Lord Adrian's gaze turned steely as he met his son's glare. "And if we stay, we will perish."
He pointed toward the shuttered window, where the muffled cries of dying soldiers seeped in with the cold air.
"The imperial knights outside aren't common foot soldiers. They're carving through our men like wheat before the scythe."
He took a slow step toward his eldest. "Do you understand what that means? If they take us alive, you and I will be executed—drawn, quartered, made examples of. Your brother too. Our line will be wiped from history." His voice dropped, grave. "Your sisters, however… if they are captured, their fates will be worse than death. Made into pawns for the emperor."
Ian's breath hitched, the fight in his eyes wavering. But still, his pride refused to yield. "Then we fight!" he snapped. "Even if we fall, we—"
A sharp crack echoed through the room. Evelyne had stepped forward and slapped him across the face.
