"I'm sorry, my lady, but the king demands your presence in the throne room—along with the boys," the guard said, stepping into the doorway like a wall of iron as Rowenne tried to leave the palace with Alaric and Edmund.
"I made myself clear yesterday," she snapped, her grip tightening on the boys’ small hands. "There was no argument—no hesitation—that I would be leaving today, without hindrance."
"Yes, my lady," the guard replied, a note of apology on his tongue but not in his eyes, "but the king gave his orders this morning."
"I demand to speak with Sir Ronan immediately." Her voice carried the sharp edge of both command and desperation—hope tethered to a single name.
"Unfortunately, my lady, Sir Ronan left only moments ago with some of the knights. I believe he is riding far West and
