“I cannot do this alone. Those in Westfall have agreed to back me,” she said.
“And ye expect us to do the same?” one man scoffed. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
She clenched her fists, her body rigid as she stood facing them all. Roderick moved to stand next to her to give her strength and support.
“The princess speaks true. The queen commanded me to kill her because she’s a threat to her throne.”
Silence descended on the small crowd.
The barkeeper, a frowning man wiping the bar top with a damp rag, said, “But you didn’t.”
“When I learned who she was, I couldn’t,” Roderick said. “She’s the only one who can end the suffering here and in Brookdale.”
“The kingdom I want is one of prosperity,” she said. “Not people starving because they’re taxed and their crops are stolen.”
“And you promise this?” another man said as he stepped forward.
“I do,” she said with a nod.
“You’ll keep your word?” he added.
“I will.”
Her voice never wavered as she answered. Her hands relaxed and her shoulders drooped a little. She was losing hope again. Silence again. The man turned to the crowd, eyeing them all.
“Then I say we fight for her. Those in favor?”
When he said that, Snow blew out a shuddering breath. He would have never noticed it had he not been watching her as she looked at all the faces in the crowd as they considered. And then the barkeeper spoke first.
“Aye,” he said. “I’m no good with a sword, but I’ll fight for you, princess.”
“As will I.”
And so, it went and once they had all pledged, Roderick bought them all a round of ale and told the barkeeper to put it on his tab. Snow sat the table staring down in the frothy drink.
“You did it,” he said as he joined her, holding his own tankard.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Even with the men here, how many do we have? Two hundred? Three?” She shook her head. “It’s not enough. Not against Seraphina and her forces.”
“How many does she have?” Roderick asked.
“As many as she needs. She can conjure a dark army if she wants,” Snow said.
He saw the desperation, the worry, the fear deep in her eyes. She was right. It wasn’t enough. They would be slaughtered when they tried to approach the castle. He sat back in his seat, his mouth dry and his appetite for ale gone.
And he had yet to tell her about the sleeping curse placed on him. He was running out of time. He had to get them to the castle before the curse took hold of him.
An idea formed and he rose. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
But he was already stalking across the tavern and out the door. He headed to the inn, where he had words with the innkeeper earlier that day. They had since reconciled thanks to his son, William. The innkeeper, Jacob, lounged behind the desk. He shot Roderick a glare when he saw him.
“Come to make more empty promises of gold, my lord?” he snarled.
“No,” Roderick said. “I need to send a message to King Alfred.”
“King Alfred of the Feywood?” He snorted. “Why would he want a message from you?”
