Their chamber door came into view. Still closed. Still?—
Magnus hit it at a dead run, nearly tearing it from its hinges as he burst through.
Empty.
The bed unmade, blankets thrown back. Her cloak gone from its peg. The bolt drawn.
She'd left. Despite his orders to stay put, to lock the door, to wait for him—she'd left.
"Ada!" Magnus roared her name, spinning back toward the corridor. "ADA!"
No answer. Just smoke and distant shouting and the relentless clanging of those damn bells.
Think. Where would she go? The kitchens, maybe—if there was fire, if people were hurt, she'd want to help. She was a healer. She wouldn't hide while others suffered.
Magnus ran again, back down the stairs, following the thickening smoke toward its source. Men rushed past him carrying buckets of water, their faces grim with determination. Someone shouted that the fire was in the storage rooms off the kitchens. Spreading fast.
But Magnus barely heard them. His entire focus had narrowed to a single, desperate need—find Ada. Make sure she was safe. Everything else could burn for all he cared.
He burst through the kitchen door into chaos.
Flames consumed the storage room, orange and hungry, sending smoke billowing into the larger space. Men fought the blaze with buckets and blankets, shouting orders over the roar of fire. The heat hit Magnus like a physical force, driving him back a step.
"Ada!" He scanned the room frantically. "Has anyone seen Lady Ada?"
"Nay, me lord," a servant called back, coughing through the smoke. "Havenae seen her since?—"
A shout from outside. From the courtyard.
Magnus's blood went cold.
He shoved past the men fighting the fire, crashed through the outer door into the night air. The courtyard spread before him, lit by torchlight and the orange glow from the burning storage room.
And there—near the postern gate?—
Ada.
She was pinned against the stone wall, fighting like a wildcat. Her nightgown was torn at the shoulder, her hair wild around her face. Two men held her—one with his hand clamped around her wrist, trying to drag her toward the gate, while another fought to subdue her thrashing.
Magnus didn't think. Didn't plan. Just moved.
"ADA!"
His roar carried across the courtyard, raw and primal. The sound of a man seeing everything he cared about being ripped away.
The men holding Ada jerked around, startled and that moment of distraction was all Magnus needed.
He charged forward, his sword already drawn. The first man—the one dragging Ada toward the gate—barely had time to release her before Magnus was on him. His blade caught the man across the shoulder, not deep enough to kill but enough to send him staggering backward with a cry of pain.
"Get away from her!" Magnus's voice was barely human, more growl than words.
The second man—darker, his face half-hidden by a hood—shoved Ada away and drew his own weapon. Steel rang as their blades met, the impact jarring up Magnus's arm.
Ada stumbled, nearly fell. She caught herself against the wall, her eyes wide with terror and something else. Relief, maybe. Or shock.
"Run!" Magnus shouted at her, parrying another strike. "Get inside! Now!"
But Ada didn't run. Just stood there, frozen, watching as Magnus drove the hooded man back with a series of brutal strikes. No finesse. No technique. Just raw fury channeled through steel.
