Helena felt the blood trickling from her wound, her heart racing, as the men who had attacked the village of Dinar approached. She looked at them, walking slowly in her direction. They were so confident in her death that the taller one stopped to refill his water, while the other, who had injured her leg, continued toward her with bloodthirsty eyes.

Helena couldn’t believe she had escaped the fire in the tavern only to die here, at the hands of those men—just men.

The man ...