There before him was her father with his army. Dressed in armor, her father wore no helm to cover his stern, chiseled features. His long black hair brushed his shoulders as he narrowed his black eyes on her husband. She winced at the rage that contorted her father’s face. Never once had she seen this side of him. To her, her father had only been loving and indulgent. Kind. Velkan drew his sword and stood there as if to take all of them on.

“You’re outnumbered, boy,” her father snarled. “Is this how you would die?”

“In battle, aye. It’s what I prefer.” Velkan glanced back over his shoulder. “But you promised me that you’d allow my servants to take Esperetta home for a proper burial. Do you still swear it?”

Her father’s lip curled before he nodded.

Velkan planted the blade of his sword into the ground beside his foot. “Then I surrender to your…” he paused before he said, “mercy,” from between gritted teeth.

Two of her father’s men dismounted before they came to take Velkan. As soon as they held him, her father slid from his horse. He came forward with an angry swagger.

“She’s dead,” Velkan spat, trying to free himself. “Leave her in peace.”

Her father scoffed as he entered the cottage and moved to stand beside her. Retta held her breath as she saw the pain that darkened his brow. His lips quivered ever so slightly as he looked down on her body. He lifted his hand to press it against her mouth and nose so that he could hold them closed.

“I told you,” Velkan said, his voice rife with anger. “She’s dead.”

Her father jerked the dagger from his waist as he turned on Velkan with a fierce curse. “She’s nothing but a Danesti whore.” And then her father plunged the dagger straight into her heart.

Velkan let loose a cry so anguished that it made every hair on her body stand up as he shook off the men who held him and grabbed his sword. Before he could pull it free, two arrows were shot into his back—one striking his shoulder, the other to the left of his spine. Velkan stumbled to the side, and when he failed to go down, another arrow was shot into his leg. He cried out, reaching for the fallen sword. Until another arrow was embedded into his forearm.

“Don’t kill him!” her father roared. “Not yet!” He kicked Velkan’s sword out of reach before he shoved the arrow at the small of Velkan’s back deeper into his body. Velkan growled, trying to move, but there was nothing he could do.

Instead, he looked to where she lay inside. “Esperetta,” he breathed in a tone that was filled with tragedy and loss.

Her father seized Velkan by the hair and pulled him back. “She’s the least of your concerns, you bastard.”