Chapter One

" P rince Eron! Prince Eron!" A hand roughly shook Eron's shoulder. "Wake up, Your Highness!"

"Wha…" Eron blinked sleep from his eyes and peered up at the dark figure looming over him. This wasn't a mere servant or governess. No, his tutor, Master Anthone, stared at him wide-eyed, holding a lantern aloft to drive back the darkness. Anthone's tunic rode up on one side. His hair stood every which way. Eron had never seen him less than perfect before.

Screams came from the outside. The acrid scent of smoke hit Eron's nose. He tumbled out of bed, sprinted to the window, and threw open the shutter. Flames flickered outside the courtyard walls. People ran in all directions. A mounted soldier struck down a woman holding a child. She fell in a heap. No one stopped to help her. Why wouldn't anyone stop?

"Come, Prince Eron!" Master Anthone clasped Eron's hand, pulling him away. "Put on your slippers. We must go." Even though they were alone, Anthone kept his voice to a husky whisper.

Eron hurried to comply. The sun hadn't yet risen. Master Anthone clutched Eron's hand, guiding him not to the schoolroom but to the servants' staircase.

"I'm not allowed to play there," Eron protested. Father would be cross with him for using the servants' stairs. They're busy, son. You mustn't get in their way.

Master Anthone's breath came in harsh pants. "You are today. You must come with me. Now!"

The screams grew closer, now coming from the corridors. Was some hideous monster attacking the castle, like Eron had heard about in stories the maids told him?

"What's going on?" He knuckled one eye. Anthone paused, setting the lantern on the top step. He yanked Eron's nightshirt off, dug in a bag left on the steps, and removed a pair of trousers and a homespun shirt. "Those aren't mine."

Worry creased Master Anthone's brow. "Please, Prince Eron. You must do as I say. And you must hurry. No questions. Now is not the time."

Eron did as told, donning ratty clothing and pushing his feet into worn boots while his heart pounded a frantic beat. He'd never seen Master Anthone so agitated. Eron's toe stuck out of a hole in one boot. He shoved his discarded nightshirt and slippers into the bag, willfully defying all his sister's lectures on royal deportment.

He clung tightly to his tutor's hand while navigating the hidden staircase down. Quiet in here, except for the tap, tap, tap of their boot heels echoing in the circular turret. No screaming or clangs of metal against metal, though the lantern cast horrifying shadows against the walls. "Where are we going?" Eron whispered, feeling the tension keeping Anthone's shoulders tight.

"To the stables."

The stables. Eron loved the stables, though he usually wore riding clothes and had his mount brought around to the courtyard. The noise coming from outside might spook his horse.

Going to his favorite place kept Eron quiet. They reached the bottom of the narrow stairs, and Anthone opened the door. Lumpy bags sat by the wall, one spilling potatoes onto the floor. They were in the cellar. Another place Father forbade Eron from playing.

But where he played anyway.

Anthone charged through the room, still clutching Eron's hand, and ducked behind a rack holding salt pork. Spices tickled Eron's nose.

They went on and on, down one unfamiliar passage and up another. At last, Anthone opened the door to the outside. Frightened whinnies filled the air, along with the scent of burning wood and something Eron couldn't name.

Anthone lifted Eron into his arms and darted across the gardens to the stables.

Hentri, the burly stable master, stood with his hands on his hips. "About bloody time!" He eyed Eron up and down, hard gaze softening as he pulled out a knife. Eron flinched. Hentri lifted Eron's hair in rough fingers, hacking at the waves. Inky strands drifted to the ground. "Such a shame to cut your lovely dark hair. So like your mother's."

Why, then, was Hentri cutting it?

Hentri stepped back, assessing his handiwork. "There. Better, but too clean." He rubbed a handful of dusty straw over Eron's head. Eron sneezed.

Anthone crouched on one knee, placing Eron on the dirt floor. He set the lantern aside and hugged Eron. Father didn't like for Eron to hug the servants, but he did anyway. Hugs were nice.

Anthone let go, rearing back to take Eron's shoulders in his hands. "Go with Master Hentri," he said with the same seriousness normally used for lessons. His voice came out choked. "Don't look back. Your name is Edry now. Go!" Anthone rose and slunk back into the shadows.

"Anthone!"

"No time for that!" Master Hentri lifted Eron up, placing him in the worn saddle of an older horse the family never used for riding. Heavy packs were strapped behind the saddle. "Let's go. If anyone questions us, remain silent. Do you understand? You must pretend you can't speak, no matter what they ask you. Not a word. Can you do that?" He flung a cloak over Eron's shoulders. "Lift the hood. We mustn't let anyone get a good look at you."

