Ryan stumbled, dragged to the side by connected chains. The cold earth crunched beneath his boots. His eyes stayed low. Silent. Brooding.
"Where are we being taken?" a girl asked, her voice trembling.
"To the center of the Great Wilderness," muttered a short boy with moss-green hair, barely louder than the wind. "They want to use us as hostages."
Ryan didn't respond. But in the silence that followed, his thoughts sharpened like blades.
Not just hostages. These giants probably want to use us to boost their own army's morale. We are princes for fucksake. This is totally a race war. I need to escape before I become a banner of morale for either side.
But how can he escape?
The person taking him was absolutely not weak. That giant had killed Black Thorn so easily. It was at least much stronger than Seraphina—and probably stronger than even Barbezz, Ryan's butler.
