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Duke Gawain could not sleep. The storm slashed at the castle walls like an invading army its darkness threatening all in inside. Lightning lit the night quickly followed by the earsplitting clap of thunder heard loudly over the sound of the ravaging wind. Lying next to him in their bed Llyandrus slept soundly snuggling close to him exhausted from a long night of pleasure. Trying to relax he focused on her soft breathing with his hand on her naked chest feeling the rise and fall of her breasts and the steady beat of her heart. A heart that he knew beat full of love for him and their wonderful children his heart swelling at the thought of their love for each other.
Drifting slowly into the darkness of the storm, he lost track of what was nightmare and what was reality. He found himself standing on Old Bofin Bridge in front of the barbican in the wind driven rain. Suddenly, a searing flash of lightning struck one of the towers followed by a roar of thunder nearly deafening him. Standing in front of him is a pure white horse with amazing blue eyes filled with love and pure light. Searing pain slammed into his mind as another flash of lightning drew him back to his room as a specter floating above his bed. Lying on his bed, he could see himself and his beloved wife sleeping next to each other. Suddenly, a hand filled with a gleaming dagger plunged the blade deep into Llyandrus's sleeping form. Seeing the blood dripping from the ghastly wound, he screamed her name until the darkness of sleep overcame him.
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Games of the Powerful Page 81