Eron's heart pounded. Where were they going? Where was Father? Dafron? Lessa?

Hentri led the horse away from the main castle entrance, dozens of fires providing light. Men and women fled past them, eyes wide, some clutching crying children. "Where are they going?" Eron asked.

"The lucky ones might make Methus by nightfall."

Methus? Barely more than a village. "What if they're unlucky?"

Hentri didn't reply. Somehow, he worked his way through the throng, past burning buildings, behind the gardens, through an open gate, and into the woods, holding the horse's lead in a tight grip. The stench of burning singed Eron's nose. The old horse plodded along, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos.

Eron's attendants never allowed him to venture deep into the woods. Father promised to take him hunting one day when he was older.

Once deep among the trees, Hentri turned the horse off the path, the first rays of dawn providing light. Eron saw fewer and fewer fleeing people the farther they traveled. "Where are we going?" He was cold, hungry, and tired. Surely, they'd missed breaking their fast. He wanted food, a warm bath, and his soft bed. The stocky beast he rode upon trudged heavy-footed over the ground. "Why couldn't we have taken Beauty?" The horse Father had gifted him for his eighth birthday had a much smoother gait.

"She couldn't take the distance with a rider and pack, and she'd draw too much attention. Old Rafe here is a plodder, but he can go for days. Besides, no one who sees him will think we have wealth."

"But my father is wealthy." Everyone said so.

Master Hentri stopped the horse, peering up into Eron's face with a worried frown. "Child, if you want to live, you must be Edry, my nephew. You must never mention your family, or your enemies will kill you. The people attacking the castle now want all of your family dead. Do you understand? We are a poor woodcutter and his nephew, with nothing valuable worth stealing. We are of no importance."

Kill me? Something wild in Master Hentri's eyes said he spoke the truth. A lump formed in Eron's throat. He whispered, "What about Father?"

Hentri stared at the ground. "I'm sorry, Your High…" He glanced from side to side, then lowered his voice. "King Selin's forces invaded the castle. Your father, King Lothan, is… lost."

"Lost? Lost how? Can't we find him?" Eron understood the answer the moment he uttered the words. Hentri's brimming eyes confirmed his worst fears. "He's dead," Eron said, voice flat. Something hollow formed in his heart.

"Yes, child. But I have sworn an oath that no harm will come to you."

Eron didn't ask about the queen. Father's new bride didn't like Eron, his brother, or his sister. She wanted children of her own, the gossiping maids said, and for those children to be father's heirs.

Father dead, though. Nothing more than a headstone in the family plot, like Grandfather. Eron wouldn't ask about his brother or sister. Hearing they, too, were gone might be too much to bear.

Blinking hard a few times didn't clear Eron's vision. The back of his throat burned. No, he wouldn't cry. Not here, not now. He must be strong. Crying might give them away. If the enemy, whoever they were, found them, they might just kill Hentri, too. Kings and princes took care of their people. Father had said so.

Eron held back any sound though his heart hammered painfully in his chest They ambled from the sparse woods into the thick forest, Eron holding fast to the horse's mane, folding himself over to ease the emptiness in his belly. He occasionally glanced back at the castle perched high above them. Where once he called the fortress home, now it appeared forbidding.

A man stepped into the path well ahead of them. Hentri drew a sword far less gracefully than Father's guards. "Mage you may be, but you'll not harm this child."

"I have no intention of harming the prince." The grizzled head of the royal mage came into view as he approached. Eron shook. He'd always been somewhat in awe and maybe a little afraid of Miisov, with his bushy eyebrows and long white hair and beard. Sadness filled the mage's eyes. "Prince Eron, I have failed you and your family. But I promise to do everything I can to atone for my failings. Please forgive me."

What was Eron supposed to say? Forgive him for what?

Miisov stared deeply into Eron's eyes. "For your own good, I will weaken the link between you and your kin, dulling the horror, if I may. When the time is right, your memories will return. Until then, they'll remain murky to ease the pain and to keep you hidden from view." He turned his attention to Hentri. "Guard this child with your life."

Hentri straightened to his full, massive height, staring down his nose at the mage. "I swore an oath to my king. For his sake and this child's, I'll lay down my life if needed."

The mage clapped Hentri on the shoulder. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He raised a hand toward Eron.

Chills raced over Eron's body, gone in an instant. Was that what magic felt like?

A white-haired old man turned and ambled down the path.

Eron blinked, his mind clouding. Sleepy. So sleepy.

