Oliver
'What's the hurry, witch?' he sneers. 'Off to see your old warlock
hmmm? You do realize that I decide who goes in and out of my castle. I
could have you burned at the stake. Would you like that?'
You grit your teeth to stop yourself from hitting him. 'It is your
father's decision who enters his castle, and he says that anyone can
visit, so long as they are not armed.
'Pah,' he snorts, tossing his head dismissively. 'My father is a fool.
I can bend him easily to my will. And are you not armed with the magic
that is in your blood?'
'Are not you yourself armed with the same magic, Oliver?'
'Oh no, Kate,' he murmurs threateningly, leaning close to you. His
breath is hot like fire and his golden eyes search your mind. 'I am
armed with something far more sinister.
You are almost at the castle when some-one steps out in front of you.
You stop abrubtly, for it is Oliver, the king's son.
