Godwin rose from his throne, his anger propelling him. He wasnt sure what he would have said then, what he would have done, but he didnt get any chance to do it, because in that moment the doors to the great hall burst open, letting in a guard who seemed to be all but holding up a serving girl. Godwin normally didnt pay that much attention to the individual servants, but he felt sure that this was one of the ones who had gone off with Lenore, just days before.

The sight of her there was enough to make Godwin stop short, a hand of cold fear wrapping around his heart where before there had been only the heat of anger.

Your majesty, the guard called out. Your majesty, there has been an attack!

It took a second before Godwin could even speak, his fear was so great.

What kind of attack? What happened? he demanded. He looked over to the young woman there, who looked as though she was barely standing.

We… we were… She shook her head as though she could barely even bring herself to say it. There was an inn… there were people there. King Ravins people…

Now the fear inside Godwin gave way to horror.

Lenore, where is she? Where is she? he demanded.

They took her, the servant said. They killed the guards, and they took us, and they… The pause told Godwin everything he needed to know. They let some of us go, they wanted us to tell you.

And Lenore? Godwin asked. What about my daughter?

They still have her, the young woman said. They said they were going to take her south, over the bridge. Theyre going to give her to King Ravin.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; not his sons overreactions, not his son-to-bes demands. All that mattered was the thought that another of his daughters was in danger, and this time, he wasnt going to fail her, not like he had with Nerra.

Summon my knights! he called out. Send messages to the Knights of the Spur. Summon my guards. I want every man we have gathered together! Why are you standing there? Move!

Around him, guards and servants broke into motion, some running to send messages, some hurrying to go get weapons. For his part, Godwin stalked from the hall, heading through the castle, not caring how many followed him. He all but ran down a spiral stair, feet rattling off the well-worn stone. He passed along tapestry-lined corridors, along paths that had been worn deep into the tiled floors by generations of feet. He headed down to the armory, where a huge door of solid brass stood between the world and the weapons that the castle held, the finest work that the House of Weapons had. The guards there stepped aside to let him pass.