Shaken by the ferocity of the Undying King’s attack on his forces, Dradus fled the battle and took refuge in the shadow of a temple. Visions of finding treasure houses filled with gold faded before the white-faced juggernaut decimating his troop. Hayden would have to accept the idea his cousin and the trade agreements tied to her were lost. Dradus’s only interest now was creeping out of Tineroth with his head still attached to his shoulders.

All his machinations revived when he caught a glimpse of dark hair fluttering from a high window and a woman’s hands gripping the window frame. Niamh’s cursed fosterling. It had to be, but even if she wasn’t, it mattered little. She dwelt in a sheltered building, a sure sign she was of value to the Tineroth king.

With the aid of a few spells, it had been easy enough to reach the upper floor, despite the broken staircase. Cursed or not, he took no chances and struck her unconscious. He eyed her, crumpled at his feet. This was indeed the long lost princess of Berberi. Others might not see the resemblance, but Dradus had been an advisor to Hayden’s family for many years. He recognized Selene’s features in the shape of her daughter’s mouth and her stubborn chin.

He lifted her, careful not to touch any part of her where bare skin was exposed. He dragged her limp frame to the window. Outside, the fighting continued unabated. Dradus incanted another spell, and his voice thundered across the city, sending the already panicked horses into a frenzy.

“King Cededa!”

The entire courtyard froze, as if caught in the spell’s enchantment. Bloodied axe and sword still in hand, Cededa half crouched, prepared to face off against his next opponent.

He took a running leap, cleared several bodies of horses and men, and raced for the temple, a murderous rage evident in his stride. He halted when Dradus jerked Imogen’s head back, exposing her pale throat to a knife’s blade.

The mage smiled, triumphant. He was right. He possessed the bargaining chip that might well get him and what remained of his troop out of Tineroth alive. A good thing he was skilled at bluffing. If the king even suspected he had no intention of killing his hostage, they were all dead.

“Put down your weapons, Your Majesty and surrender. Otherwise I kill her.”

Cededa eyed Dradus for a long moment, and even from the safety of both height and distance, Dradus shuddered under the touch of that cold-blooded gaze.

Axe and sword fell at Cededa’s feet with a discordant clang. Those Castagher soldiers still alive and uninjured closed around him. He didn’t fall at the first punch or even the third kick. By the sixth, he was on his knees. At a dozen, he fell and lay still, bloodied and defeated.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN