Then a hand caught hold of his wrist, dragging him out from under the surge of men. Killian looked up to see Bercola above him, the giantess’s face streaked with soot and blood. “We need to retreat!” she bellowed. “We’re overrun!”
On the wall, his surviving men were trying to flee, but they were caught in an ocean of enemy. There was no way out.
Bercola hauled him away, cracking skulls with her staff as she went, but Killian slipped her grip. Snatching up a fallen blade as he ran, he sliced at the burning scaffolding. Over and over, his body wavering and shaking with pain until the leg of the structure splintered and cracked.
In a roar of flame and ash, it collapsed over the gate, blocking the opening.
But not for long.
There were hundreds of enemy in the courtyard. As many on the wall. And a least a dozen corrupted were hunting both friend and foe.
“Retreat!” Killian’s scorched throat could barely get the word from his lips, but the men nearest to him heard. They picked up the call, the survivors fighting their way down the stairs, flinging themselves off the wall.
They rallied around him and Bercola, fighting toward the fortress gate and then out into the forest beyond where the horses circled in panic. Above them, strange shrieks filled the air. The sound of wings.
Catching hold of his horse’s mane, Killian hauled himself onto its bare back, the dozen men with him catching mounts to do the same. “Ride,” he gasped, dispatching them in opposite directions to warn the undefended towns.
“Killian!” Bercola shouted. “Let’s go!”
He needed to go back. Needed to fight. Needed to stop this.
But the giantess stepped between him and the fortress. “Going back will be suicide, even for you,” she said. “I haven’t watched your back all these years to stand aside now.”
“Let me go!”
She caught hold of his mount’s reins. “You’re no good to us if you’re dead.”
He’d been no good to them alive.
Shaking his head to clear it, Killian dug his heels into his horse’s side. “We ride for Mudaire.”
And when he returned it would be with an army at his back.
But as they fled toward the tree line, Killian couldn’t help a backward glance at the fortress. At the wall that had never fallen.
All he saw were flames.
6
LYDIA
Lydia stared at the pages on her desk, the words blurring together no matter how hard she tried to focus.
The physician had come straightaway, attempting to dose her father for pain, but he’d only waved the man away. “It clouds my mind and my mind is all that I have left.” Then he’d motioned to Lydia. “Go see the rest of our guests out. Make my apologies for me.”
She’d gone but lingered in the hallway, listening.
Six months, Senator, the physician had said. Perhaps less. It would be well for you to ready your affairs.
Six months and then she’d lose him. Six months and she’d be alone. A singular hot tear dribbled down her cheek, and Lydia wiped it aside furiously, then shoved her spectacles back into place, intent on losing herself in her work despite her failure to do so over the last two hours.
Dipping her pen in the inkpot, she wrote a line pertaining to an issue with pestilence afflicting poultry. Then a loud voice made her jump. “You spelled chicken wrong. And your Bardenese grammar is shit.”
Indignation flooded her, and Lydia snapped, “It’s not—” before recognition hit her. Twisting in the chair, she grinned at the girl standing behind her with an expression of amusement on her dark-skinned face. “Teriana!”
They went down in a heap of arms and legs, hugging and shrieking in complete disregard of propriety. “I wasn’t expecting you,” Lydia finally said after their enthusiasm had settled, not mentioning that she’d feared Teriana had abandoned her for good.
“There’s a lot of that going around.” Teriana pulled off her boots, tossing them aside before crossing her legs, her toes glittering with a multitude of rings. Her countless waist-length braids with their wealth of ornaments clicked and rattled together as she moved, the sound as comforting as a song. “Your father keeps poor company tonight.”
Her father was supposed to be abed, not receiving guests. “Oh?”
“A young one who’s drunk on both righteous indignation and your father’s good wine. And the other…” A frown creased Teriana’s brow. “Older. Weak chin. Eyes like a pig. He seemed…” She trailed off and then gave a shrug. “Seemed not your father’s sort.”
Lydia scrunched up her face, unnerved. “The younger is my father’s nephew, Vibius.” Who was supposed to have departed with Ulpia.
“Mmm-hmm.” Teriana pulled a ring off Lydia’s finger, examining the gemstone. She was easily the prettiest girl Lydia had ever met with her rounded cheeks, arched eyebrows, and wide smile, her smooth black skin completely flawless. Half a head shorter than Lydia, Teriana was the perfect blend of muscle and curve, her long-fingered hands calloused from a lifetime of working on her mother’s ship. But it was Teriana’s eyes that captured the attention.
Like all Maarin, Teriana’s eyes appeared to be windows to the sea, the irises moving with waves and swells. And like the sea, they changed color with her temperament. Lydia had seen them shift from indigo to azure to emerald to graphite all in the space of a conversation.
Handing back the ring, Teriana asked, “Who was the other man?”
Lydia twisted the band around her finger. Once. Twice. Three times. “Lucius Cassius.”
Teriana lifted both dark eyebrows in surprise. The Maarin were well acquainted with the ins and outs of Cel politics, and Lucius’s reputation was far-reaching.
“Elections.” Lydia said the word as an explanation, though it wasn’t. Nothing explained why her father had that man in this house. “Let’s go out into the gardens. It’s cold in here.”
Taking Teriana by the hand, she led her friend out of the library and down the curving stairs, their bare feet making no noise on the tile. Except as she rounded the corner, Lydia found herself face-to-face with both her father and Vibius.
Vibius gave Teriana a scornful once-over and then turned his scowl on Lydia, eyes clouded with wine and distaste, as though a pair of rats had interrupted his evening stroll. Lydia instinctively recoiled.
Which was a mistake.
Teriana’s hand snapped to her knife hilt, and Lydia was certain that if she hadn’t grabbed hold of her friend’s wrist Teriana would’ve stuck the blade into Vibius’s guts.
Mercifully, Vibius didn’t seem to notice, and he swayed on his feet as he said, “As if you aren’t embarrassment enough, you have to fraternize with a sailor.” Then he wheeled on her father. “You indulge her.”
Her father straightened, anger seeming to wipe away the effects of his illness. “And I’ll continue to indulge her while it is within my power to do so.” Then he gave Lydia a warning nod that had her dragging Teriana around the corner before the situation could devolve further.
“That pompous prick,” Teriana snarled once they were outside. “He better watch his back, because I’m of a mind to cut off his—”