Elizabeth XIII

Fero nuzzled the top of her head.

“You do not need to speak unless I ask you to. If you need to answer, you can speak to me on our path alone. No one else needs to hear the sound of your voice. You do not need to look at them. I will shield you at all times.”

Elizabeth was shivering again and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She wanted to be brave for him, especially since he continually persisted in calling her courageous, but already she felt the power building around the dwelling.

They were coming. It wasn’t one or two. There were several ancients and they carried power easily, so easily that the house and ground fairly crackled with it.

Fero waved his hand casually toward the door and the heavy oak swung open. A tall warrior strode in.

Elizabeth kept her head buried in Fero’s chest, her hand over her eyes, but she opened her fingers just enough to see him.

His hair was a true black with strands of gray, much like Fero’s only not quite as long. His shoulders were wide