Chapter 15. The Decision
Eachan dropped a heavy metal bar across the frame of the door, then leaned against it, breathing heavily.
Duana helped Aloren to her feet—the poor girl had been flung to the floor—and looked at her father with concern.
“What is it?”
“The villagers. Something is wrong.” He stepped away from the door, thinking. “We need to fortify the town hall. I’ve got the feeling this attack will escalate and we’ll need all the protection we can get.” He turned to look out the window through the bars, but jumped back when the people rushed the porch and pounded on the glass.
“Father?” Duana moved to open the drape.
“Step back at once. Grab that table, both of you. Bring it over here and put it against the window.”
Eachan strode to another table, then, grunting, dragged it in front of the door. He barked orders as he ran into the kitchen, verifying that the entryway there was closed. “Check every window and door—make sure there isn’t an accessible opening.” He pushed a heavy shelf in front of the kitchen door, then turned to survey the room. Thank goodness they’d stocked up on enough food to last them at least two years. He didn’t know where the Lorkon got it, but it didn’t matter.
He met Duana and Aloren in the front room again.
“How will we feed them?” Duana asked.
Eachan shook his head. “I don’t know. But they’re dangerous now.”
Fear crossed Duana’s face. “Why? They’ve never acted like this before!”
Eachan glanced at Aloren, frowning in concentration. “Things will be all right. We just have to take extra precautions.”
Which would be more cruel? Allowing the villagers to tear Aloren’s soul and body apart, forcing her to live as they did? Or giving her to the Lorkon?
He didn’t listen to Duana’s response to his comment. He needed privacy—time to himself to think and figure out what to do. He strode from the front room and upstairs into his quarters, where he sat at his desk. He stared at the wall in front of him, then put his head in his hands, groaning in misery and indecision.
He had to do something about Aloren, and fast. Before the villagers got in, which they most certainly would.
Eachan rubbed his eyes. What to do?
His wife’s beautiful face flashed through his mind, followed by the unspeakable things she’d experienced at the hands of the townspeople. Duana hadn’t turned away in time. She’d seen it all.
Tears leaked from his eyes at the sudden memory. It was nearly more than he could handle. He wept for his wife, for the pain she’d endured. He wept for Duana and her loneliness. And he even wept for Aloren.
Then he sat up as realization hit. The Lorkon wouldn’t kill Aloren. They wouldn’t—he was sure of it. And if he told them how Aloren felt about Jacob, they wouldn’t torture her either. They’d keep her in their castle and wait for Jacob to come rescue her.
Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? He shook his head, frustrated with himself. He’d allowed Duana’s friendship with Aloren to cloud his judgment. But no more.
Eachan dried the tears from his face and grabbed a container he hadn’t touched in a long time. Resolve removed any regret or remorse he’d felt.
The time to take charge of his situation had arrived.
Kilenya Series Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 94