Skidding to a halt at the top of the main staircase, Belle felt a rush of fear as she stared down at the carnage below.
Men fought one another with short spears and swords. One was slicing his enemies with a handful of daggers. All were lost in their own violence and focused upon their enemies.
Taking a deep breath, Belle hurried down the stairs. She kept to the darker side, her figure hidden in shadow, before she moved onto the main floor. Steering clear of the fighters, always lingering at their back instead of between them and their opponent, Belle and Coira slipped around the skirmish before taking their chance to sprint for the doors.
Rushing out into the courtyard, Belle had to blink against the moonlight and the burn of the torches before she could see. Coira had her hand and was dragging her through her blindness.
"Come, mistress. I see the gates!"
Running with her friend, Belle kept turning, looking for any sign of Henry in the crowd.
Men were everywhere. The Henderson grounds were so large that they could span the entire land, but it felt as if they loomed on all sides. They fought in groups, in clusters of parrying blades and violent stabs. Each den of violence created a clearer path with its neighbor, allowing the women to hurry through and race to freedom.
Only arrows were their risk. And only one came close. It shot past Coira's face, close enough to stir her hair, but other than scaring the both of them silly, it did no damage.
"Come on!" Belle took the lead this time, grabbing Coira's hand and pulling her friend through the chaos.
Only when she saw him did she skid to a halt.
Losing Coira's hand as she stopped and started, Belle darted left and right, following glimpses of a man in the crowd.
"Coira! I see him!"
There was a figure a hundred paces away. He was tall. Dark-haired. And sported the arm of another over his shoulders and around his neck. He carried the weight of a man who was slouched against his side and was dragging him toward the front gates.
"Henry!" Belle cupped her hands around her mouth to send the cry as far as it would reach. When the man stopped and turned her way, she knew it to be him. "Coira, itishim! Coira!"
Looking back over her shoulder, Belle came to a careening halt when she realized Coira had fallen several steps behind. As Belle watched in horror, her friend was shoved to the ground by a soldier in Hunter colors and reduced to prey broken across the floor.
"Coira!" Belle cried, rushing back toward her friend. "Coira, look out! Move!"
But there was no time for Coira to scramble through the grass in the dark. She could only watch in terror as the man standing over her raised a large and shining ax above his head.
"No!"
Belle pushed her legs harder, digging her toes into the earth to stride further. Her arms pumped at her sides to carry her faster.
She had made just one friend in her whole life. After Elliott had passed, she had known only one person who was nothing but truly kind to her. Nothing but truly gracious.
"Coira!"
"Belle!" The cry came from far away. And it was Henry's. Belle heard it. Absorbed it like it was honey to her ears.
But she did not stop.
At that moment, she dove for her friend and covered Coira with her own body. She braced herself for an impact that would see her life extinguished.
At least ah heard ye say my name once more...
19
"Nooo!"
It was like a nightmare. A truly petrifying nightmare from which he could not wake up.
Laird Henderson was in his arms; there was an arrow protruding from his thigh, and a hundred soldiers stood between him and Belle. Outside of him growing wings, there was no possible way for Henry to reach her in time, to save her from certain death. He could only watch in horror and scream for the nightmare to end.
This is my punishment.
