She directed her gaze to Morla, who was still looking intently through her glass. What was she looking at?
Bree inhaled a quick breath and held it, slithered with her back against the stone and shuffled as fast as she could to the other side of the roof until she could see where Morla had her glass pointed.
Letting out her breath, she narrowed her eyes and peered at three bandits standing on the bank of a river. One pointed and Bree turned her gaze in the same direction. Upriver, a ship sailed toward the thieves.
Horland had said there was a river behind the castle ruins; so had Uncle Mark and Aunt Di. Bree shook her head. That wasn’t going to happen. She was there now, and her father would be safe. The bandits were going to ship the caged people off to become slaves. Her heart leapt in her throat. Were they going to kill Horland or sell him as a slave too?
With her heart beating a drum solo in her temples, Bree retraced her steps to her first hiding place.
The man holding the sword was talking. Bree wished she could hear what he said but by the look on his face, it wasn’t a friendly conversation.
Morla’s voice carried to Bree’s ears. “Come.”
“No, I’m staying here,” Kieri said.
“Do whatever you please.” With that, Morla swept to the doorway and disappeared down the stairs.
Bree looked at Horland just as the man Bree was certain was Drimpal drew his arm back and whipped the sword in a slicing motion toward Horland’s neck—
“Sir Horland,” Kieri cried.
Bree let out a cry.
The man stayed his hand and looked about for the source of the noise.
Kieri ducked and turned to where Bree hid. Bree held her breath, dropped to her knees, and backed out of sight. However, she knew she wasn’t quick enough. The girl had seen her.
Small footsteps pounded the roof top until she stood over Bree. “Briana. What are you doing here? Sir Horland is going to be killed by brigands and he needs your help.”
Bree got to her feet and placing her hands on her hips, scowled down at Kieri.
The girl’s face went red as a cherry. “Ah.”
She averted her eyes and spoke quickly. “I am sorry. Princess Leeta told me not to speak to anyone except Princess Morla or Sir Garlain. I couldn’t tell you that or who I was, so I pretended to be unable to speak.”
“We’ll talk about that later, right now, Horland needs all our help. Where’s Garlain?”
“Sir Garlain will not help.”
“How do you know that? Horland’s his friend. Let’s go ask him, shall we?”
They descended the stairs and Bree came face to face with Morla. Bree raised her brows. “Princess Morla, I presume?”
“I am she.” The princess narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
“I’m Briana Brockhurst, Garlain’s daughter. Where is he?”
She scoffed. “Garlain’s daughter. How preposterous.” Shewhipped a pointed blade out of her robes and shouted in Bree’s face, “Who are you?”
“Princess Morla,” Kieri wailed. “Sir Horland.”
“Shut up,” Morla grumbled. “He’s fine.”
“How about we make sure of that, huh?” Bree’s voice rose in tone and volume with every word until she screeched, “Where’s Garlain?”
Kieri clasped Bree’s hand and tugged at it. Bree let her lead her away from Morla and toward the adjoining room.
“No, Kieri,” Morla yelled.
