CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Royce stood with his sword at one side, and the velvet bag with the mirror on the other, the mixed crowd of villagers and Picti staring at him. He could feel how fragile this moment was, and how easily things could erupt back into violence if he did nothing in the next few seconds. He stood there, the obsidian sword raised high so that everyone could see it, Gwylim standing by his side, and he spoke as loudly as he could to ensure that everyone there heard him.
“Quickly, bring the injured to the healing stone,” he said. “Let’s use it for its purpose for once, rather than the twisted way King Carris’s people have used it. Help the person nearest to you. I don’t care if they’re a villager or one of the Picti. Help one another.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, but then pe
