Commander Wright signalled to the men atop the wall, prompting them to look down. Blake’s heart lodged in her throat when one of the defenders pointed an arrow at Eda. He did not fire it though. The commander ran at the wall and, with a few impressive vertical strides, grabbed hold of Eda’s ankle and yanked her down. The knife fell from her mouth, and the commander kicked it out of reach as she hit the ground. He could have broken her fall but had chosen not to.
Eda lay clutching her chest, still gasping for air when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off the ground, dragging her towards the contained crowd.
Blake did not move one inch—just as he had instructed.
As if sensing his approach, the line of men separated enough for their commander to pass through. He shoved Eda towards Blake. She caught her sister, hugging her close. Eda was alive—still struggling to draw breath, but alive.
‘Take her home,’ the commander said, drawing his sword and looking away.
‘Thank you.’ She had to shout because of the noise.
His eyes returned to her.
‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.
He gave her the smallest nod before his attention was diverted.
A man approached. ‘Murdering bastards!’ He shoved the girls aside and raised his dagger.
The commander turned his sword and smashed the hilt of it into the man’s face.
Blake watched as he crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Her wide eyes returned to Commander Wright.
‘Get out of here,’ he said, his eyes burning holes through her.
‘Hold on to me,’ Blake whispered to Eda, drawing her closer and stepping back. ‘And don’t let go.’
Chapter 4
Harlan sat on a cot in the infirmary at the barracks. The physician had just finished stitching a knife wound on his forearm and was now bandaging it. Astin sat on the cot opposite, in need of some grown-up company after too much time at Prince Borin’s side. One downside of excelling as a defender was that the warden took notice. Shapur had plucked Astin Fletcher from his cohort three years earlier, and the young defender had been stuck guarding the crown prince ever since.
‘Never a good sign when the king’s speech finishes with more corpses than it began with,’ Astin said.
Harlan had predicted the outcome and made sure his cohort was prepared going in. ‘You got the prince out just in time.’
‘I knew if I left him in there any longer he would try to do something heroic, like leap from his horse and get stabbed through the eye.’
The physician’s mouth twitched as he turned away to clean his instruments.
‘See?’ Astin said. ‘He knows I’m right.’
Boots sounded in the corridor outside, and Harlan recognised his father’s footsteps. ‘God, here we go.’
Shapur appeared in the doorway, gaze landing on Astin.
‘That’s my cue.’ Astin rose and saluted. ‘Warden.’
Shapur gave him a hard stare as he passed. He had been glowering at the bodyguard for the past year, ever since he caught Astin with a tavern woman in his bed. Women were not permitted in the barracks—and Shapur Wright was a stickler for the rules.
Harlan thanked the physician as he rose, then walked over to join his father.
‘I would have cast him out if Prince Borin was not so attached,’ Shapur said.
‘You say that every time you see him.’
The pair moved out into the corridor, heading for the exit.
‘I’m fine, by the way,’ Harlan said. ‘I assume that’s why you’re here.’
