She jerked her head to the edge of the crowd. Relief flooded through Warna. The men might see her as a bargaining chip, but the women would help her.
Warna eased a step back, letting a man squeeze into her spot. They were crowding around the Lord, all talking at once. She kept her eyes down, trying to become invisible. No one seemed to notice.
One of the women tucked a kerchief into her hand. Warna ducked her head, and donned it. She’d be less noticeable with her hair covered. She slipped around one man, and then another, working her way to the edge of the crowd. She kept moving, keeping her head down. If she could get to the barn, she could hide in the hay lofts, burrowed down into the straw. With any luck, the Lord High Baron would—
She thumped against someone, who stepped directly into her path. She looked up.
Lord High Baron Verice was standing there, a grim scowl on his face. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in tight.
She sucked in a breath, surprised at the feel of his body against hers. She brought her hands up on his chest, trying to push him away.
He leaned in, his face close to hers, his silver-blue eyes bright. “Sleep,” he whispered, his voice seeming to echo in her mind and ears.
The exhaustion caught her in mid-breath, and pulled her into oblivion.
Captain Narthing watchedin horror as Lord Verice kidnaped the human woman, using his magic to render her helpless. Verice swung the unconscious woman into his arms, and arrogantly faced the humans before him.
“Ancestors above us,” Narthing breathed as he gripped his sword. For all that the humans were elder males and females, they could still attack Lord Verice if they had such a mind. “I’ve never seen him do anything like this.”
Pernard stood next to him. “Have you ever known Lord Verice to act without honor?”
Narthing didn’t take his gaze off the crowd. “No, Lord Pernard, but what is he thinking?”
Pernard shook his head. “I’m not sure he is,” the older elf said softly.
“You are now under my direct authority and protection,” Lord Verice radiated power as he addressed the crowd. “Farentell has fallen, its High Baron killed by the Usurper. You are welcome here, if you are willing to swear fealty to me as your High Baron. Or, if you wish, free to journey on with our aid and blessing. Discuss it amongst yourselves, and then apply to Pernard with your decision.”
“Is there anyone who lays claim to this woman?” Lord Verice continued, his tone daring anyone to contradict him.
Narthing held his breath.
No one did.
“You will excuse me. I must be about the business of the land.” With that, Lord Verice spun on his heel and headed toward the waiting horses, the woman still in his arms.
Chapter Three
Warna awoke slowly as the mists of sleep left her mind.
Horseback. She was on horseback, cradled in someone’s arms, her head on his shoulder. Her skin felt tingly, an uncomfortable sensation that was fading quickly. She stayed limp, her eyes closed.
Where was she?
The sounds around her were of warriors dismounting, muted voices combined with the ringing of horses’s hooves on stone.
“Narthing,” a voice rumbled in her ear. “assist me, if you would.”
The High Baron, it had to be. Panic flooded through her. He’d used magic on her; what other ways did he have to enslave a soul? She jerked up, out of his arms, and half-fell, half-slid to the ground. Verice cursed above her as his horse shied.
One look showed her a courtyard, buildings of smooth white marble, and across the way, an open door. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t recognize a building or a face, but that doorway called to her. A place to hide, with any luck at all.
“Lord of Light, aid me,” Warna prayed as she ran.
Shouts rose behind her as she darted through the door. It was dark and cool within. She could make out a long, carpeted hall, and stairs.
Up. She fled up, running for all she was worth. Fleeing soldiers and slavers in the past had given her strength she hadn’t known she’d possessed, as well as an instinct for survival. She’d not lasted this long to be just to be taken so easily. It was better to die.
Her heart in her throat, she ran up the stairs and down a long hall. If she could find the barracks, the barn, or even that rose garden, she could get over the wall and disappear. She’d not risk the others; if she got out, she’d keep going, back into the forests, hiding and moving by night.
