“Drop your sword!” a voice called out in Elfish.
Shock slithered icy cold down her spine. Elfin soldiers had surrounded her. Goddesses, help me! She glanced at the poor lieutenant who had died trying to help her. Her mind threatened to retreat once more into a haze, but she shook off the numbness. Keep your wits about you. Whenever her loved ones were in danger, she’d always put up a strong front. She’d have to do it again. This time for herself.
She kept her sword aimed at the traitor and announced in Norveshki with a voice she hoped sounded masculine, “You will release me and this wounded soldier. If we don’t make it across the border, the king will retaliate with his full force.”
“Oh, I’m so scared,” a mocking voice replied in Norveshki.
The elfin soldiers moved aside as a tall man in an officer’s uniform sauntered toward her. She stiffened with recognition. Colonel Griffin Caladras, the one who thought Gwennore had been promised to him.
“Drop your sword,” he ordered, still speaking Norveshki. When she hesitated, he lifted a hand, and two of his archers aimed arrows at Aleksi, only a few inches from his head.
She released the sword, letting it fall to the ground.
Griffin’s mouth twisted with a smirk. “I know why you’re so desperate to save him. I saw him start to shift. He’s one of those damned dragons, isn’t he?”
“He is,” the traitor confirmed. “He’s Captain Aleksi Marenko, close friend to King Silas.”
Sorcha clenched her fists. She scanned the traitor’s features, mentally drawing his portrait so she could remember his face.
Griffin smiled. “Good work, Paxell.”
The traitor beamed at the compliment, then pointed at Sorcha. “She’s even more valuable.”
“She?” Griffin’s eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “By the Light, you’re right. That uniform doesn’t quite hide all the curves.”
“She’s the—” Paxell began, but Griffin lifted a hand to stop him.
“Don’t tell me.” He moved closer to Sorcha. “She’s my prisoner. She will speak when I tell her to. Do whatever I tell her to. Understand, wench?”
She glared at him.
“Take off your helmet. I want to see my new property.”
Sorcha looked away, ignoring him.
He motioned to a soldier behind her, and a gloved hand gripped her shoulder and shoved her to her knees. Another soldier grabbed at the cheek guards of her helmet.
She knocked his hands away. “No one touches me.”
“Bitch,” the soldier growled in Elfish.
She started to call him a bastard, then bit her lip. It might be wise to keep her knowledge of Elfish a secret. If only she could keep her identity a secret, but no doubt the traitor was eager to let the elves know that they’d captured the heir to the Norveshki throne.
The best she could do was beat him to the punch. She removed her helmet, and her long braid of red hair slipped down her back. “I am—” She stopped, taken aback by the disgusted look on the colonel’s face.
“By the Light,” Griffin muttered in Elfish. “Don’t tell me the barbarians consider this pretty.”
Several soldiers snickered.
Asshole. Sorcha kept her face blank so they wouldn’t know that she understood all their snide comments about the unfortunate freckles on her face or the upturned nose that reminded them of a pig.
The traitor, Paxell, seemed to understand them, for he waved his hands to get their attention as he announced in broken Elfish. “She . . . still valuable! She . . . princess!”
The chuckles and comments halted immediately.
“The princess?” Griffin stepped closer to Sorcha and asked in Elfish, “Are you the king’s sister?”
She ignored him. Still on her knees, she grabbed onto her thighs, digging her fingers into the leather breeches. She had to stay sharp. Focused.
“Maybe she doesn’t know Elfish,” a soldier mumbled.
Griffin used the flat edge of his sword to lift Sorcha’s chin. “Prisoner,” he growled in Norveshki. “Tell me who you are.”
She was about to answer when a deep voice in the distance cursed in Elfish.
“Dammit! You call yourselves soldiers?” General Caladras shoved an archer to the ground as he marched toward them.
The colonel and his group of soldiers quickly moved out of the general’s way and saluted.
General Caladras glowered at them. “We outnumbered them by hundreds, and this is all you have to show for it? Two prisoners and one dead officer?”
Griffin bowed his head. “The Norveshki began their retreat before they reached the woods, sir. We were unable to spring the trap as planned.”
“There should be more casualties!” the general roared.
“We could chase after them,” a soldier suggested. “Try to kill some more as they cross the river.”
Griffin waved a dismissive hand. “I already ordered a troop to go after them.”
“Are you incompetent fools?” the general growled at them. “How can you shoot hundreds of arrows and miss?” He kicked at the fallen arrows and spears that littered the ground. “What the . . .” He leaned over to grab a handful of arrows. “These are broken.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. The wooden shafts of the arrows had been cleanly broken in two. She glanced at the ground around her and spotted more arrows and spears, all with broken wooden shafts.
“The Woodsman!” the general shouted. “He’s here! Quickly, scour the forest and find him! I want his head!”
The Woodsman? Sorcha watched as elfin soldiers mounted their horses and charged toward the forest. Was there someone out there who was on her side?
“So whom did you capture?” the general asked his son, and Griffin smirked.
“A dragon shifter. And this.” Griffin pointed his sword at Sorcha and switched to Norveshki. “She was about to tell us her name.”
She lifted her chin. “I am Princess Sorcha. And if you don’t return this wounded soldier and myself immediately, my brother will retaliate with the full force of his army and his war dragons. Your army will be destroyed.” She motioned to the burning grassy area, where elfin soldiers were desperately trying to keep the fire from spreading to the forest. “The dragons will set your country ablaze till nothing is left but ashes.”
Griffin snorted. “She hasn’t quite realized she’s a prisoner.”
General Caladras arched a brow as he looked her over. “So she’s the heir to the throne?” He slowly smiled. “I will gladly return you, Your Highness. As soon as your brother gives us Gwennore.”
Sorcha swallowed hard. They expected Silas to trade his wife for his sister? Poor Silas. This was going to kill him. “He will never give you Gwennore.”
The general chuckled. “He won’t have to. I suspect our foolishly brave and loyal Princess Gwennore will come voluntarily in order to save you.”
Sorcha’s breath caught. Good goddesses, that was true. Gwennore would sneak away on her own if she thought it was the only way to save her adopted sister. “Silas will never let her go.”
“That would be a shame.” Griffin shrugged. “Because then we’ll have to kill you.”