Chapter 28.

Prince Neil.

By noon the following day, I arrive at the edge of the cursed castle, riding hard with my small band of soldiers. The path has been long, treacherous, but I refuse to waste a second.

Two of my men scout ahead. When they return, grim-faced, they confirm what I feared.

“We are outnumbered, my Prince. Trolls guard every gate. Ogres roam the towers. The place is crawling.”

I nod, jaw clenched. “Then we use the shadows and wait.”

We crouch low in the underbrush, scanning the darkened sky above Neriah’s stronghold, when suddenly a thunderous horn splits the silence. At first, I think we’ve been discovered—surrounded.

But then I see them—silver banners glinting, the glimmer of elven armor. Winged riders soar across the skies. I pale.

“Our reinforcements,” I whisper in awe.

A familiar soldier gallops toward me, breathless. “My Prince! Your father sends word. The fairies and elves march with us. He rides close behind.”