“Shut up, you—” Stannard snapped, lifting his hand in a casual, sweeping threat.
Sebastian moved before he even knew he had moved.
He hit Stannard with full force, sending the man crashing back against the far wall. Stannard staggered, but he recovered with the speed of a striking snake. His fist slammed into Sebastian’s chest, knocking the breath clean from him. A second blow cracked against Sebastian’s temple, sending white light flaring through his vision.
Sebastian kicked blindly, felt his boot strike a leg. Pain exploded in his skull as another punch found its mark.
“Sebastian!” Evelyn’s scream cut through the haze.
Her voice—raw with terror, with feeling—pierced something in him. Joy, wild and untamed, surged through his battered body. She cared. Shetrulycared.
Stannard drove a fist into his side; Sebastian reeled, gasping. He lashed out, aiming for what he had noticed—a slight weakness in the man’s knee. His kick landed. Stannard shouted and staggered—
—and then the door burst open.
“City Watch!” a commanding voice thundered. “Stand fast! Drop your weapons, or we shoot.”
Sebastian sagged forward over the desk. The need to fight left him in an instant, replaced by utter, bone-deep exhaustion. His legs failed him; he clung to consciousness by sheer instinct.
Booted feet thundered into the room. Shouts followed. Sebastian could not lift his head, but he sensed Stannard retreating, sensed the men surrendering without a struggle. The promise of gunfire was enough; none of Stannard’s brutes carried firearms.
“You are all under arrest,” the watchman declared.
More footsteps. More voices. The room emptied.
Sebastian stayed slumped where he was, a thin thread of blood slipping from his nose, his ribs aflame, a dull hammering in his head. He did not know whether his leg would hold if he tried to stand. His hands throbbed fiercely—at least one knuckle broken, perhaps more.
“Brother? Brother!” A familiar voice, tight with fury and fear.
“Perdition take them—what have they done to you?”
A cool hand touched his shoulder. Sebastian forced his eyes open.
“Nicholas?” he rasped.
His brother’s face came into view, pale with shock.
“Nicholas!” Sebastian managed a weak, breathless grin—dizzy with relief, with gratitude, with everything he had not said before. “You came. You managed to find us.”
Nicholas nodded. “Of course, I did,” he said. “And thank goodness I did.” He studied Sebastian with a look so full of concern that Sebastian sank heavily into the nearest chair, his strength ebbing beneath the pain.
“You arrived at precisely the right moment,” Sebastian said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Sitting upright felt impossible.
“I am glad to hear it,” Nicholas murmured. His voice had thickened. Sebastian glanced up. His brother’s eyes shone—whether from exertion or emotion, he could not tell.
“Nicholas… how bad is it?” Evelyn’s voice asked. She stood beside Sebastian, and when his eyes met hers, he could not look anywhere else. For a moment, his pain seemed to disappear, and he could not think of anything except her and how wondrous it was to be close.
“I reckon he’ll live,” Nicholas drawled, attempting levity. Sebastian shot him a dry look.
“Good news.” His voice was dry. Nicholas chuckled.
“But, in all honesty, brother, you look in dire need of a physician. I should arrange one.”
“We need to take Evelyn home first,” he growled and looked up at her. She was pale, and he noticed that she was shaking, fighting the tremors that slammed into her. She had been so brave and, like himself, now that there was no need to fight, the terror and pain could sap the last of her strength.
Nicholas nodded. “Indeed. After that—a physician. But first, James and I must speak with the Watch.” He turned toward the door, then paused when Sebastian called his name.
“Nicholas.”
