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A knock on the door interrupts us, and the bowing servant enters.
“Yes, what is it,” the king demands.
“Sire, there are… ah… There are barbarians at the city gate!”
My heart elevates to a wild thud, and my eyes go to the window like I might see them from here. Does Lor bring help? He must have.
“What?” The king frowns. “We have enough problems and don’t need their kind here. Send them on their way.”
The servant hovers and does not leave.
The king raises both brows. “There is more?”
“Yes, sire. There are also shifters.”
“How many shifters?”
“A hundred or so, sire… And there are more barbarians than shifters. Also, a fearsome spear-bearing herd of centaurs!”
“Barbarians, shifters, and a herd of centaurs?! What the hell do they all want?”
“We have taken their stonemason’s son. His father is a well-respected member of the Baxter clan. They seek the young barbarian and his stolen mate, sire.”
“Stonemason’s son! Mate?! What, are we heathens to call them a mate? This is Pershore. The most refined kingdom in Hydornia.”
“Alphas take mates, even here, sire,” the bobbing servant informs the king diplomatically. “Also, a stonemason has a very high standing within a clan. To insult a stonemason is to insult the whole clan… and further to insult all the clans… I believe there is more than one clan at our gates. One might describe it best as a horde.”
I bite my lip. My time among the people of the Baxter clan has instilled in me an understanding of their ways. Aston could be born to the lowest family, and they would still rouse themselves to war on his behalf.
“This is ridiculous. Send for the city guards.”
“You might want to reconsider that, sire.”
“And why would I do that?”
“The other collaborator in the omega kidnap was a shifter and decorated war hero. Half the city’s guards have gone on strike.”
“I will hang the lot of them!”
“I would advise against that, sire.” The nervous-looking servant bobs his head again. “The barbarian horde at our city walls also has your daughter.”
* * *
A meeting is arranged to parlay between the two sides. I am escorted down into the courtyard, where horses and guards wait. My stomach is aflutter with nerves and hope, but also a little fear.
At heart, I am a simple young woman who once met two barbarian children who went on to be her friends. One is still her friend to this day, the other became her mate, and so too, a handsome shifter who I have just found out is a decorated war hero. I covet only a simple life with them. I have no desire to cause a war.
Yet here I find myself thrust into events worthy of a bard’s tale, as a horde of barbarians and various allies gather outside the capital of Pershore.
As a guard directs me to a stunning chestnut gelding, I hear a low, familiar growl behind.
“Touch her, and I will rip your fucking hands off,” Aston growls.
Aston. With his hands cuffed together before him, he is head and shoulder above the six guards surrounding him. Besides a few fading bruises on his face, he appears clean and well. A great well of emotion rises within me. I love him. If there were ever any doubts, they are banished in that instant. “Aston!”
The guard at my side is not quick enough.
The guards around Aston are wary after his warning and torn between guarding him and getting out of my way lest they piss the big barbarian off.
