It was a foul feeling, being clamped down and dragged like a leashed dog, even as he offered no resistance.
Alpheo still carried enough pride to feel scorn for it , but he also had enough wit to understand it was not the case to lend ears to the first.
So he tried instead to distract himself by studying his surroundings.
The keep was far too quiet. No clamor of boots, no idle chatter, no echo of steel against stone. His eyes swept the halls and counted quickly, thirty guards, forty at most within these walls. If blood was drawn, the men waiting outside would swallow this fortress whole.
A storm, he mused bitterly, could have been so easy. Too easy. And now, too late....fuck.
