Viktor: Heart of Her King by Julia Mills Page B

count. The greaves and breast plates of their uniforms were also bronze and fit over stiff leather that matched the shin and forearm guards each man wore. The crack and clash of their bronze helmets broke through the roar of the fighting as the different colored plumage signifying their allegiance floated to the blood-soaked ground.
    In the distance, she saw a squadron of men marching side-to-side, their shields locked together. Spears strategically jutted through the infantry line as they protected their supreme commander and his generals while they issued battle plans.
    For a split second, the advancing battalion disappeared behind a ridge in the landscape. As they reappeared, the man on horseback leading the charge came into view. There was no mistaking those chiseled features, the strong line of his jaw, or the laser sharp focus of his obsidian eyes.
    Even as her mind balked at the irrefutable image, Kat’s heart knew it was him . It was Viktor. She tried to reason that the officer was his ancestor. That her thoughts of him were somehow clouding her vision. But those were feeble attempts to reconcile what was right before her versus the impossibility of the same exact face being on two people.
    “Halt!”
    The barked command was the last piece of the puzzle. It was impossible for Kat not to believe, no matter how fantastic it might seem, that she was indeed looking at the man who made her body burn.
    The scene changed. She was in a courtroom. There were men in tunics fastened with pins and brooches at the right shoulder and olive branch wreaths around the back of their heads. She knew they were the Law Givers from long ago. Kat had loved Ancient History in school, specifically that of the Greeks and Athenians. She debated the foreshadowing of that fact while watching a prisoner being led to the raised dais at the front of the room.
    His tunic was tattered and torn, his back a mass of long fiery wounds, some still bleeding, while others oozed the unmistakable yellow puss of infection. A single tear rolled down her cheek when the prisoner turned to face the court. Even with bruises marring his impeccable complexion and his long hair greasy and matted with his own blood, Viktor stood tall. There was a glint in his eyes that assured he would not bow to his accusers.
    The charges of treason and dereliction of duty were read. The crowd jeered, screaming their disbelief at the travesty before them. By all accounts, Viktor was their hero. No one believed he would do what he was accused of.
    Bjorn was there, leading the prosecution. He and his witnesses told the same tale over and again, swearing that Viktor, Viktoras in this case, had taken bribes from their enemies and left his men to die horrible deaths on the battlefield. Thankfully, but not before the damage had been done, Viktor’s supporters took the stand.
    She recognized some of the men she’d met at Sanguinem. It was all starting to fall into place. These men had known each other for ages...literally. Kat knew without a shadow of a doubt what she was watching had really occurred. It was inconceivable, totally something out of a Twilight Zone episode, but in her heart of hearts, there was no doubt it was real.
    Lastly, Bain took the stand. Interestingly enough, aside from Roman, he was the only man who’d kept his given name all these years later. Bain gave impassioned testimony about Viktor off the battlefield. More tears wet Kat’s face. Viktor was a good man, which made listening to the Law Givers pronounce him guilty all the more heartbreaking.
    Another venue switch and Kat was transported to a scorching mountaintop in the heat of the day beside a dying Viktor. His wrists and ankles were tied to posts. His eyes swollen shut from the sun. His lips as dry as the sand on the beach below them. And his skin blistered and raw from the elements.
    Using his last breath, he wheezed a prayer to Zeus asking the Father of the Gods to show favor upon his men and a promise