The Morrell brothers moved with utmost wariness as they drew close to the iron-shod gates of the Merian keep. By all the hells, it seemed a bitter madness that their native home now wore the grim image of hostile soil, could fortune turn its wheel so swiftly?
A towering guard with hair like pitch and eyes of cold silver, standing watch at the entrance alongside his fellow, advanced to bar their path. "The Morrells?" he demanded in a low, gravel-rough rumble.
Bahram inclined his head to the silver-eyed watchman. "Aye. Word reached us from the prince, no, the king, that our sister had been brought to these halls."
The tall guard stared hard into Bahram's face before turning to cast a sharp signal to raise the gates. The four brothers urged their horses slowly through the yawning portal and into the courtyard, so many moons had passed since last they trod these stones that the entire place felt strange and foreign to their eyes.
