No matter how he tried to look at the situation, it always came out the same: Willowsbrook had six guards who served under the village magistrate. Six men who were trained in weapons and fighting to protect the village and surrounding farms. Six.

His father had thought it extravagant to have so many guards for a village the size of Willowsbrook. In a way, the old baron had been right. It did seem an excessive number of men to handle the occasional drunken brawl on market day and to make sure arguments between neighbors were brought before the magistrate instead of having something small escalate through acts of petty vengeance into violence. Now…

How could he protect his people with only six guards? If he added his gamekeeper and the two men under him, that gave him three more men who were skilled with a bow. Not enough. Not nearly enough if the Inquisitors gathered an army to crush the barons who wouldn’t yield to their view of the world.

He could ask Breanna’s kin to stand with his people. The men now living in the Old Place who were skilled with a bow would double the fighting force, and a couple of them even had some skill with a sword. But that would leave the Old Place, and the women there, vulnerable if the enemy had enough men to split their forces, one half keeping his fighters occupied while the other went to devastate the Old Place.

He could command the magistrates in every village in the county he ruled to send him half their compliment of guards. That would swell the ranks of fighters, but it also would leave those villages with little protection, and the additional men still wouldn’t be enough, not when every baron who supported the Inquisitors could gather as many men and combine them into an army.

Great Mother, what am I supposed to do? How can I protect my people, my friends, my family? How can I—

A footman burst into the room. “There’s a rider coming! Coming fast. Sloane thinks it’s Squire Thurston’s son.”

Liam bolted from the room and rushed to the open front door, where Sloane, his butler, watched the rider galloping toward the manor house. Squire Thurston’s oldest son was one of the gentry youths who were riding the roads these days to keep watch around the village and outlying farms. They’d all been given strict orders not to approach any strangers. If they saw anyone, they were to ride to the nearest home and give a warning before riding on to warn the magistrate.

He stepped outside, Sloane following him. If Thurston’s son was heading here, that meant the manor was the closest house. And that meant…

The youth galloped up to them and reined in hard, setting his horse on its haunches.

“Riders coming!” he shouted, despite being almost on top of Liam.