes.
“Fine, but we take cover on the outskirts for now.”
We hid in an old stable behind the mill. For hours, we listened, searching for signs of the distant rumble of riders fading, the echoes of those chasing us growing faint. When all fell silent and the alpenglow of the coming morning appeared, Wyndfall finally exhaled in relief.
“Seems they’ve lost our trail,” he said. “We’ll wait till dark before we move again.”
I desperately needed to stretch my legs and wash the layers of dirt from my face. Peering through the slits in the walls, the old well out back appeared to be unwatched.
“I’ll only step out for a moment,” I told him, and before he could protest, I slipped through the broken stable door.
The dawn mist curled around the village, soft and silver. Children’s laughter drifted from somewhere unseen near the city center. The sound was so gentle it almost broke me. For a moment, peace seemed possible again.
Then, it all came crashing down as I heard the whisper of steel springing free.
A pair of soldiers appeared on either side of me, and I was forced to my knees in the dirt. A calloused hand gripped the back of my head, wrenched my hair, and lifted my face to the rising sun. I gritted my teeth against the sting of pain as his hand twisted in my hair, but I refused to scream.
Blinking back my tears, I saw Wyndfall standing a few paces away with a knife gleaming at his throat as two men held his arms. Behind him, holding the blade, half-shadowed by morning fog, was a male with haunting golden eyes.
I recognized him immediately—Gilen. The former alpha of the Solace pack.
He looked every inch the predator I remembered him to be. His hair was wild and tousled, eyes sharp, power rolling off him in shallow waves that brushed against my senses.
His voice was calm, bordering on amused when he spoke, “You think I don’t knowherscent?” he said, pressing the blade in and drawing a thin line of crimson from Wyndfall’s neck. “You think I don’t know exactly what you were doing in those woods—and who you were meeting with?”
“Gilen…” I breathed, my voice quivering with fear for Wyndfall’s life. “This isn’t what you think.”
He smiled, but it was anything but kind, a flash of teeth without an ounce of warmth.
“Oh,Princess,” he said with a deep, sadistic laugh. “Lies are unbecoming of you.”
The village was silent but for the sound of the river and the thudding of my heart against my chest. I met Gilen’s stare and found no comfort in his eyes. The blade gleamed against Wyndfall’s throat, blood slipping along the edge. I dared not move, though every instinct in me screamed to protect him.
Gilen’s eyes, haunting and cold, flicked toward me. “Your little rebellion is over,” he said, the voice of a fearsome predator taking command. “Your father has sent me to retrieve you and bring you home.”
My father.Hehad sent this man,this shifter, to drag me back like some errant child.
I lifted my chin, swallowing the surge of fear. “Home?” I echoed. “To what? To a court that believes the lies of a false tyrant queen? To a king who would rather shackle his daughter than hear her voice?”
His eyes narrowed, but his knife against my friend’s neck didn’t waver. “Careful, Princess. You might forget who’s holding the upper hand here.”
