AMBUSH AND AGONY The mud was thick, pulling at my horse’s hooves with every step. The forest was too quiet. It was the kind of silence that makes the hair on your arms stand up. I sat tall in my saddle, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. My knuckles were white.

"Something feels wrong, Sire," Commander Vane whispered, pulling his horse up beside mine. "The scouts should have been back by now."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was a dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes that hadn't ...