Hi y'all!

Firstly, thank you again to Lisa for her beta. She's really helped get this story back on its feet and I'm very grateful to her for her championing of it.

Secondly, I want to state that I am fully aware of the physical limitations that a woman endures when she is heavily pregnant (I've been in that position myself several times.) I've tried very hard to ensure that the scenes in this chapter reflect Lorelai's condition while remembering that survival (and protecting one's child) is an extraordinary motivator. Mama Bear is not a joke.

Thirdly, THANK YOU for reviewing! I am so excited to be back at this and your reviews are a massive motivation. I'm very grateful to each of you for the alerts, favorites and reviews.

Lastly, I'm on a huge road trip across the USA with five kids – might be mid-July before there's another update, but please know I am working daily on it and will publish it as quickly as I can.

THANK YOU! Here we go…

Dead Man Walking

Fletcher sat quietly inside of the Prince of Starkhaven's large reception room, his uneasy stomach causing him to scowl. He'd made his decision, and despite his immediate sense of dissatisfaction with it, he'd decided to stick with it.

His stomach could go to the Void if it couldn't see good reason.

Sighing, he resolutely ignored the sense of loss he felt, since it was ridiculous, after all, to feel this way when he'd never been the court healer to begin with. He could hardly mourn for something he'd never enjoyed.

A guard hurried into the hall, and while he made an attempt at maintaining decorum, there was no mistaking the sense of urgency in his gait.

This, of course, and the fact that this was the second guard to so do in the last half hour, held absolutely no interest to Fletcher, as he was not the court healer and had decided never to be.

It was a good choice, he reminded himself as his eyes followed the progress of the guard. A good choice for several reasons, the first of which being that he had no interest in returning to the Circle. That the prince had explained his goals for the formation of one was irrelevant; Fletcher was a free man and he'd be a lunatic to give that freedom up.

Except he wasn't quite so free, given he had to hide who he really was, before shaking his head. No, he'd made his decision, and the fact that he would be able to live openly and resume his studies and his life's work wouldn't sway him.

Blinking slowly, he paused, a thought striking him with a jolt.

But what if this was it? His last chance to return to his craft? Which would be more distressful? Living in the shadows outside the Circle, or living inside it, his choices restricted, but doing what he loved most?

Wasn't each choice equally confining in its own way?

His ponderings were subsequently halted by a loud thud, the side door to the chamber smacking against the wall behind it. Fletcher leapt to his feet as he realized it was the prince who'd thrown it open and was now striding towards him at a quick pace, a bevy of nobles and servants at his heels.

"Ser! We're no' finished! Ye canna mean tae throw out such accusations an' leave us!" cried one finely dressed older man. "I will no' be ignored!"

The prince didn't respond, his piercing blue eyes instead locking onto Fletcher. "You're with me!" he ordered, pointing at the mage, his tone leaving no room for Fletcher to hesitate as he strode past. "MacLeod, you're dismissed!" he then snarled, not bothering to look back at the nobleman.

The older man came to a halt, his face red with anger, hate flashing in his beady brown eyes. Two of the royal household's pages stopped with MacLeod, flanking the man to prevent further pursuit of the prince.

Fletcher, who'd shot to his feet at the prince's command, was both baffled and excited at the same time. "Your Highness?" he asked as he jogged next to the man. "I, ah, I had hoped to speak to you about our earlier conversation."

The ruler of Starkhaven didn't reply, he instead continued quickly forward, striding down a narrow hall which led him, Fletcher and the few guard who'd been with them outside to a small courtyard.

Fletcher immediately recognized it was a stable yard. There were at least a dozen guards already mounted on horses and wearing not livery but battle armor. He saw two servants hurriedly dress the prince in an ornate set of armor, and felt panic bubble inside his chest.

"Bloody hell, what's happening?" Fletcher muttered as he stopped short.

"Seb! I'm here!" shouted a voice and Fletcher spun around, immediately recognizing the overly-tall man who'd called out to the prince as his aunt's former charge and current employer.

