**BOOK II OF THE FOUR REALMS SERIES**
When war came for Azura, Fara of Calate lost everything. Her husband, her new home, her freedom. When her captor - the formidable commander of the Leoth army - saves her life, she begins to see the enemy as som...
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The hall was the same one in which they'd held her muted wedding feast. A large room with grand windows on one side that also served as doors. On the walls, colourful tapestries had been hung depicting Calate and his brother at war, the rebuilding of the world after it, and the glory of Calate's kings and queens since. Three magnificent golden candelabras stretched down from the beamed ceiling, polished bright as jewels.
They had arranged two long tables, one facing the other where Valdr's lords had been seated on one side, and her father, brother, and his generals on the other.
She imagined what kind of dance might be held in here? The kind of dance she'd imagined her wedding feast to be. How many revellers could it hold, she wondered? Bowls of rich red wine and trays of delicate treats lining the walls, groups of laughing dancers spinning joyously, musicians playing endlessly in the mezzanine above.
She closed her eyes and imagined that she sat amidst such a scene now. Instead of the chilly gloom of the war council. A group of men called to discuss the miraculous happening of the princess Fara's unexpected return.
Valdr had barely looked at her as he'd entered; unimaginably handsome in a deep-blue velvet coat buttoned high on his pale throat. His hair was lightly oiled and styled back beneath the copper-gold crown he wore, his lips red as blood on his face. Lips which had twisted tighter and flattened further with each word her father spoke.
He'd promised Valdr the heads of the men who'd claimed the burned body brought to him was the princess. Those too who'd claimed to have seen the Leoth Commander commit the unspeakable atrocities against her.
None of these promises appeased him any.
'It is my word that has been sullied by this,' her father explained humbly. 'And my retribution shall be swift and merciless.'
'Is that your word too, Torrik?' Valdr asked. 'For surely I would be a fool to accept it a second time?'
Her father's word seemed only partly to blame for Valdr's darkening mood. The other was that the seat to his left, and the one to the right of her own, were still empty.
'Find them and command them to attend their king at once,' Valdr had hissed at Lord Ravol. His sharp-eyed advisor stood, bowed, and marched from the room without a word. This was some time ago and he had yet to return with Lord Dacian and the princess.
'Perhaps, instead, we should turn our focus upon the Princess's return - and what motive we are to glean from it.' One of Valdr's lords suggested now. 'Why would the Leothine release her? What advantage does such a move give them?'
Valdr ran a hand over his mouth, thoughtful. 'My sister says not all on their council favours war. Perhaps this is a show of peace.'
'Peace?' Scoffed Zalthu, her father's First General. 'These monsters savour the blood of babes, your grace. War flows through their veins and their Valkan vow means they cannot turn their swords from battle once it has begun. They will not stop until every last drop of blood is spilled. They are not driven by the same desires that we Ethisiana are. I have fought alongside these beasts - they are not built for peace or mercy.'
