The Devastation (Unexpected Circumstances #7)
Shay Savage
BOOK SEVEN: The Devastation
Although Branford is broken and desperate, he finds himself with no choice: He must declare war against Hadebrand, or Edgar’s evil darkness will envelop the commonwealth. Silverhelm’s army is grossly outnumbered, but Branford underestimates the people’s love for their commoner queen. The people rise up in support of their beloved regent, and Branford sees a glimmer of hope for his wife. He becomes more determined than ever to make up for his previous failures and secure the future of his kingdom.
With their murderous intentions, the treacherous King Edgar and Princess Whitney must pay for what they have done. They must not be allowed to destroy everything the people hold dear.
With but faint hope in his heart, Branford gathers his people and marches toward the castle in Hadebrand, gathering allies along the way. With the support of other noble families, Branford will have to find the strength to fight for the very survival of his own family and the entire kingdom.
He sees only one path: the annihilation of his enemy.
Chapter 1—Barely Manage
I thought I knew pain.
With my throat full of choking dust, I pushed myself from the ground. The throbbing in the back of my head overshadowed any clear thought for several minutes while I tried to collect my wits about me. Every muscle was tensed for the fight, and I was not sure if I was still under attack or not. I flailed at nonexistent hands surrounding me, shaking my head and taking a step away from the bodies that were far too close for my liking. They lay all over the ground, and I felt as though they were boxing me in and making it difficult to focus.
My head spun, and I stumbled. When I reached to the back of my head, I winced, and my fingers became sticky from the blood in my hair as my mind flashed with recent memories.
I had impaled the large man with the dented breastplate, using my sword to strike up underneath his armor, and then I was hit from behind…
I stumbled again as dizziness and nausea swept over me, dropped to my knees, and was sick. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, finding blood there to go with the stinging pain in my lips. Once my stomach had purged itself, I could focus better. I reached out to get the leverage to rise again, but my fingers hit something on the ground, and I forced myself to look at the face of the body beside me.
Michael.
My page lay on his side with his short sword only a few feet from his stiff, cold hand. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and used both hands to bring myself back to my knees. I lifted my head to see the carriage standing horseless in the middle of the road.
In a rush, it all came back to me, and I screamed.
“ALEXANDRA!” I jumped to my feet as dizziness tried to overwhelm me again. It nearly succeeded, but I managed to launch myself toward the carriage door and wrench it aside.
Empty.
“ALEXANDRA!” I yelled again, jerking my head from side to side as I ran around the carriage completely, calling out her name. There was no sign of her. I stood next to the opened carriage door, my hands balled into fists and my panting breaths escaping my mouth. I forced myself up the step and inside, my eyes burning as I stared at the bench seat. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep the images from the past out of my current conjecture, but it did not work.
I knew she would never have fit there, and it was ridiculous to look. Some insane, irrational part of my brain wondered if she could have somehow given birth to our child during the battle and hidden him inside the bench. I still had to look though I knew it was ridiculous. The very idea of opening the bench made my stomach lurch and my heart pound in my temples.
I took a short step forward, my ears burning with the silence around me. I could hear nothing but my own breath and the steps of my booted feet. With my heart still pounding, I reached over and pushed the seat up quickly, revealing nothing in the storage area except blankets.
Nothing.
I dropped back to the dirt road and gazed over the broken bodies around me. There were thirteen of my men, including the carriage driver, and an additional twenty-three bodies in unfamiliar garb and unmarked armor. Not a single one lived, but the loss of their lives barely registered in my head. There were so many, the bodies resembled the morning after a large battle. The only thing missing was the serfs going through the men’s pockets, looking for anything they could sell.
Where is she?
For a long moment, my mind simply shut down, and I felt only confusion. I took a few steps up the road to where the delicate gold crown lay in the dirt and bent to pick it up. I turned it over and over again in my hands as I tried to understand. It was supposed to be on Alexandra’s head. She only took it off to sleep, of course, but otherwise she always, always wore her crown. Why would it be here in the road?
Why?
Why?
Why?
My hands froze, and the circlet tumbled again to the ground. I could feel my mouth drop open, but I could not make a sound or draw air into my body.
They took her.
Oh God, they took her.
I felt the sides of the old carriage bench close tightly against my shoulders as the lights in my head disappeared, and I was transported back to my childhood with the sound of my father’s name being screamed over and over again in my head.
Only this time, the voice was different.
It was not my mother screaming for my father but Alexandra’s voice as she cried out my name repeatedly. As the sound echoed in my head, it became more and more distant. A blunt sound escaped my throat, but I could not draw enough breath to scream again. Had they hurt her? Had they…had they…?