"Cam! We're to the west!" answered the prince as he swung up onto his mount. A stable lad passed up a longbow and a stocked quiver, the prince quickly slinging both around his torso. His horse danced beneath him, the animal sensing the tension of its rider.

The prince gathered the reins and turned his horse, again settling his gaze upon Fletcher. "Fletcher? Can ye ride?"

The mage nodded, stammering. "Ah, well, uh, yes, I can. Not well, and not in ages, but I can seat a horse in a pinch. Where are we going?"

"Bring him a horse!" the prince demanded and the stable boy darted off, arriving just a few moments later at Fletcher's side. "Yeoman! Tell the others tae follow the west road and tae ride hard. I will no' wait any longer!"

Fletcher, who was being given a foothold by the stable boy who'd brought him his steed, quickly found his seat. Leaning low to take the reins from the lad, he whispered, "What's happening?"

The boy shrugged and softly answered. "I dinnae know, ser, somethin' about the princess."

"What about her?"

The boy shook his head. "Canna say, but I ken she an' the auld prince are late. I helped tae set their carriage earlier. Their guards, too."

"No one's back yet?"

"Nay, ser, no' a one o' them, no' even an outrider tellin' us tae expect them," he answered, then gestured to the prince. "Ye best make ready, ser."

With those words, the lad quickly stepped clear, pressing himself against the stone wall of the courtyard. Fletcher looked around him and saw that the guards riding with them had finished forming ranks and with the prince's command, the gate to the outside was thrown open.

"Oh, Maker's knickers, what have I got myself into?" Gulping loudly, Fletcher yelped and gripped his reins tightly as his horse surged forward, the prince having charged out the gate, leaving the guards and others to race behind him.

xXx

Lorelai opened her eyes, blinking slowly as she drew a shaky breath. Pain shot through her left arm and she cried out, falling back. She slowly rolled to her right, away from the pain. Steeling herself against the agony she knew would come, she moved and looked down her side, seeing that her elbow was turned in a horribly unnatural direction.

Fear sliced through her as she thought of the baby and she closed her eyes, trying to sense for any other injuries to her or the baby.

"Lassie?"

She shifted her weight, focusing intensely on her child, but felt nothing unusual about the baby's position.

"Lorelai?"

Gritting her teeth as pain coursed through her, she replied.

"Shh! Try and stay quiet, we don't know – oh, hell," she breathed, gasping as she spotted her companion. He was seated inside the broken door of the carriage, which now rested so that its front wheels were high in the air. His right thigh had something protruding from it. "Goran? Hold on, I'm trying to get to you," she panted as she grasped the cushion above her. She struggled to pull herself upright.

"Nay, ye best stay put," he grunted, his features pale with pain. "We've landed against a tree, from what I can tell."

She looked around her, realizing that he was right, seeing that the carriage must have cartwheeled into its position. Leaves and branches visible above them and a few of the thicker branches appeared to have punctured the body of the carriage itself. Her eyes darted back to Goran's leg and he nodded, having watched her deduce his injury.

"Just the leg?"

He nodded slowly.

"Alright, don't move. I think I can stand up, we need to know what's going on," she said softly. "We have to see – "

"The guards will – "

"The guards aren't here, or they'd be helping us. I think they're busy defending us, Goran. Or dead."

"Lass, the bairn… Maker have mercy," he groaned, his face twisted with pain. He blew out a long breath. "Ye need tae wait for our rescue."

Lorelai pulled herself up cautiously, bracing her knees beneath her before tentatively planting a foot against the back of the seat. She was now face-to-face with Goran's injured leg. It was bad.

"Woman, be still, I tell ye! Ye canna be doin' such – "

"Goran, do shut up," she panted, the pain in her arm, combined with the awkwardness of her belly, making her feel woozy. She steadied herself and met his eyes. "We both heard the guard before we crashed, I think we were being attacked. And we could still be in danger!"

"An' wha' do ye plan on doin' about it if we are?" he demanded sharply, immediately grabbing his leg in pain.

"Hold still, you don't know how bad that wound is!" she scolded as she turned her attention to the condition of the mostly destroyed carriage. "And I don't know yet, but waiting here like sitting ducks seems a very bad idea to me."

