A horn sounded in the distance, announcing the arrival of royalty. The women stilled and looked between each other.
‘Are we to endure one of Prince Borin’s speeches before they’ll open the gate?’ Lyndal asked. ‘More people will die while waiting for him to finish.’
Blake attempted a smile. ‘How else will we know who to thank when that portcullis goes up?’
Candace walked ahead of them. ‘Let us hope this speech does not end in bloodshed like last time.’
‘We still have Father’s bow,’ Blake mumbled, lifting her sister into her arms with a groan.
Candace tutted her remark.
They left the house and stepped down onto the street, joining the slow trickle of people emerging from hibernation. No one looked up anymore. People had disconnected from each other out of necessity. Better not to notice the bodies being carried from the houses. Better not to see their own desperation mirrored back at them.
Better not to feel anything at all.
Up ahead, Blake saw two defenders walking towards them. They were easy to spot amid a sea of walking corpses, their frames solid and their heads impossibly high. They entered the houses on either side of the road, no doubt checking to ensure everyone was accounted for. Apparently Prince Borin wanted a big audience.
Blake’s breathing grew laboured. Every time Eda coughed, it would throw her balance.
‘Do you want me to take her for a bit?’ Lyndal asked.
Blake looked at her ghost of a sister. Her hair was a mess of brassy strands around her wasting face. She knew Lyndal would not make it five steps. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I see Commander Wright,’ her mother said, pointing ahead.
Blake almost tripped at the mention of him. She searched the growing crowd, her chest tightening when she caught sight of him. It was the closest she had been to him in over two months. He had always been atop the wall, completely out of reach. Now if she continued straight, she would be face to face with him.
‘Are you all right?’ Lyndal asked. ‘Can you not continue?’
Blake looked at her sister, then down at her feet. She had not even realised she had stopped walking. Her eyes returned to Harlan, fearing he would disappear if she lost sight of him. She need not have worried, because those bronze eyes of his were fixed on her as he headed towards them. She reminded herself to breathe, to remain calm, to not cry.
She most definitely would not cry.
She tried to think of some sensible first words, but he was in front of her before she could gather her thoughts, eyes moving over her at a frantic pace. She could feel his relief and heartbreak all at once. It would have been a shock to see her so thin. He blinked away his pity, eyes settling on Eda, whose feverish face rested against Blake’s collarbone.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ he asked, stepping closer.
His scent took over the air for a moment. It was such a welcome relief from the stench of death that had settled in the borough.
Blake inhaled deeply. ‘She has a fever and a cough.’
‘It’s sounding like pneumonia,’ Candace added.
Harlan took Eda from Blake’s arms and settled her against his chest. The sudden absence of weight made Blake tilt, but Harlan managed to grab hold of her.
‘Can you walk?’ he asked.
She nodded.
The women followed slowly behind Harlan, whose steps were too fast and strides too long for them. Blake’s eyes never left him. She drank in the sight of him, strong and healthy. It was unfathomable given the state of the merchants surrounding him. She was grateful though. It felt like one small win after months of losses.
When they reached the square, Blake looked up at the defenders evenly spaced along the wall. It took her a moment to spot Prince Borin because he was so heavily guarded. Astin stood directly in front of him, hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes moving in all directions.
Harlan tried to place Eda on her feet, but her knees buckled and the coughing started. People around them took a step away.
‘Put her on my back,’ Blake said.
Harlan shook his head. ‘She’s too heavy for you. Put her between the two of you.’
