There was a squawking of chickens and the sound of a man’s booming voice, and Arthas’s face fell. He squared his small shoulders, made an intense but ultimately ineffectual attempt at brushing off the straw, and strode out of the barn.

“Sir Uther,” he said in his best I am the prince and you had best remember it voice. “These people have been kind to me. I pray you, don’t go trampling their poultry.”

Or their snapdragon beds, he thought, glancing over at the snow-covered piles of raised earth where the beautiful blooming flowers that were Vara Balnir’s pride and joy would burst forth in a few short months. He heard Jorum and Jarim follow him out from the barn, but did not glance behind him, instead regarding the mounted knight, fully clad in—

“Armor!” Arthas gasped. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Uther said grimly. “I’ll send someone back for your horse, Prince Arthas. Steadfast can travel faster even with two.” He reached down, a large hand closing on Arthas’s arm, and swung the boy up in front of him as if he weighed nothing at all. Vara had come out of the house at the sound of a horse approaching at full gallop. She was wiping her hands off on a towel, and had a smudge of flour on her nose. Her blue eyes were wide, and she looked over at her husband worriedly. Uther nodded politely to her.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Uther said. “Ma’am.” He touched his forehead with a mailed hand in courteous salute, then kicked his horse Steadfast—armored as his rider was—and the beast leaped into action.

Uther’s arm was like a band of steel around Arthas’s midsection. Fear bubbled up inside the boy but he pushed it down even as he pushed on Uther’s arm. “I know how to ride,” he said, his petulance covering up his worry. “Tell me what is going on.”

“A rider from Southshore has come and gone. He brings ill news. A few days ago, hundreds of small boats filled with refugees from Stormwind landed on our shores,” Uther said. He did not remove his arm. Arthas gave up that particular struggle and craned his neck, listening intently, his sea-green eyes wide and fastened on Uther’s grim face. “Stormwind has fallen.”