Surrounded on All Sides

**James’s Perspective**


The air around the camp was thick with tension as the sun dipped below the horizon. I stood at the edge of the ridge, gazing out over the darkening landscape. The wind tugged at my cloak, but my eyes remained fixed on the distant tree line where Alec’s forces lay camped, ominously silent.

They had arrived just before dawn, a massive army was positioned to encircle us, but they had not attacked. Not yet. It was a message, a display of power meant to shake us, but I knew Alec too well. Isabella’s cousin was not the type to strike first. He preferred to toy with his prey, to slowly tighten the noose until fear cracked our resolve. Psychological warfare was his way. Mark approached quietly, his face drawn.

“They have not made a move all day,” he said, his voice low.
“They will not, not until Alec is ready.”
“They are waiting for something.”
“They are waiting for us to break.”

“We have enough supplies for a few more days,” he said, the tension in his voice growing.
“After that, if they keep blocking the routes—”
“I know,” I cut him off, turning to face him.

My expression remained calm, but the weight of the situation pressed heavily on me. Our forces were strong, but morale was fragile, and Alec’s army vastly outnumbered ours. I could not risk a full-scale confrontation. Not with Isabella so far away. Not with the burden of her child—my brother’s child—weighing on my mind.

“How long can we hold out?”

I did not answer immediately. My eyes drifted back to the horizon, the distant shadows where Alec’s soldiers lurked. They were waiting, watching. Desperation was their ally, and Alec would pounce the moment it set in. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword, fingers tightening around the cold steel. Alec’s mocking laughter echoed in my mind, his strategy seeping in like a slow poison.

“As long as we need to,” I finally said, my voice firm.”
“Alec is trying to provoke you.”
“He wants you to make the first move, rush in without thinking.”

I nodded, acknowledging the truth of his words. Alec expected me to act out of fear or frustration. He wanted me to crack under the pressure, but I would not give him that satisfaction. No, my plan was to wait. To let Alec think we were trapped, to give him the illusion of control.

“Have you spoken to Isabella?”


A knot formed in my chest at the mention of her name. I exhaled, trying to push the thoughts of her from my mind.

“Not since the encirclement,” I said curtly.
“She knows what is happening.”
“She would want to know more—”
“She has her battles to fight,” I interrupted, more sharply than intended.

Silence settled between us. Mark was right, Isabella deserved to know the situation. I knew what she would say. She would tell me to retreat, to avoid a fight. Worse, she would try to come here herself, despite the danger. I couldn’t afford to have her distracted. Not now, when Alec was waiting for a single misstep.

A shout from the camp broke the stillness. My head snapped toward the sound. A group of my men stood near the edge of the camp, pointing toward the tree line. There, faintly outlined against the twilight, Alec’s soldiers were moving, shifting positions, but still not advancing.

“They are playing with us,” Mark muttered, his hand drifting toward his sword.

My muscles tensed, every instinct urging me to charge, to strike first. I held back. This was Alec’s game, pushing us, provoking us, waiting for us to act out of desperation. Charging now would be walking into his trap.


“Hold the men,” I ordered, my voice cold and steady.
“No one engages.”
“Not until I give the command.”

“Are you sure about this?”
“If we fight now, we are playing into Alec’s hands.”
“Let him think we are cornered.”
“We wait.”

Mark did not argue, though I could see the unease in his expression. He turned to relay my orders while I stood alone on the ridge. I knew the risks. Every hour we waited gave Alec more time to tighten his grip. If we moved too soon, we would be walking into slaughter.

The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional rustle of armor and the low murmurs of my men. They were scared, and rightfully so. Alec’s army loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, led by a man who would not stop until we were crushed. I remained firm, my eyes never leaving the enemy lines.

Isabella... her name echoed in my mind, my heart heavy with unspoken fears. I had promised to protect her, to stand by her side. With Alec closing in, I wondered if I had already failed. A sharp whistle pierced the air. My hand went to my sword instinctively as a lone figure emerged from the tree line, draped in black, carrying a small banner. The man stopped at the ridge’s edge, just beyond our archers’ range. My pulse quickened as I narrowed my eyes.

“A messenger.”

Mark returned to my side.

“Should I send someone down?”
“No,” I said, my gaze fixed on the figure.
“I will handle it.”

I descended the ridge, the cold wind biting at my skin. The messenger stood motionless, face hidden beneath a dark hood, but I could feel the weight of his gaze.

“What does Alec want?”

The figure lifted his head slightly, revealing cold eyes beneath the hood. His voice dripped with mockery.

“Alec sends his regards, my lord.”
“He offers you one final chance to surrender.”
“Your forces are surrounded, your defeat inevitable.”
“The king has been merciful so far.”


My jaw clenched as I gripped the hilt of my sword.

“Tell Alec his mercy means nothing to me.”

The messenger smiled a sickly, twisted grin.

“Very well.”
“The king does not offer second chances.”
“When the noose tightens, there will be no escape.”
“Let him tighten it.”

The messenger dipped his head in a mock bow before turning and vanishing into the shadows. The noose was tightening, but fear had not touched me yet. War was coming. I would be ready.