My husband did not bother to hide the news from me. The Enemy was coming and the Steward was to do nothing.
"He would have us all slaughtered in the streets like cattle!" He raged. "He sits in his tower and does nothing as the Enemy marches on our very gates! He would even use his grief as a cloak as to why he does nothing. He has another son, the Guard is ready. Why does he not call the army? Why does he let them come without sounding the alarm?"
"I don't know Matteus, I don't know." I held his face in my hands, fighting tears as he voiced the thoughts that lay over the city like a thick fog. "We just have to hope that help will come in time."
"Help!" He scoffed "Who would come to our aid, the Horse Lords? They barely survived the last assault. The Elves?"
"I don't know." I whispered, his fear infecting me, constricting my throat.
Our son woke then, his cries voicing all of our fears more eloquantly than the finest wordsmith ever could. In the light of an early morning, I looked over our city. A single white rider pounded the streets that led to the Tower and our Steward. I prayed that it was a good sign.