Soren
Five months have passed since the coronation. Time has been a blur, to say the least. I’ve been all over the place lately, working my fingers to the bone to move over fifty people into hiding, and now, I’m nearly done.
The man standing in the corner of the foyer of a large, well-built stone house in the plains outside of Moorn stares at the file in his hands, his face gray and washed in confusion, then startles in understanding as I watch the column of his throat bob when he swallows, his eyes flicking to mine.
“Are they in danger?”
“Yes,” I reply steadily, but I don’t look in the direction of his mate, a woman of maybe thirty currently sitting in the other room with their three young children.
This man, a commander in King Sydney’s royal forces, was the one I knew I’d have t
