C284 THE TRAITOR'S CROWN

‎​The messenger lay in the mud of the village square. His white horse was shaking, its sides wet with sweat and blood. The man’s royal cape was torn to pieces. He gripped Damon’s boot with fingers that were blue from the cold.

‎​"He... he opened the back gates," the messenger gasped. His voice was a wet rattle. "The Second Prince did not act alone. He had men from the North