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Arawyn shifted his ax in his hands and took another swing. The peaceful tête-à-tête between leaders had turned so quickly to violence, he’d almost let his guard down. He felt sorry for the young knight when his blade connected fully with his thigh. The boy looked younger even than his own son. He watched the lad crunch to the ground, screaming in agony.

And then, the six Nighthawks were surrounded. The rest of the Order of the Falcon charged in to join their brave leader at last.

He lifted his hands, knowing defeat inevitable. “We surrender! Please take pity on us for we are mere farmers and tradesmen, not trained warriors like yourselves.

The knights stopped their attack, waiting for a cue from their commander.

“Where is Jessica?” Braeden spat into the earth.

“As I explained, she is well cared for now that we rescued her. We did not want Her Majesty the Queen to murder her for a crime she did not commit. I know you care about her . . . We do too. We have much to gain from an alliance. Once again, I beg that we forge a treaty.”

Braeden caught the gaze of one of his fellow knights and jerked his head. The knight proceeded to bind each Nighthawk. “You will come with us to Zatar Palace so that you may pay for your crimes – that of kidnapping and treason against the Crown!”

Arawyn glanced at each Nighthawk member in turn. Reese had a sweetheart at home. Her young face looked stricken with terror.

And Awena. She had three adolescent daughters that needed her.

Rhodri and Siarl were young and strong. The Nighthawks had rescued them from the Queen’s court where they’d been tried for treason. But he knew they could commit no evil; they joined the Nighthawk force most passionately, showing kindness and loyalty to each and every member.

Cariad had a wife with a baby growing in her belly. He must be there to see his first child born.

“Take me.” Arawyn stepped forward. “And me alone for I am their chief and they have only done as I commanded.”

“You know I cannot.” Braeden struggled to his feet. Blood seeped from the rents in his armor.

“Please, Sir Braeden. You know Her Majesty will have us killed. These men and women have loved ones at home. Have you no compassion in your heart?”

Braeden scoffed, “What need have I for compassion when you are the murderers of my beloved?”