Eleanor has made her voice clear and turned from her father and her family.
But it’s not that easy to run from the King.
She turned her back on him once, but now she will face his wrath and his blade.
Will the castle falls there are still some things the king will fight for…
A Princess, A Knight And A Tyrant King.
When war is brewing she must fight or die…
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Eleanor ran straight through the stone corridors they had dragged her through, and back towards the battle.
She didn’t have a plan; she didn’t know where she was running to, she just knew she couldn’t go with her father, couldn’t go back that way and couldn’t go back to that life.
She heard shouting behind her and put all the effort she could manage into speeding up. Forcing herself to go faster across the flagstones and back outside into the courtyard.
Then she stopped.
The battle was ending.
There were bodies strewn across the ground. She could hear screams and moans of agony as the wounded fought to stay alive.
She stared across at the chaos.
“You! Come with me.”
She looked across to see a knight. His helmet was gone, the sweat pouring from his exhausted face. He looked bloodied and beaten, and his tabard showed the colours of Perrigor. But he was victorious as his sword pointed directly at Eleanor’s neck.
She wasn’t sure what would happen to her now. She was a prisoner of Perrigor. They all were. Eleanor stepped forward, allowing the knight to capture her, accepting her fate and hoping that Adelaide would appear, hoping that she was close by and would come back for her.
Hoping that she was still alive, somewhere amongst this chaos.
Eleanor realised, with dread, that if she wasn’t, if something had happened to Adelaide, if she wasn’t able to save her, then her life would be over in more ways than one. Not only would Adelaide be gone, but without her, Eleanor wouldn’t be able to explain to the knights of Perrigor that she was on their side and that she wanted peace just as much as they did.
At least she hoped that was what they wanted.
“Let her go!”
Eleanor turned. Her father entered the courtyard with four of his guards. The knight who’d captured her threw his sword to the ground and raised his hands. The tables had turned.
With so few left on the battlefield, four fresh knights made all the difference.
But not for long.
As soon as the commotion was overheard, more Perrigor knights ran forward from all corners of the battlefield. As one battle had finished, it looked as though another was about to begin, and Eleanor stood right between the battle lines.
She looked from one group to the other. The exhausted but determined Perrigor knights against the fresh, but outnumbered knights of her father.
“Eleanor,” her father said slowly, his sword raised, watching the knights, waiting for the moment they would pounce “come to me.” He put his hand out to her, a lifeline, a way to safety.
She glanced at it for a moment, but looked around, hoping to see Adelaide, hoping she would come back.
“Eleanor!” said her father, with more anger. He was losing his patience, but he was also panicking. She’d never heard the panic in his voice before, had never heard a quaver or a tremble of anything close to panic. She looked at him in a new light. He was scared. This might be a chance, her only chance to overpower him. To gain her freedom and to gain peace.
With no further thought, she grabbed the Perrigor Knight’s sword, which had clattered to the ground, and faced her father.
He stared at her in shock and confusion. His knights glanced from one to the other. No one knew what was happening, and no one understood this betrayal.
“Drop your weapon,” she ordered.