“The last assault depleted it, and we’re low on arrows.”
“Damn it.” He slammed a tightened fist into his opposing hand. “Prepare to light the fields. We’ll torch it with our remaining arsenal.”
Patrulha turned to give the orders, but the Aldebaran officer accosted her. “Now see here, woman.” This last word he spat into the heavy dust surrounding them. “I must first clear this through the proper channels, as I…”
Stellan rolled his eyes. “Shut him up, will you?”
“Consider it done!” Patrulha slipped a hand into her side pouch and withdrew an item. The man’s mouth opened wide to protest, but a blow dart entering his neck spoke for him. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Without a second glance, Patrulha turned and rallied the men. “Prepare for Scorched Earth!”
Stellan rode across the field, checking for survivors among the tall grass. He turned to see his rag-tag troops lining up under Patrulha’s command whence he came, then he turned again to see a mob of Pestilence victims streaming out of the forest. They were only several hundred yards away. An upraised hand to his troops gave the signal to prepare for firing.
“No!” squeaked a girl’s mouse-like voice from the grass. “You can’t kill them! You can’t.”
Stellan gestured wildly, effectively belaying his order. “Who said that?”
“I did,” said a girl of about ten. She ran up to him. “My mama and papa are with them. Don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt them!”
Stellan glanced toward the advancing man-beasts. Their eyes gleamed and bounced like crimson fireflies. With one powerful movement, he scooped up the girl and spurred Midnight into action. The horse streaked across the field. Once Stellan had placed her on the ground at a safe distance, he looked on her grimly. “Your parents, are they infected?”
Tears streaked the girl’s dirty face. “They…they didn’t mean to hurt me! They…”
Stellan roughly grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Do they have the eyes, child? Poisoned red with blood? Answer me!”
“Yes! But they aren’t like the others, I promise! They can be cured. I know it. Don’t kill them!”
Stellan turned away. He raised his right hand and then dropped it. A storm of flaming arrows soared over the field and hit the open area in time to meet the advancing horde. The girl beat her tiny fists at Stellan’s torso as her plaintive cries rang on. “No! You can’t do this! We’ve got to save them! We’ve got to save them!”
Easily fending off her blows, he picked up the child once again and mounted his steed. He frowned deeply as they rode on. “They’re too far gone, little one. They’re already dead.”
Chapter 23
Since dawn, Clarysa had kept a vigilant watch from the west tower. The majestic structure overlooked the main road leading to her father’s castle. Realistically, she shouldn’t have been nursing any kind of hope. But for the past day the news had been on everyone’s lips from palace advisors to farmers–the sorcerer who had saved the King’s regiment from sure annihilation was heading straight to the heart of Aldebaran. Clarysa shivered for the hundredth time that morning, for soon she would once again lay her eyes upon the Dark Prince of the legendary Snowflake Kingdom himself.
She wondered at the change she had undergone even at the mere mention of his name. Her mood had lifted; her energy level soared. Up until then, she had spent the past month in a haze of despair and inactivity. As the days of her separation from Stellan wore on, she had chosen a self-imposed exile, emerging only when family business absolutely demanded her presence. What was there for her to do, anyway? Not only was there an edict forbidding her to go to him, but Stellan had established his own–against her. She cringed every time she recollected their argument. Yet memories of the enigmatic sorcerer consumed her. She could still feel his strong arms about her and his hot breath on her neck.
Was there anything she should have done differently? Clarysa had ruminated countless times over her behavior during their last encounter. No matter how she analyzed it, all the threads trailed back to her thoughtless comment. It was horrid enough Stellan’s people suffered extreme prejudice from the other kingdoms; it was quite another matter for him to experience faithlessness from the woman claiming to adore him with all of her heart. For shame! Why hadn’t she chosen her words more carefully?
Now, though, he had come to Aldebaran in complete disregard of the edict against him. Clarysa knew there were three reasons the King hadn’t ordered him killed on sight. One, he had saved countless lives; two, because of her; and three, because he had sent word via messenger insisting on an audience with her parents. Despite a strong suspicion that once at the castle he wouldn’t even acknowledge her, speculations ran wild in her mind. What could his presence mean?
A trumpet sounded, heralding the arrival of a visitor. Clarysa gazed into the distance. At first, only billowing dust was visible. The dust became a dark speck. Then the speck transformed into a fully formed rider and horse racing toward the castle.
Clarysa wasted no time. She flew down the tower stairs and ran to the court as fast as she dared.
Once there, she chose a spot on the balcony with a wide view of the thrones. It was strategic for another reason–to hide from Stellan. She had to avoid the agony of a second rejection. At least this way she could admire him from afar.
Various attendants and advisors filed inside. The King and Queen entered, followed by their usual entourage. Each took his or her respective place. The court was so quiet she could have heard a feather drop.
The large gilded doors to the throne room slowly swung open. A man in full Aldebaran regalia stepped through. “His Royal Highness, Prince Stellan of Vandeborg,” announced the herald with all due pomp.
Clarysa’s breath hitched. The Dark Prince
