Time was of the essence.

The mounting confusion swept through the castle as Titus pushed his way through the scared masses, his mind fixated only on one thing: finding her.

The women and children had been placed in the turret, and each step he took brought him closer to the panic oozing from the high tower.

They are terrified, he realized. They haven’t a clue we are all about to be saved.

But were they? How could they know for certain? Titus had no reason to trust in Opal or her teachings. Her reputation preceded her, after all.

No matter how she claims we have a common enemy, she is not worthy of good faith.

She was a source of curiosity, an abomination, not someone schooled in the art of war. Yet, if what she had told them was true, she was the only chance they had. In any case, Titus was outnumbered. His brothers had spoken. Opal was permitted to do her magic.

“Your Highness, what is happening?” Corinne cried, grabbing his arm as her small daughter clung to the hem of her skirts, their eyes an identical shade of blue terror.

“Not now,” he told his cousin. “I must find Isabella.”

“But Titus—”

Titus ignored her, knowing that it was cruel to keep the women in the dark, but the others were not his concern at the moment. All he cared about was finding his beloved.

He saw her sitting near one of the high windows, surrounded by young faces, her comely cheeks etched in serenity as though the realm was not in a state of chaos. As Titus neared, he paused, the crowded space seeming to disappear while he studied her stunningly lovely expression, her lips appearing to move slowly as time lost traction.

An intricate headdress covered her reddish-blonde curls, nary a strand out of place despite the cramped quarters. Her face seemed unusually porcelain, crystalline emerald eyes glittering as her rosebud mouth uttered words Titus could not make out. He knew whatever she spoke was creating comfort among the castle’s children, who seemed captivated by every word springing from her pink lips. Her gown was a deep blue, a flattering color for her fairness, dipping low at the front to expose the swell of her ample bosom beneath the kirtle and falling into a flowing mass from the waist to the filthy floor of the turret.

Isabella looked up and met his eyes, the soft smile freezing on her lips, as if seeing the reluctance in his gaze.

I needn’t speak. She can sense the danger we face.

Of course, it would be difficult not to recognize the peril they faced when the Northmen were so close, their options seemingly hopeless.

Titus raised a hand to wave her closer, his fur cloak parting at the gold forged clasp. Isabella nodded slowly, reassuringly patting the children on their worried faces as she slipped away to join him. Titus could hear their cries of protest, followed by his lover’s assurances that she would return shortly.

“I will come back,” she explained, “and I will tell you the tale of the bear and the beauty.” They haltingly allowed her to leave, casting Titus spiteful looks for taking away the fair maiden who had succeeded in distracting them from their fears. “What is it, my lord?” Isabella whispered as she neared him. “Have you come here to prepare me for death?”

The words stabbed through Titus like a thousand blades to his heart.

“Come with me,” he ordered her, grasping her hand and pulling her from the overcrowded tower.

“Titus, what is it?” she begged, her voice rising an octave as she recognized the seriousness on his face. “We will not be saved, will we? You have come here—”

“Hush now, my little dove,” he told her tenderly, pulling her down the stairs to rest upon the center landing. They slipped into the corner, and Titus gathered her in his arms, his grey eyes bright with worry and love as he stared into her face. “We might be saved,” he said. “The castle and the entire kingdom.”

Hope colored Isabella’s cheeks, and she dropped her head against his chest.

“Oh, praise the heavens,” she mumbled. “Who is it? Who has come to aid us?”

“Opal,” Titus said. “It is Opal who will save us…” He did not add his doubts about the matter, even though they threatened to spill from his lips. I must not worry Isabella. She must have faith in us and our plan.

“Opal?” Isabella echoed. “She is a witch, Titus! How can she save us?”

“She has arranged to put the castle under a spell, keeping us safe until the threat of the Northmen has passed,” he explained. “It is only temporary, but we must be prepared for three days of changes.”

Isabella stared at him, her jade eyes shocked.

“You have agreed to a curse upon our heads?” she gasped. “You have sold us to a witch?”

A flash of anger coursed through Titus.

“We have not been sold!” he snapped. “She has come to us to help!”

“Then you have merely given us away, souls and all!”

“It is the only way to keep us safe!” Titus insisted. “You must not fret, Isabella.”

“I will not stand by while a witch casts a curse upon us!” she protested, and Titus grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes glittering.

“You will do as you are told. Return to the turret while Opal prepares to lay the shroud of protection over the kingdom. I will come for you when the war is over.”

“Titus—”

“You will not argue!” he growled. “Back to the turret with the others!”

Isabella lowered her eyes. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered, turning away.

Titus seized her, guilt touching his heart. She is afraid. She is skeptical. I must show her there is nothing to fear. He dropped his full mouth against hers, and she accepted his kiss.

“Please,” Isabella whispered. “Please do not allow Opal to do whatever it is you have agreed to do.”

“Back to the turret now,” he ordered. “It will all be over soon.”

Isabella cast him one last look, her green eyes wide with misty emotion.

“Goodbye, my love,” she murmured, gathering her skirts to disappear up the stone stairs.

It is not goodbye, he thought angrily, watching her go, but even at that moment, Titus could not suppress the sensation that her words were ominous.