“Slaying dragons, melting witches, and banishing demons is all fun and games until someone loses a sidekick—then it’s personal. The bad guy isn’t just the “bad guy” anymore, he’s the BAD GUY!”

“Just—don’t—move,” Guy said with his hands spread out in front of him. He looked as if he were trying to catch a wild horse, and did not advance, dismount, or draw his sword.Just then the portcullis dropped.“There’s no escape,” Guy assured him.From a nearby door, a handful of guards trotted toward Hadrian with their swords drawn.“Stop!” Guy ordered, raising his hand abruptly. “Don’t go near him. Just fan out.”The men waiting in line looked from the soldiers to Hadrian and then backed away.“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Blackwater,” Guy said in an almost friendly tone. “But we truly have you outnumbered this time.”

“There are still eight of us,” Guy pointed out. “Not exactly an even fight.”“I was thinking the same thing,” Mauvin said. “Sadly, there’s no one else here we can ask to join your side.”Guy looked at Mauvin, then Hadrian, for a long moment as the men glared across the ash at each other. Then he nodded and lowered his blade. “Well, I can see I’ll have to report your misconduct to the archbishop.”“Go ahead,” Hadrian said. “His body is buried with the rest of them just down the hillside.”

“You think he’s still alive?” Royce asked, nodding his head toward Alric.“Sure,” Hadrian replied without bothering to look. “He’s probably sleeping. Why do you ask?”“I was just pondering something. Do you think a person could smother in a wet potato bag?”Hadrian lifted his head and looked over at the motionless prince. “I really hadn’t thought about it until now.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Royce said as Hadrian prepared the bow. “It’s just that we’ve learned over the years that honor among nobles is usually inversely proportionate to their rank. As a result, we prefer to rely on more concrete methods for motivations—such as self-preservation. You already know we don’t want you dead, but if you have ever been riding full tilt and had a horse buckle under you, you understand that death is always a possibility, and broken bones are almost a certainty.”“There’s also the danger of missing the horse completely,” Hadrian added. “I’m a good shot, but even the best archers have bad days. So to answer your question—yes, you can control your own horse.”

“What’s going on?” Royce asked as throngs of people suddenly moved toward him from the field and the castle interior.“I mentioned that you saw the thing and now they want to know what it looks like,” Hadrian explained. “What did you think? They were coming to lynch you?”He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kinda guy.”“Half empty?” Hadrian chuckled. “Was there ever any drink in that glass?”

“Hadrian shook his head and sighed. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult? They’re probably not bad people—just poor. You know, taking what they need to buy a loaf of bread to feed their family. Can you begrudge them that? Winter is coming and times are hard.” He nodded his head in the direction of the thieves. “Right?” “I ain’t got no family,” flat-nose replied. “I spend most of my coin on drink.” “You’re not helping,” Hadrian said.”