But he’d be damned if he didn’t save her, even if revealing what he was meant losing her.
It felt like forever, the hungry flames pressing closer while the fighting dwindled around them.When Ulla patted his hand, he snatched it away.He groped for his sword, desperate for something solid and familiar.
He rose, fatigue making his limbs heavy.Ulla followed with an effort, her brow pinched.Nesrin studied him while beyond her, the guards reclaimed the eastern wall and stairs.
He’d kept this secret from her, too.
“Lady Nesrin!”a guard exclaimed.“A mounted party is approaching!”
“Who are they?”Nesrin asked, her eyes still locked on Bastion.The question felt directed at him.
“It looks like a patrol!”
Nesrin’s gaze jerked away, her chest swelling as relief briefly flashed across her face.
“How many?”she asked as she strode to the wall.Bastion followed, avoiding Ulla’s gaze.He’d rather face the next battle than whatever her eyes held.
“Maybe fifty men,” the guard replied.
In the starlit darkness, a platoon rode towards the drawbridge.A prickling sensation stabbed Bastion’s gut.
“It’s too convenient,” he whispered.Nesrin glanced at him sharply.
Down on the bluffs, the patrol slowed to a stop just out of archer range.Someone lifted a flag.
“They bear Moonwatch’s banner!”a guard cried.“Lower the drawbridge!”
“NO!”Nesrin barked.The force of the word made the guard step back, and everyone stilled.Then, she said to Bastion, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He shook his head.The motion made his stomach roil.
“I need a spyglass,” he said.“Quickly!”
Men made way as someone ran from the tower over the gatehouse, a spyglass in their outstretched hand.Bastion took it, lifting it immediately.He could feel Ulla’s eyes tracing the side of his face, like scorching sunlight.
He found the patrol easily enough.Their horses stamped and snorted, and their bannerman waved Moonwatch’s flag impatiently.Bastion strained to find anything that would support his hunch.
“What do you see?”Nesrin asked, her voice tight.Beyond her, the guards began to mutter.
Then, Bastion’s eyes landed on the hilt of a sword he knew, and an icy chill coursed over his sweat-soaked skin.His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he panned to the other men.
“One man carries the sword of a Royal Guard,” Bastion breathed.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nesrin’s lip twitch.“The others carry a mix of blades, but nothing that matches what was in your armory.”
Bastion cast another baleful look at what he thought might be his own sword.Then he lifted the spyglass to the bearer's face, where he caught the flash of a white scar on his lip in the dim light.
“That’s Buck down there,” he said firmly.
He lowered the spyglass and scanned the guards.Over Ulla’s shoulder, Lawrence came towards them.His face was grim, but he moved with purpose, and his twin swords shone red.
Bastion couldn’t help but drag his eyes over Ulla.She stood tall, but weary, just like when they’d escapedThe Basilisk.
“The camp,” he whispered.He turned to Nesrin and said louder, “The camp!They had patrol horses.There were banners in the wreckage!This is their contingency plan!”
Nesrin regarded him, her mouth a flat line as her hands draped over the hilt of her great sword.Slowly, she nodded.
Ulla touched his arm, and Bastion flinched.He looked at her, and she drew a finger across her brow, then waved her hand at the length of her arm.
The motion threw him back into Buck’s cabin, and Bastion exclaimed, “Yes!The thing they’re after!They don’t know what it is any more than we do!”
