The Lost Realm by J. D. Rinehart

it had to be you.”
    Elodie held her breath. Insulting Stown might anger him beyond reason—or it might just convince him she was telling the truth.
    â€œIt’s quite a turnabout,” said Stown suspiciously. “But that doesn’t matter now. We have you at last.”
    â€œYes, at last! I can’t bear to stay with Trident a moment longer. I presume you’ve been ordered to take me back to my father at Ritherlee?”
    â€œJust as soon as we’ve finished off your Trident friends.”
    â€œThey’re not my friends.” Elodie thought quickly, trying not to let her alarm show in her face. “Besides, they’re finished already. They’re not worth your time.”
    â€œWe’ll fight you to the last man!” shouted Fessan, struggling in vain to free himself. “Elodie—you can’t do this!”
    â€œStay where you are, young lady,” said Stown. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt while we finish our business here.” He turned to his men and shouted, “Round up every last one of these Trident scum!”
    Elodie watched with mounting horror as the Vicerin soldiers moved swiftly among the Trident ranks, disarming the green-clad soldiers and forcing them to their knees.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with them?” she blurted.
    Before Stown could respond, a man rode up on a huge black horse. He was almost skeletally thin, his skin as dark as mahogany. Adorning his Vicerin uniform was an array of gold brocade and a pair of gleaming medals. He glared down at Stown as his mount champed restlessly.
    â€œCaptain Gandrell,” Stown muttered. “I wondered when you’d show up.”
    â€œI have been here all along,” said Gandrell. His piercing green eyes flicked to Elodie. “Princess, are you in good health?”
    Elodie knew she was gaping, but she couldn’t help it. Captain Gandrell had been a familiar figure throughout the thirteen years she’d lived at Castle Vicerin. If he wasn’t drilling soldiers in the battle yard, he was standing watch on one of the towers or consulting with Vicerin himself in the council chamber.
    A face from my former life, she thought faintly. The first I’ve seen since being taken from Ritherlee.
    With a deep breath, she gathered herself. “I am very well, Captain Gandrell,” she said. “What kept you?”
    The thin man’s eyes remained unreadable. They always had been. Elodie remembered Gandrell as being tough on his troops but always entirely fair. “ There is no straighter arrow than Gandrell ,” Lord Vicerin had said once.
    Will he be fair now?
    â€œYou will ride with me, if it pleases you,” Gandrell said.
    â€œShe’ll ride with me,” said Stown, with the tone of a petulant child. “Lord Vicerin put me in charge of the mission, or had you forgotten?”
    Captain Gandrell regarded him, stony-faced, then turned his attention back to Elodie. “I have orders—that is to say Sergeant Stown and I have orders—to take you straight to Lord Vicerin. This we will do, as soon as we have dispatched the rest of the Trident rabble.”
    â€œNo!” cried Elodie.
    Gandrell raised an eyebrow. “Which aspect of these orders does not please you, Princess?”
    â€œI’ll come with you. But there can’t be any more killing.”
    Stown snorted.
    â€œI have my orders,” said Gandrell. “None are to be spared. This is Lord Vicerin’s wish.”
    Elodie looked out across the clearing. The men and women who’d fought beside her—fought for her—knelt defeated, their faces exhausted and empty.
    Fessan’s head was still hanging, which meant she couldn’t see his face at all.
    â€œBut they’re no threat,” she insisted, aware of the panic in her voice. “Look at them. They’re tired and hungry and injured. They’re—” Elodie searched for a phrase