Hold! Vars commanded, and the men around him did as he ordered, even though it was obvious that they didnt understand why. They milled about, lined up ready to charge, clearly eager to do it.

Your highness, the sergeant said. Theyre getting away. We need to

I decide what we need to do, Vars snapped, hating himself even as he said it. The truth was that a part of him longed to charge down there as much as any of the soldiers did. He wanted to be the one to save his sister, wanted to see his fathers gratitude at his bravery.

The problem was that he couldnt.

Vars couldnt bring himself to heel his horse forward, couldnt bring himself to force it over that bridge, couldnt set foot in the south like that. Here… here he was safe, but there… there could be soldiers waiting in the trees beyond, could be a whole army hidden just south of the river. To charge to the south was to invite disaster, to expose himself to dangers that seemed to swirl, impossible to know, in the back of his mind.

In a realm that was under his familys control, Vars felt as though he could do anything. Did do anything, safe in the knowledge that nobody could touch him. There, though, past the bridge, there was nothing to protect him beyond the strength of his arm and the loyalty of his men. Just the thought of that made Vars feel sick with worry.

Your highness… the sergeant began again, but Vars cut him off.

Be silent! Do you want to start a war? If we cross that bridge, thats what it means: a war! And I… I am the second in line to the throne. What if theyre crossing in full view of us to lure me across? What if this is some kind of trap?

It was an excuse rather than a reason, and Vars knew even as he said it that he hadnt convinced his men. He could see their looks of disapproval, so similar to those he faced back in Royalsport whenever he wouldnt hunt or fight. Someone would pay for those looks, but not now, not now…

At least they could do nothing about it. None of the men dared to disobey Vars, which meant that none of them could show him up. None of them could show his fear for what it was. All of them had to sit there, watching while the small group of enemies passed over the bridge, into the Southern Kingdom and down along the road.

They were just on the edge of sight when the unthinkable happened: a second set of horsemen approached from the north. Even then, it might have been all right; Vars might still have remained in control of the situation, except for one stupid, hateful thing…

Rodry was at their head.

***