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BLOOD RAVEN’S LAST BATTLE PRINCE
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Vortimer’s sardonic impudence marked meandering lines of sweat along his unshaven jaw while his bloodshot ice blue eyes focused only upon his father’s. Vortimer’s resolve hardened as he observed that not one heated word breathed from his lips gave his father pause.

Opening the heavy doors, Vortimer paused for several fleeting seconds. It suddenly struck fierce like fiery white bolts of lightning. . .

This would be the last he’d ever see his
father. . .the last he’d ever see.

Turning to the Saxon guards, Vortimer caustically jeered, “What are you guarding? Better it be you protect yourselves, for the crown ni longer rests upon his head but upon mine!”

Foolishly, Vortimer challenged his father with no Celt warrior at his side, his willful pride impervious to his father’s daunting strength.