Free Renegade Heart by Kay Ellis

reached the gates she was relieved to see two guards she did not recognise. If they did not frequent the whore house then they would have no reason to question her story.
    Three wagons ahead of the girls, Rixley shared a joke with the guards and left them still smiling as he drove his wagon through the gates. Not once did he glance back to where the whores waited their turn among the wagons leaving the city.
    Eventually, they passed through the gates without incident, the guards blithely accepting Magnosa’s tale of leaving a number of girls behind at the whore house while she took extra girls to the outpost to service the brave soldiers fighting the renegade forces. It was fortunate also, that the guards were distracted by a scuffle between two traders further back in the queue and waved Magnosa through the gates without even a cursory look in the back of the wagon.
    Once clear of the city, Hawk was allowed out from his hiding place and he sat close to his mother, his eyes wide with wonder at the sight of the rolling country side. The girls too were strangely subdued, perhaps realising their future was anything but certain and there was no going back now that they had come this far.
    Further along the road, Rixley waited for them, having agreed after much persuasion to lead them to the renegade camp.
    “Assuming it’s still there,” he warned grimly. “I heard a couple of traders talking at the inn last night. They said there was a mighty battle between the renegades and the King’s Army, with many dead or captured.”
    “Not Wolf,” Enola said with quiet confidence. “I would know if he was dead. Wherever he is, Wolf is alive. I can feel it.”

A long time ago The King’s City had been known as Barrowhearth. It had changed its name when the current King, Ombar, had overthrown his brother and taken the thrown for himself, making Barrowhearth his home. Like The Walled City, the entire city was surrounded by a high stone wall, but, because The King’s City was considerably larger than its counterpart, it had more than one guarded entrance. The castle itself stood on a hill in the centre of the city, circled by a second impenetrable wall.
    Deep beneath the castle lay the dungeon, a large chamber with a low ceiling and damp running down the walls. The humid air reeked of sweat and urine. Conditions were not improved by the arrival of one hundred and thirty renegades in addition to the forty or so prisoners already in residence.
    “At least it won’t be for long,” Saker remarked dryly. “They will be doing us a favour by hanging us.”
    “Don’t be so sure,” one man called out. “I’ve been here for five turns.”
    “I’ve been down here for twelve,” another said. “And the bastards still won’t hang me.”
    “Fifteen turns for me,” a third man said. “And that lot over there, they reckon they’ve been here for nigh on thirty turns.”
    He indicated a group of ten older men stood together at the far end of the dungeon. The men stared back, regarding the newcomers with a mixture of curiosity and dismay. Wolf could only imagine how it would feel to be imprisoned for thirty turns and then be invaded by so many renegades.
    With nothing to do but wait, the men settled on the damp stone floor, some of them even managing to fall onto an uneasy sleep. Saker and Wolf moved among them, offering what little comfort they could, even though they too were exhausted and despondent.
    Wolf felt eyes upon him and turned to find the group of old men watching him. He met their gaze steadily hoping there would be no trouble in these cramped quarters. Warily, he allowed one of the men to approach, noting that thirty turns underground had done nothing to lessen the man’s distinguished stature. If he had not known better the young renegade would have thought he was having his first encounter with nobility.
    “Well met, Renegade,” the man said, his voice low and even. “I am Trobard.”
    “Well met, Trobard,”