“Come.” He ordered me and despite myself, my feet were obeying him. Turning me around and heading me straight for that dreaded king.
“What have you found me, Warlord?” The King asked.
“Power…” He looked at me pointedly. Speaking fragmentedly, in his characteristic way.
“Not much to look at.” The king’s lip curled up in contempt. Seeing mud and what might be darker things, caking my hair which hung before my face and smeared across my skin in clumps.
I forced my eyes hooded to hide how large and doe-like I’d been told they were.
By Clement.
Clement was the village boy. The only boy who’d shown interest in me when I dared sneak out at night.
Really the only boy I’d known.
Now he was dead in the village square. I’d seen the knights drag a sword through one of his sho
