“You don’t want to arrest the whole squad. It will look bad for the king. People will think he has no loyalty among his men,” Tristan reasoned, voice gruff and low.
There was a moment of loaded silence.
Finally, Grendel spoke. “That’s true. Consider your men dishonorably discharged. As for you, Tristan, you can join the queen in the cells. It turns out that Alanna set a fire in her rooms with the intention of drugging and murdering her husband. She’s already been found guilty of attempted regicide and sentenced to death. Isn’t that nice? Now you can hang together.”
Nim felt herself go cold with devastation and remorse, as Keely began to shudder beside her. They were going to kill Alanna after all. Alanna who they’d left behind, thinking that they had time. Thinking she was safe from Ballanor and Grendel’s machinations. Gods.
Alanna was not safe, not at all, and now she was going to be executed. And Tristan too. Her fists clenched painfully as she fought her need to get to Tristan. Get to him and save him.
A chain clanked, and something thudded. Tristan groaned, a harsh grating noise, and she closed her eyes helplessly. They were hurting him.
A scuffle broke out, and she wished desperately that she could see what was happening. But then Tristan spoke again. “Stand down. All of you.”
“No, I don’t trust you to stay out of this. Go into the house,” Grendel ordered.
There was another scuffle. Swords being drawn.
“Archers, shoot anyone that isn’t in the house in the next ten seconds.”
“Do it,” Tristan ordered. “Move!”
There was the sound of boots marching over the sand. A door slammed. Keely shivered relentlessly beside her. And Val twitched restlessly in his sleep.
“Bar the house.”
She could hear scraping and banging as the doors were barred, windows shuttered. Then hammering as if they were being nailed closed.
Nim stroked Val’s cheek and counted seconds. Surely by now Grendel knew that no one could follow. He would leave at any moment. Surely.
The banging stopped and she let out a shaky breath. And then gasped at Grendel’s horrifying next order. “Archers. Fire the roof. Aim through the upstairs windows.”
“No!” Tristan’s hoarse cry was anguished. “You have what you want!”
“Give me Lanval and the girl, and I’ll let them out.”
Nim felt her breathing go shallow and panicked, her palms slick with fear. How could Tristan possibly make this choice?
“I can’t!” He sounded broken.
Gods. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave him out there alone. She climbed over Val and started to kick at the fresh stones of the false wall, praying that no one would hear her in the chaos outside. Praying that Keely and Val would remain undiscovered when she was gone.
The men in the house were shouting, beating at the door.
And then she heard a soft, infinitely terrifying crackling. The thatch had caught.
She kicked harder. One stone fell free. A few smaller stones tumbled down, but the rest held.
She paused for a few seconds, waiting to see if anyone had heard her, but the men’s bellows and the hissing, snapping flames drowned out the noise.
Someone was shouting orders, but she couldn’t hear what was said over the sound of her own heart beating and the thump of her feet against the stones. Two more hard kicks, and the next big stone fell forward.
It was small, but it was a hole.
She looked over her shoulder to see that Keely had moved into her place, holding Val’s hand. “Stay here,” she whispered, and Keely nodded, ghostlike in the dim light.
She furled her wings as tightly as she could and then slithered desperately over the rough stones. The skin on her hands tore on the ragged edges, and her wings caught and scraped, but she didn’t stop.
She had to get out. Get to Grendel. Hand herself in. Save Tristan.
