Mihael, who rode beside his father, protested, "There are stragglers behind us. Wait a bit."

"If they'd fought with greater valor, we'd be riding into Shadow Castle now," Baron Janosk mumbled.

The gates swung closed. The soldiers carrying out the order moved slowly, allowing another handful of men and the lesser lords and officers who had commanded them to retreat inside.

No sooner had they done so than they heard the huge war drums of their enemy, and saw their riders carrying the Sundell banners, black with huge gold suns centered on them.

"A thousand… no, more!" one of the soldiers on the battlement called down.

His men carried Baron Janosk into the great hall. While Lorena and the castle servants tended him, Jorani and Mihael went to survey the condition of their defenses.

As soon as the men had left, Ilsabet moved to her father's side, staying close to him while the servants removed his battle armor, gripping his hand while the healer examined his wound.

Even to Ilsabet's untrained eye, it was a dangerous one. A lance had pierced his side just below his ribs. Though the bleeding had stopped, the wound appeared deep and dirty.

"If I try to clean it now, it will only start to bleed again," the healer said. "I can't risk that. You've lost too much blood already."

"And if you leave it?" Janosk asked.

"It will most likely infect. Lord Jorani may know something to combat an infection so deep. I don't."

Jorani had always been ready with potions for strength and protection, but Ilsabet had never seen him tend the wounded. If the healer could not help him, no one could. She adopted the proud stand she thought meant Obour. After years of hiding her emotions, she would not let her father see tears. She held her head high and fought back all signs of her despair.