“Watch out!” I called. The man’s head twisted to the side, wary of some attack. Seeing nothing of danger, he took another step forward with a confused look.
With a small crunch, the tiny bird’s suffering ended.
“Miss Della,” the man said, “may I have a word with the young lady?”
“You killed him,” I said softly as Della’s hand released me. Again the man appeared puzzled.
“Who?” he asked.
I pointed at his foot. “You stepped on him.”
He raised his foot and examined the bloody mess of feathers under it. “Oh. Sorry.”
I tried to hold back the tears. For the most part, I was successful. “You had something to say to me?” I said in a voice that wavered only slightly.
“Yes,” he said. “My name is Strin, and I come with grim news. Your father was grievously wounded this morning while hunting boar in the northern forests.”
My mouth went dry, and all thoughts of the bird were pushed out of my head. “My father?” I whispered.
Strin nodded. “We only just arrived back at the palace. I was asked to find you and bring you to him.”
“Of course. Lead the way.” Thoughts flashed through my head as we left Della behind and made our way through the palace. The fear and panic were expected, but what surprised me were the thoughts of succession. If my father died, I would only be two steps away from taking the throne of Attarnon myself.