He slumped in the saddle, closing his eyes.

Eron woke covered by a musty blanket. Who put a horse blanket on his bed? Must be Dafron playing a joke. But if Eron was in his room, why was he so cold? He opened his eyes, jolting upright with a surprised yelp. The screams. Fleeing by horse. A fragment of a dream of Dafron, with his cold, dead eyes. Goodbye, little brother.

Father.

Wait! Who was Dafron? And Father? The images in Eron's mind, so clear a moment ago, dissipated.

Master Hentri hurried into the room. "What is it, lad? Are you all right?"

"I… I don't know. Where are we?"

The stiffness eased from Hentri's shoulders. "Oh, Hig… My brother lived here. He left it to me, but I had no use for a woodcutter's cottage." Hentri shrugged. "I suppose I do now. I'm trying to make the place look like you and me been living here for a while. Which, if anyone asks, we have. You're my brother's boy, Edry. When he died, I came from Altura to care for you and stayed."

"Why would you stay? Altura is warm no matter the season. It gets cold here." Made little sense to Eron. He'd avoid the cold if he could.

"That it does, lad. That it does."

Sunlight streamed through the door, lighting Hentri's face. Eron had never noticed the deep lines on the stable master's face or the gray shooting through his otherwise dark hair and beard. Wait. Stable master? No. Uncle.

"Why do I need a different name? Do I have a family? Where are they?" And why couldn't Eron remember properly? He at least remembered his name was actually Eron, not Edry.

"Hentri is a common name among my people. No one would look twice at me. I am your Uncle Hentri, and I'll protect you. That's all you need to know. Now it's time to get up." His attempt at a smile fell short. "We're working men, now. I'll heat you some of last night's stew. In time, we'll get chickens and a cow. Or at least buy milk and eggs from a nearby farm. For now, we must make do."

"What's going to happen to me?" And why did Eron feel alone in the world as though he'd once had everything and it suddenly vanished?

"I hope that after things settle at the castle, I can find a better situation for you." Hentri crossed the room and squatted before Eron, taking Eron's chin in one large, callused hand. "Only if it's safe. I swore to take care of you, and I will die before I break my oath. I brought a few bags of grain, potatoes, and dried meat. I've enough money saved to get what else we might need. Until I tell you otherwise, we're Hentri and Edry, woodcutters. If King Selin's men come, hide in the bushes until they leave. It's better for you not to be seen."

"King Selin? Why?"

Hentri rose slowly to his feet. "He's always hated your family, and he would hurt you if he could."

"Why? What have I done to him?"

"You've done nothing, lad. Greed blinds men to innocence."

"Would he hurt you?"

Hentri replied matter-of-factly. "He would kill me."

Eron vaguely remembered the name King Selin but had never met the man—or had he? Sitting on a makeshift pallet, though, he swore King Selin would one day pay.

And dearly.

Eron heard the soldiers talking long before they arrived at the cottage and knew they weren't local from their clipped accents.

He remained hidden in the trees as Hentri had instructed but crept closer to overhear anything said. He spotted royal livery. Were the soldiers here to kill him? Though he distinguished murmuring and bouts of soldiers' laughter, Eron couldn't make out any words, given their thick accents. He crept closer still, peeking out from behind the edge of the cottage.

"I'm a woodcutter. Been here at least sixteen seasons," Hentri said, voice unwavering. He stood with an ax slung over one shoulder. To anyone who didn't know him, he probably appeared casual. Eron noticed the muscles bunched in his massive arms.

"I dunno," the leering man on a horse snapped in reply. "Some ‘un said they done seen an auld man with a big horse and a boy about ten summers old leavin' th' castle grounds. I see an auld man, and I seen me a big horse, but I don't see me no boy."

"And I'm telling you, I've never set foot near Hisar castle."

The man dropped from his horse, hand on his sword hilt. "How d'ya know I was talkin' ‘bout Hisar Castle?"

Hentri paused a moment before he replied, "Word gets around, even this far out. I was told a battle had happened there." His voice held the slightest hint of a waver.

The soldier drew his sword. Before Eron could move, he brought the blade down. Hentri blocked the blow with his ax, then swung with all his might. The soldier screamed, falling to his knees. He dropped his sword and clutched his middle. "Kill him!" the man screamed, blood turning his teeth red.

The other four soldiers sprang from their horses, falling on Hentri as one. He dropped, blood spouting from his neck and arm.

No! Not Uncle Hentri! Eron sucked in a breath to scream.

A gloved hand slapped over his mouth. "Cry out, and you're dead," a low voice murmured.