Finally, a sick silence fell into the yard. Every one of Flint’s men lay dead or groaning on the ground. The archer’s bows lay scattered around the cloisters like fallen leaves, fingers that would never string up again now curled in a rictus of death.

Ark stood directly in front of Flint. “I will finish with you now.”

Flint towered over the boy, the last traitor standing. “You have no weapon. I have no fear.”

“But my words might convince you,” said Ark. “Kneel!” The command was soft. He’d learned his true mother’s lessons well. And mothers would fight to the death to protect their territory.

“You would have me bow down? I think not!” The arrogance still played around Flint’s features — the jut of his jaw, the defiance in his gray eyes.

“Kneel!” said Ark, who would not be brooked. As their eyes met, the power of the forest flowed between them, enveloping Flint’s body, forcing it to stagger as every ounce of willpower was put into resistance. However, given time, a tree will crack stone as easily as a chisel. Despite himself, the Commander’s knees bent and he collapsed onto the floor.

The King watched, appalled at the ease with which Ark bent this once proud man into a bundle of shaking muscles. “Must you do this?” He stepped forward, trying to intervene. “We shall expose his deceit by trial. This is the way of the Dendrans.”

“I am sorry, Your Majesty. But the moment your trusted colleague agreed to have you killed, his path was set.” Ark remembered a nervous sewer apprentice running away from danger like a rabbit. That young Malikum was no more than a misty memory. “Now I will give the Commander one last chance for mercy.”

All this time, Flint crouched on all fours on the bloody ground like a wounded animal. His lips tried to form words, but Ark’s hypnotic hold stopped any response.

“You will ask the forgiveness of your king and the people who trusted you to protect them!” Each word was like an acorn dropped and instantly rooted in the dark soil of Flint’s mind. Flint, surrounded by a cohort of corpses, bit down hard on his lips until the blood flowed freely down his chin. If he spoke up and admitted his wrongs, the mad boy would let him live. But that was not the way of a leader. He would not submit.

Ark knew exactly what the man’s response would be. “You … will … do … as the forest desires!” And now it was Ark towering over Flint, every syllable hammering into the man’s brain.