Christian lunged forward, using his momentum to hook his feet around the man’s ankles and tugged him off-balance. The man fell to the ground with a thud, and Christian jumped on top of him. Christian pounded the man’s face with clenched fists, determined to silence him before he could call for help.
He saw the glint of steel—the man had unsheathed his dagger. In an instant, Christian caught the man’s wrist and wrestled for control of the weapon, straining with all his might to keep the blade away from his chest.
The man landed a blow to Christian’s chin, flipping him onto his back. The man scrambled to his feet and spun for the exit, but it was too late—Christian tackled him from behind. The man turned over, shoving Christian from him and sliced through the air with his dagger.
Christian rose, retreating from the blade.
A blast of cold wind blew into the tent as the flap opened abruptly. A guard entered, wearing a tunic with a black snake and red flowers emblazoned on it.
Desperation engulfed Christian. This was the only opportunity he would have to flee.
The scarred man stood quickly, and a smile came over his face. “Secure him,” he ordered.
As the guard slowly drew his sword, Christian felt a wave of regret wash over him. He had been so close to making his escape. Fear wound its way through his veins, along with a resolve to battle.
The guard moved toward Christian, sword in hand.
Christian’s heart raced as he tried to think of a way out.
The guard spun suddenly and thrust his weapon into the scarred man’s stomach.
Christian’s mouth dropped as the scarred man looked at his wound in disbelief. He fell to the ground, his eyes wide and unseeing, his scar smashed into the dirt.
The guard pulled his sword from the man and turned to Christian.
Christian’s muscles tensed as he grabbed the stool, lifting it before him as a makeshift shield. He gritted his teeth, determined not to go down without a fight.
The guard straightened. “I know you’re not fond of me, but Sage wouldn’t like it if you bashed me in the head.”
Christian tilted his head, scowling. “De Nogaret?”
Marcus nodded.
Christian slowly lowered the chair in disbelief. His eyes swept over Marcus and then shifted to the man on the floor. “What are you doing here?”
Marcus’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He snorted softly, shaking his head in incredulity. “I think it’s obvious.” He turned toward the exit.
Christian was suspicious of Marcus. After all the frustration he had caused Christian, it was difficult for him to believe that Marcus had actually come to help. “Where are the others?”
Marcus spread his arms wide. “It’s only me.” He grinned. “We have plenty of time to talk about this, but we have to get out of here. Now.”
Christian gave a curt nod.
Simon entered the tent. Christian took a step back.
Simon regarded them with a stern, suspicious stare.
A tense second passed, and then Marcus grabbed Christian’s arm. “I caught him trying to escape, m’lord.”
Christian grimaced in frustration, but he knew the move was necessary for Marcus to avoid capture.
Simon walked into the tent and slowly scanned the faces of Christian and Marcus before his gaze settled on the man lying on the ground.
“The prisoner stabbed him before I could stop him,” Marcus explained quickly.
“Where is the other guard?” Simon asked.
“He had to relieve himself,” Marcus answered. “I heard a noise and entered the tent to find the prisoner unbound.”
