Warrior by Violette Dubrinsky Page A

arrived at the line, he noticed that
    the drawbridge to the castle had been
    lowered.
    Although
    soldiers
    still
    manned the battlements, there were
    no arrows pointed in their direction.
    Varian, now wearing full battle armor,
    came up alongside him. The timid
    princess sat before him.
    “This could be a trap,” Varian told
    him,
    staring
    at
    the
    lowered
    drawbridge. Vulcan knew that. It was
    for that reason that a portion of his
    men were going in first, before he and
    Varian would enter, followed by the
    rest.
    General Akos reined his horse in
    beside his king and asked for his
    orders. Vulcan conveyed them and
    before long, Morden soldiers on
    horseback began a slow canter toward
    St. Ives Castle.
    When the soldiers had entered into
    the realm of the arrows, and none
    were loosed, Vulcan nudged his horse
    forward and Varian flanked him.
    The sisters were not gagged today
    but thankfully, they remained quiet.
    The Flower was as tense as ever
    before him, but with one of his hands
    securely around her middle, she was
    going nowhere.
    They
    crossed
    the
    drawbridge
    unharmed and entered the inner
    bailey.
    Vulcan
    looked
    around,
    noticing the crowd of armored
    Lytherian soldiers that lined all sides
    of the courtyard. They stood still as
    his soldiers passed them and made
    their way to the main bailey, where
    the generals and the other princess
    should be waiting. Vulcan was
    prepared to accept nothing less than a
    full surrender.
    When they entered the main bailey,
    they
    were
    greeted
    with
    more
    Lytherian soldiers, but ahead of them,
    standing before a door that no doubt
    led to the Great Hall, were a cluster of
    soldiers
    who
    seemed
    to
    be
    surrounding,
    if
    not
    protecting,
    something.
    The Flower squirmed before him
    and Vulcan tightened his hold on her.
    She stopped moving, but her body
    remained coiled as if at any moment
    she intended to jump from Shadowfax
    and run. When they approached the
    cluster of soldiers, a few stepped aside
    and Vulcan saw whom they’d been
    shielding. It was obviously a woman,
    if the blue and silver dress were any
    indication, but he couldn’t make out
    her face as a blue veil covered most of
    her head. A silver crown encrusted
    with various stones rested neatly upon
    her head. This was the other princess.
    “I am Vulcan of Morden, High King
    of the Northlands. Does Lytheria
    accept me as her liege?” His voice
    was loud, intended for everyone
    gathered to hear.
    Silence greeted his question and
    then as if she had to force herself, the
    princess in the Lytherian colors
    stepped forward and curtsied low,
    dipping her crowned head as she did
    so.
    “I am Princess Jaisyn St. Ives of
    Lytheria. Lytheria accepts Vulcan of
    Morden as her liege.” The words
    were not offered freely. In fact, he
    was sure that she’d said them from
    between clenched teeth.
    Varian turned his stallion to face the
    approaching soldiers of Morden and
    the Lytherian soldiers who had not
    heard that declaration. “Lytheria
    accepts King Vulcan of Morden as
    her liege!”
    “Will you release my sisters, now…
    my lord king?” Jaisyn of Lytheria
    posed what sounded more like a
    statement than a question.
    Vulcan wished the veil gone to see
    her eyes. He was sure she wasn’t
    smiling but her eyes would tell him if
    it was defiance he heard in her voice,
    or fear. He had a feeling that it was
    the former.
    “Lytheria is now a subject of
    Morden. As such, all Lytherians are
    free of harm from any of the subjects
    or allies of Morden.”
    Vulcan threw the words back at her,
    but he swung his leg over Shadowfax
    and slid from the horse, lifting the
    Thorn—that was a better name
    anyway—down with him. Her feet
    had barely touched the ground before
    she tore from his arms and ran to her
    sister. Varian had dismounted as well
    and the timid one followed suit.
    Obviously, she was the eldest, this
    Jaisyn of Lytheria. Vulcan had always
    thought her name interesting for a girl.
    All of the Jaisyns he’d