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Zorriaz.
    “I must tell the council. We must prepare.”
    She ran to the door and was about to call to a guard. Her general, Thrynn de’Bregeth, stood at the door, having been about to knock.
    “Princess. There has been a breakout. The assassin Valorron Arken has escaped.”
    “How could you let this happen?”
    Thrynn was taken aback and bowed before her. “It seems that they had help from someone on the inside. It is being looked into.”
    “When did this happen?”
    “Not a half hour ago. I came here directly from the dungeons. Five of my guards were killed as well.”
    “Lock down the palace. I want the entire city searched. Leave no stone unturned. These elves must be found and made an example of.”
    “Yes, Lady Avriel.”
    “You.” She pointed at a standing guard. “Summon the council. I will speak to them within the hour.”
    Avriel returned to her room and slammed the door behind her. Tears welled in her eyes and she took many slow, steadying breaths. “Damn you, Zerafin. Why have you forsaken me at such a time?”

Chapter 5
War Council
     
     
    Whill gritted his teeth against the pain. Sweat trickled down his brow. He gripped Avalyn’s hand hard as he tried to raise his right leg. It was no use. He had been at it for nearly an hour, but to no avail.
    “Enough for now!” he growled.
    “As you wish, sire,” said Avalyn.
    She began to blot his forehead, but he slapped her hand away, annoyed. Instantly he felt bad for his actions.
    “I’m sorry…”
    “No need for a king to apologize to the help, sire.”
    “That’s not true, Avalyn. Being a king is no excuse for being a shite. I said I was sorry, and you deserve to hear it. You have been nothing but good to me. If it were me, I would have told myself to piss off long ago.”
    “Well…the thought had crossed my mind, sire,” said Avalyn, straight-faced.
    Whill watched her, but she couldn’t hold it for long. Together they burst into much-needed laughter.
    “You are a good person, Avalyn.”
    The compliment caused her to blush, though she tried to hide it behind her light brown ringlets.
    “Thank you, sire.”
    She busied herself with preparing his wardrobe for the coming council meeting, giving Whill some time to regain himself before putting him through the task of changing his sweat-soaked clothes. The therapy sessions took a lot out of him, and though he never seemed to get anywhere, he was sure that his old power would return to him at any minute.
    He had to believe it, for to contemplate life as a cripple was utterly depressing. When he was at his lowest, he thought of Abram, knowing that the chipper old man would find something good to say about his present situation.
    At least you’ve got hands and arms to wipe your arse, he would no doubt be telling Whill.
    A laugh escaped him, one so loud that it startled Avalyn.
    “Sire?” she said, eyeing him cautiously.
    “Hah, it is nothing. I was just thinking of my father, Abram.”
    “Your father, sire?”
    Whill realized the mistake and chuckled to himself once more. “No, you are right. He was not my father. But he was like one to me…why does my head feel light? What did you give me?”
    Avalyn stopped and regarded him sheepishly. “Just a little milk of poppy. You are always in such pain.”
    “I asked that I be given nothing to dull my mind,” he said, growing agitated.
    Avalyn found her courage and stepped forward bravely. “With all due respect, sire, I am your head nurse. I deemed it necessary—”
    “I don’t think you understand what is happening here. I am the only thing holding this kingdom, this continent, together. My pain is of no consequence to the nightmare that half of Agora faces. When I say no painkillers, I mean no godsdamned painkillers. Do you understand?”
    Pain shot through his back that took his breath away. He ground his teeth, trying to relax, but wanted nothing more than to cry out. When the spasm finally subsided, he found Avalyn staring at him,