Warlord laced his fine cloak with the velvet lining around his neck and headed for the chamber door. Pausing just before it to turn and give me a look. “I have to go. I must rejoin the King’s guests for dinner.”
His shoulders slumped as though this were something he dreaded.
And why is he bothering to explain to me where he’s going and why? It seemed a bit odd.
Then he turned and yanked the door closed behind him, but the corner of his cloak caught slightly, and the door creaked back open slowly.
I held my breath and didn’t move. Hope surging through me. When he didn’t return and close it, I about died of shock.
A way out.
I grabbed my torn old dress, the nearest thing I had, and threw it on, tying the laces up the front tight enough to hide where it was torn.
I crept to the
