CHAPTER 8
Once inside the castle, Mykal remembered the last time he’d run through the halls. It had been part of a living nightmare. Galatia, close to death, was bound in the dungeon surrounded by the corpses of wizards the Mountain King had murdered. A grandfather he’d never met, his mother’s father, was among the strewn-about corpses. A shiver raced up his spine, the muscles in his back spasmed as his shoulders tensed.
“You alright?” Blodwyn whispered. He’d stopped walking, letting Geneva and the sentry at the lead get several feet ahead of them.
“Just memories.”
“They’re hard to shake. You’ll be okay.”
Mykal wasn’t sure if Blodwyn was asking or telling him that he’d be okay. He nodded, agreeing, regardless.
The walls were decorated with exotic and exquisite tapestries. It was much