She reached above her head and grabbed a thick tassel of the curtains that were still attached to the front window, the one that now gave a view of the sky. Tugging it, she decided it was strong enough to hold her. She wound the tassel around her wrist and pulled, placing a foot against the back of the cushion and walking slowly up the interior of the carriage.

As she reached the opening above her, she dug the toes of her shoes into the back of the chair, using every ounce of strength she could muster to stand high enough to put her shoulders through the opening.

She could see around them, see the slope they'd ridden down, as well as the path of destruction their crash had caused. There were two dead guards nearby, the first the man who she and Goran had tried to save from falling earlier – his twisted form had clearly been trampled – and the other man was face down in the mud, three arrows protruding from his back.

"Lass? What do ye see?"

"Shh! It was definitely an attack, but by whom, I can't tell yet," she replied as quietly as she could. "I need to climb out, but I can't, I can't pull my legs up enough."

"Lorelai, the other door is broken, it's off its hinge. I can see it," Goran explained. "Perhaps ye could force it back, so it was tae open into the coach? Tha' would make a good foothold."

The muscles in her legs were burning from fatigue, her good arm was beginning to quiver from holding her position steady and she felt her abdomen spasm under the strain. She needed to either go up, or go down, otherwise she was going to fall. She carefully lowered herself back into the wreckage.

"How are you?" she asked him once she was steady. She studied him, concerned at his color. Glancing around him, she didn't see a great deal of blood, certainly not enough to account for his pallor. He had to have more substantial injuries he wasn't aware of.

She needed to get them out of there.

"Are ye… are ye sure the bairn is safe?"

"He won't be if we get trapped here, Goran. We're defenseless." She gave her attention to the opposite door, its frame partly buckled around it, the door forced backwards into the body of the coach. "Goran, you're a genius! This will put me high enough above the window that I can sit above it and climb out."

"Assumin' yer able tae – " he paused, coughing softly, " – squeeze through."

She grasped the knob of the door with her good hand and began to drag it into position. "The same question applies to you, ser."

The older man snorted. "Such cheek, how ma cousin stands it… "

They were both quiet as she worked on creating an awkward ladder of broken parts, but she did so as quickly as she could. A moment or two later, she was able to make the climb, her balance heavily impaired by her pregnancy, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized would she fit through the window.

Gracelessly, she climbed down the fractured body, being as careful of her baby as she could be, getting several cuts and scrapes along the way. Once her feet were firmly on the dirt, and her balance found, she moved to where Goran could be seen.

She covered her mouth with her hand, not wanting him to hear her gasp as the explanation of his coloring revealed itself. Goran wasn't just impaled on the tree, he had a large shard of glass lodged in his back, along with several other pieces stabbed into his back and buttocks. He must have gone through the window of the door when they'd crashed into the tree.

"Damn it," she cursed softly. "Oh, no." She shook her head, then looked up to speak to him. "Goran? I think… I think we'll need some help to get you free," she said in the most even tone she could muster.

"Aye," came his muffled reply, as he wasn't able to move to face her. "Ye best be findin' some, lass, I'm feelin' poorly."

"Right, okay then, I'm going."

"And lass? I can see across the way, tae the edge of the hill, now tha' the other door is moved. I canna see much, but I dinna see our lads. I think ye had the right o' it, so be careful, do ye hear me? Sebastian will no'… "he paused for a moment, and she heard his breath come in huffs. "He'll no' forgive me if anything happens tae ye."

"It'll be fine, Goran. I'll be right back, you just… you just rest, okay?"

He didn't reply.

xXx

Sebastian led his men at a breakneck pace down the west road away from Starkhaven, his features hardened with purpose.

He'd held his wife in his arms just that morning, she'd been safe, next to him and now…

Every fiber of his being sensed Lorelai was in danger. He'd known, somehow, when his sergeant-at-arms had advised him that the princess's carriage and entourage had yet to return, that something was wrong. He'd tried to ignore his instincts, he'd reminded himself that any number of reasons could have delayed her return, but as his meeting with the Council had continued, he'd observed the tension of his guards, he'd seen their distraction and he knew their thoughts were aligned with his.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. And he'd not hesitated a moment longer.

Now, as he pushed his horse to its limits, he charged down the road, desperate for some sign of her party. She and Goran had to have travelled this route to visit the village they'd been to, but there was nothing, no disturbance or…

His thoughts were forgotten as his eyes alighted on a subtle trail of trampled grass, grass that was waist high and ready for haying. Drawing his horse in, he scanned the area, searching for the signs of a carriage.

"Seb!" cried Cameron as he arrived at his friend's side. "What? What do ye see?"

Sebastian pointed to the trail. "There! That grass is bent, the dust from the road still sits on it! There's a slope downward beyond it, I can see tree tops."

Cameron looked around him, shaking his head. "But that could be – "

"It's a trail, and the damage to the grass is wide. I'm taking it."

"Seb, wait! Listen, if you're wrong, then we've lost time. Aye, maybe they're just late, but ye and I know it could be something else, pal."

The prince's eyes narrowed, fixed on the grass.

"Seb, if we split up here, ye and some of the men can search tha' field, while I take the others further west."

"Do it," Seb commanded and urged his horse forward, leaving Cameron behind him to sort out who would go where.

xXx

Lorelai quickly assessed her surroundings. A thick bramble bush surrounded them, almost forming a wall, and she realized that the carriage was slightly hidden within the thicket.

"Good, there's that at least," she breathed, hoping it would keep the helpless Goran concealed until she could secure aid. Looking up the slope, and back toward the road, she immediately set aside the idea of climbing to it. First, she had no idea what was at the top of the slope; second, she couldn't risk slipping down it, not with only one good hand to catch herself with.

Glancing above her, she estimated the sun's position and began walking away from it, knowing she was walking east, toward the palace. If she could get far enough away without being caught by whoever had attacked them, then she would find a safe way to return to the road, where she had some hope of getting help for Goran.

"Oy! Oy!"

She spun on her heel, looking behind her, the carriage only a few dozen yards back, when she heard Goran shout again.

"We're in here, laddies! We're both in here!" he bellowed. "Hurry! The princess is hurt!"

She instantly knew Goran was warning her that whoever he could see approaching was a possible threat. He was bravely drawing them to him, rather than risk exposing her. She hid herself behind a tightly-woven clump of vines, trying to see who it was he'd called to, but as she did so, a wave of pain grabbed her middle.

"Oh!" she gasped, her hands twisting into the vines as the intensity of the pain increased. She clenched her teeth in agony.

Don't scream!

The muscles in her abdomen slowly unclenched and she felt a wave of relief. Releasing the vines, her focus returned, ignoring the spike of worry about the baby.

Searching the area, she saw the people in question. Three men, none of whom wore Starkhaven's colors, were quickly climbing down the hill, and all were well-armed. As she studied each person, she knew the third was a professional assassin, recognizing the style of his daggers and particular armor as those favored in the trade.

Everything made sense.

She froze for a moment, her mind racing, her eyes locked onto what she could still see of the carriage. Those men would kill Goran, she was certain of it. Going back could save him, they may spare him if they achieved their goal and complete their contract, a contract she knew must be on her.

She should go back. It was the right thing to do.

Or it used to be… except now she didn't have the luxury of choosing what was right. Did she really have to choose between her child's life and Goran's? Her nostrils flared as she drew a shaky breath and nearly threw up.

No, she couldn't go back. There was someone helpless and utterly innocent whose life mattered more than her morals and sense of honor. "Maker have mercy on you, Goran," she whispered, her heart breaking as she turned to flee.

xXx

Sebastian's horse set a quick pace, its rider's eyes locked onto the trail they were following through the grassy field. Rearing back slightly, the prince's mount drew up short.

"Whoa!" shouted Fletcher as his own horse nearly slammed into the prince's. He immediately spotted what had made the horse halt. "Oh bugger," he muttered, seeing the dead guardsman, his throat slit open. It was obvious the poor man was beyond help.

"You!" barked Sebastian, speaking to a soldier to his right. "Return to the road and get the other men! Tell Lord Avery to ride hard to us! Go!" he commanded as he took his bow into his hand. He nocked an arrow before turning to Fletcher. "You stay back, Fletcher. It's clear your services will be needed, so be smart and avoid the fighting. Understood?"

"Yes, I'll be careful."

With a curt nod, the prince urged his horse forward, using his legs to guide the well-trained animal as his bow remained at the ready. Starkhaven's soldiers drew their own weapons, following their liege through the field.

"I didn't take the job, did I? When did I take the job? I wasn't going to," Fletcher muttered softly to himself, his tone almost a whine. He looked up, realizing he was being left. "Oh bloody hell! Move your arse, Fletcher, or you'll be dead on the first day!"

xXx

Lorelai moved as quickly as she could through the tangled brush, the sharp thorns of the different vines and bushes catching at her skin and clothes. The pain in her middle had returned two more times, but she couldn't stop, she couldn't risk being discovered.

She didn't know if the baby was coming or if it was hurt, but as long as the men sent to kill her were out there, it didn't matter, either way. She had to get to safety.

"Here!" called out a voice unfamiliar to her. "Someone went this way!"

"Damn it!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder as she pushed on. She was too awkward in her size to move without leaving a significant trail, and clearly, they'd discovered it. She stopped, searching her surroundings for a weapon. She was too slow to outrun them; she'd have to fight.

Her eyes landed upon a wide and ancient oak tree, one whose massive branches spread out like gargantuan arms. There was a single branch low enough for her to possibly climb on, and as she followed the various directions the other branches took, she smiled, seeing that two of the largest were lower ones which were heavily obscured by hanging wild grape vines.

Those tracking her would see her trail's end and they'd likely guess at her choice to climb, but being above them would give her a tactical advantage, and it might be the only one she'd get. And there was also the slight chance that they'd simply continue with their search, never looking up and missing her altogether.

Her decision made, she searched quickly for the best foothold and, after an agonizing few seconds, was able to force her knee up into a junction in the branch. Her middle on fire, she bit her lip to keep from yelling as she lifted herself up.

It took a moment to steady herself, but she shifted her weight and began to crawl her way up the longest branch.

xXx

Sebastian swung off of his horse before it'd even drawn to a full stop. He'd ridden past several bodies of his young guardsmen and had offered a quick prayer for each. Whoever had attacked the royal party was skilled, and the body count entirely in their villainous favor, but now, as his eyes settled on the nearly destroyed carriage below him, he felt only panic.

"Lorelai!" he shouted, his bow clenched in his hand, the arrow lost, as he ran toward the wreckage. He slid down, nearly tumbling toward the carriage as the grass he was rushing through became slick beneath his boots.

His men at his side, they'd nearly reached the carriage when there was a shout and the man nearest to Sebastian dropped dead, an arrow through his eye.

"From there!" bellowed the prince, pointing to the left of the wreckage, where the arrow had come from. An arrow whistled past his head and he retaliated by shooting several rapid shots into the area, providing cover for his advancing men.

"Seb!" cried Cameron from the peak of the slope.

Sebastian heard his best friend ordering the men who'd arrived with Cameron down the grade and into combat. Within seconds, their attackers were revealed and killed, outnumbered and outmaneuvered by the soldiers.

Sebastian fell to his knees, searching the body of the first man before moving to the second. "Damn!" he hissed, as he pulled a blood-stained parchment from the man's armor. It was a sketching of Lorelai. "Damn!"

"Sebastian! Sebastian, come here!"

The prince shot to his feet, running in the direction of Cameron's call. His faithful friend was standing next to the tree which was propping up the carriage, his features tight with distress.

"Is she here?" Sebastian demanded, grabbing Cameron's arm. "Cam!"

"No, she, ah, she got away, pal. At least, she got away from here. No, it's Goran, he's in there. He's dying, he's nearly gone."

"Get the mage and send the others to start looking for Lorelai's trail," Sebastian commanded as he searched for a way to climb into the carriage. He quickly did so, lowering himself into the cab, his eyes on his elderly cousin.

"Goran, Maker have mercy, Cousin."

Goran's vivid blue eyes slowly opened and he blinked rapidly. He tried to speak but his words were almost too quiet to hear.

"Goran, save your strength. I've brought a healer with me, be easy."

The former ruler of Starkhaven shook his head, frowning. Mustering what little strength he had, he beckoned Sebastian to him.

"Please, rest, don't try to – "

"East," Goran breathed, his eyes locked with Sebastian's.

"Lorelai? Towards the city?"

"Aye."

"We killed two men, Cousin. Were there more? Was she hurt? Is she still in danger?"

Goran minutely shook his head. "Aye, three."

"Was she hurt?" Sebastian asked again, his tone urgent, knowing his cousin was running out of time. "Goran!"

Goran's breathing was wet sounding, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "Hel…help her."

Nodding, Sebastian gently placed his hands on his cousin's cheeks, cradling his face. "Ye were good to us, Cousin. Be at peace, the healer is coming."

"G… g…. go," Goran sputtered almost silently, his eyes closing.

There was loud motion above them on what was now the carriage's roof. Sebastian didn't look away from his dying cousin as Fletcher dropped down behind him.

The mage placed a firm hand on the prince's shoulder. "Let me see what can be done for him."

Sebastian nodded, stepping clear and granting Fletcher access to Goran.

"We're tae the east, Fletcher. I'll leave a few men here with ye."

Fletcher sighed. "No need, your Highness. I'm sorry, he's gone."

"Aye, I thought so. Let's go, my wife is out there alone and there's a man I need tae kill."

xXx

"That's rather impressive, your Highness," purred a man's voice. "I wouldn't have thought a woman so heavy with child could climb a tree."

Lorelai held still, knowing she wasn't fully visible tucked behind the grape vines. From her position, she could see the man she'd known was the assassin, and she watched as his eyes searched the tree's branches.

"I know you're up there," he said in a sing-song voice. "Come on, now, you're caught. Why fight the inevitable?"

He circled the base of the tree before he planted a boot on its base and hoisted himself up to the lower branch.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Shaking from the pain of her arm and her belly, she struggled to remain as still as she could.

"There's no help coming, my lady," the man continued as he chose another branch, now climbing higher than her position. "I heard some soldiers coming up behind us, so I sent back my two men. They'll make quick work of them, just as they did your guards. You're alone now. Nowhere to run."

She watched his assent and when he continued to climb up, she began calculating her escape. It would take him longer to safely get down from the tree than going up. Just a few more feet higher and she could try to flee.

Turning slowly, she gathered her tattered skirt and looked for the handholds she'd need to hurry down.

"Gotcha, Hawke," the man whispered menacingly and Lorelai looked up, startled to see that the assassin had somehow placed himself on the branch above her.

She scrambled away, nearly falling from the tree as she did so.

"Oh now, be careful! I'd hate for you to take a tumble," he taunted, dropping down to the branch she was on.

"Stay away from me!"

"No chance, I honor my commitments. Come here!"

"No!" she screamed as he lunged for her, but he grabbed her injured arm and jerked it.

She fell.

Her vision swam, her ears ringing as she gazed up, stunned and breathless, up into the massive canopy of the tree she'd been in.

"Why do you insist on being such a difficult bitch?" shouted her assassin as he dropped from the branch above, his booted feet landing on either side of her. "Do you have any fucking clue how hard it's been to orchestrate this? How much coin I've had to offer up?"

He spat on her and then raised a foot, bringing his heel down hard on her broken arm.

"Ah!" she shrieked.

"I should gut you for all the trouble you've cause me, cunt," he growled, drawing his daggers. "You're lucky I'm on a deadline, I won't have time to make it hurt. But I'll be needing something of yours to collect my pay." He ground his boot against her arm, making her scream in agony, and pinned her arm so he could grasp her hand. He jerked off her wedding ring and stepped back, smiling at his prize.

"Thanks. This should do."

His dropped down to his knees next to her, his dagger held high.

"No!" came a shout and the assassin leapt to his feet.

He then staggered back, his dagger dropped as he grasped at the arrow shaft protruding from his heart. Two more arrows slammed into him, the last into his forehead. He fell beside Lorelai, his eyes devoid of life.