Verdot tsked. “Considering what Jaelport is paying these days for eunuchs, that would be a waste.” He gestured to the guards. “Take them.”
Kurtz lashed out as the nearest man approached, landing a solid punch. West tried to fight as well, but in his weakened state, he barely got in a blow before being forced to his knees.
Zanna tensed and ground her teeth, wanting to run out and help them, but they were terribly outnumbered, and if she was going to do any good at all, she needed to be free and stay that way.
It took three men to force Kurtz to the floor and wrench his hands behind his back.
“Throw them in the holding cell,” Verdot said. “They ship out in the morning.”
“You think this ends with you selling me off?” Kurtz yelled.
Verdot walked away. “It ends when I say it does.”
Zanna’s heart pounded as the guards dragged Kurtz and Crispen away. Every muscle in her body screamed to act. She couldn’t just let them be taken. Not like this. But what could she do?
Without a second thought, she turned and headed for the stairs leading to the underground tunnel.
She needed to get help.
Chapter 42
Cole
Cole shoved Mistel behind him and lifted his sword into first position. Kurtz’s coaching came to mind. Feet steady. Hands loose. Breathe.
Thusk didn’t carry himself like a trained fighter, which gave Cole a sliver of hope his odds might be better than he thought. In fact, the man wasn’t even wearing a sword.
“We don’t want any trouble,” he said. “Just let us go.”
Thusk’s lip curled. “It’s too late for that. The girl has already been sold.”
A fiery surge swept over Cole. “You don’t have the right to sell anyone.”
“It’s not about rights,” Thusk said. “It’s about opportunity. And I’m not letting a couple of minstrels get in my way.” He gestured at them as if they were beneath notice. “Deal with this. Make it quick and quiet, and don’t harm the girl. We’ve a schedule to keep.” Thusk turned on his heel and walked toward the door. “The rest of you, we’re moving out.”
Cole eyed the clear path to the stairs. “Come on!” He grabbed Mistel’s hand and ran, only to slide to a stop when a man stepped into their path, sword in hand.
Drustan.
Cole’s former stepbrother grinned that canine snarl that had haunted Cole’s nightmares for so many years. “What’s the matter, Coley? You scared?”
Cole’s stomach twisted, but he met Drustan’s gaze head-on. Arman had made him strong and courageous. Bold as a cham. More than a conqueror. “Not this time.”
With a shout, Cole struck first. Drustan darted aside, laughing as he parried blow after blow with ease. Clashing steel rang out in the dark. Drustan’s attacks came fast, calculated, and though Cole deflected them, each strike sent jolts up his arms.
Drustan was clearly stronger, but that didn’t mean he was smarter.
The fight pressed on, fierce and unrelenting. Cole slashed across Drustan’s arm, drawing blood, but a second later, Drustan’s counterstrike nipped Cole’s side. He grimaced at the searing pain but refused to falter. Not this time. Never again.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mistel grab something from a crate and hurl it at Drustan. A clay pot smashed against his shoulder and scattered shards across the floor.
Drustan staggered, and his gaze snapped toward Mistel. Before he could go after her, Cole lunged forward and swung at his side. Drustan twisted, barely evading the blade, and countered with a vicious downward slash. Steel clanged against steel as Cole parried. Drustan’s blade slid down Cole’s until their hilts locked.
“You think you’re a man now, Coley?” Drustan said. “You’ll always be a sniveling baby.”
Cole growled and shoved Drustan back. He struck again and again, driving him toward the crates. Drustan deflected each blow, wolfish grin steady.
Another pot sailed past Cole’s shoulder, straight for Drustan’s head. He ducked, and the clay shattered against the wall behind him.
