Second Stone by Kelly Walker

the guilt that threatened to overtake him for abandoning the men at the fjord. He tried to tell himself that one more body wouldn’t have made a difference. He couldn’t talk to Jessa about that, though. She would probably scold him for disobeying his orders.
    “You think they are still safe at Warren’s Rest? Mama…and your father?”
    “I have to believe so. And once we get to Sheas, we’ll do what we can from this side to keep there from being a battle at all. We’ll help them. Somehow.” Garith gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as he tried to drive out thoughts of what might happen if they couldn’t stop it in time.
    “That would be good. I hope there isn’t any fighting at all. At Sheas Harbor or at the fjord, I mean.”
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    Hopelessness seeped through him, hastened by the persistent warmth radiating from Emariya’s still form clasped against his chest. Torian had worked his way a bit back down the trail, but so far he couldn’t see anything he’d missed the first time through.
    The stallion beneath him slowed, snorting as his nostrils flared. “Come on, let’s go.” Torian nudged the horse with his heel. Shaking his head, the horse backed up. “Come on!” Torian repeated again. He didn’t have time for this; if he didn’t find help for Emariya, it would soon be too late—if it wasn’t already. Despair welled in his chest. He couldn’t lose her!
    He looked down at her, clutched tightly in his arms, yet not safe at all. How could he protect her if he didn’t know what he was fighting against?
    A tiny breeze rustled the leaves of the brush near the big horse’s black feathered hooves. As the leaves moved aside, Torian caught a glimpse of empty space behind them. He loosed his reins to give the horse his head. Maybe the horse knew more than he did. Besides, what options did he have, really? Stepping cautiously, the horse moved through one foot at a time until he’d passed the thickest of the brush.
    Torian’s jaw dropped. By The Three, the horse had found the path. Torian leaned forward and patted the horse’s muscular neck. He shifted Emariya more comfortably up in his arms and then urged the horse on.
    It didn’t take much encouragement, and soon they came to a sharp bend in the trail. As soon as they were around the other side, the horse came to an uneasy halt.
    Just ahead, nestled in between timeworn rocks, the little house looked entirely out of place, almost as if it had been slapped down in a random location and the surrounding landscape had not had a chance to adjust to the presence of life. That couldn’t be the case, of course. The wooden board walls were old and worn. There were no footpaths leading to or from the house to betray frequent comings and goings, no livestock, and no well. The only sign of life was the curl of smoke floating in lazy twirls out of the chimney.
    Torian sucked in a deep breath. An aged man stood directly in front of him. A hard look in the man’s eye said he’d not seen many strangers lately and didn’t want to see one now, either. The old man looked Torian up and down, his eyes pausing for only the briefest moment on Emariya before meeting Torian’s unfaltering gaze.
    Though Torian had never seen the man before, he would have known him anywhere for what he was. A Roth. His piercing blue eyes could have been twins to Emariya’s own. At that very moment, those blue eyes were flashing at him to turn around and go back the way he’d come. Torian had no intention of doing any such thing.
    “Please…help her,” Torian begged, the words sounding foreign to his own ears. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d had to ask for help in his short, royal life, but this might be the first time he’d ever come to someone as a beggar. He ignored the inner protest of his pride. If begging were what it took to save Emariya, he’d do it readily.
    The man shook his head. “There’s no help for you. Be