eggs. How else could the healers have known their vulnerable spot?
Marden stopped at the end of the alley and held up a hand. The men readied themselves, hands on swords, waiting for his signal.
The plan was to storm the castle from the front gates. The hope was that the healers would surrender without incident. Though Bastian knew some of the men were anxious to draw blood.
Marden held two fingers in the air, then cocked them forward. He rushed into the street, his sword aloft, glinting in the early morning sunlight. The men in front of Bastian grunted and bellowed. Bastian followed, his feet pounding, his heart racing. He'd seen a lot of battle lately, but this was the first time he'd be facing other men.
He reminded himself he wouldn’t be killing a man for sport. It was to free his friend and the eggs. He wouldn't take a life unless it was necessary. There were many ways to fell a man without stopping his heart from beating.
The Black Guard didn't have the same standards.
When the healers at the gate didn't relent, Marden ran two of them through before they could even draw their swords. Blood gushed from their guts, splashing onto Marden's clothes. He didn't look down for even a moment. Instead he bent at the waist and rushed the gates, his left arm cocked in front of him like a battering ram.
The gate cracked open. A loud metallic sound echoed through the street, calling to the people in their homes. Faces appeared in windows, curious, but not one door opened.
Bastian gripped his sword tighter. They were smart to stay inside. This wasn't their battle.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. The healers weren't even prepared and they should have been. Why take control of a castle without the means to defend it? The soldiers stood to the side, letting Marden and his men pass. They wouldn't take part in the slaughter, but they wouldn't stop it either.
Bastian wasn't sure what to make of any of these men, not the Black Guard, nor the regular soldiers. Did they have no loyalty to anything or anyone? Perhaps they only followed the mighty, even if it meant switching sides twice in one day.
He followed the Black Guard as they worked their way deeper into the castle. The healers in the black cloaks no longer opposed them. They stood with their backs against the wall. Some cowered on the floor, their fear palpable.
Still, Bastian kept his sword at the ready in case someone decided to be a hero. He didn't want to kill, but he wouldn't be caught off guard.
The doors to the throne room were shut but not barred. Marden kicked them open, striding in ahead of the rest of his men. Bastian held back in the hall. He didn't care to face whoever had holed up in there. All he wanted was his friend.
"Don't hurt me!" a familiar voice called from within the throne room. Elinor. Bastian would know her voice anywhere.
He sighed, shaking his head. The woman who'd betrayed him. She could stand in line behind Tressa. He was done trying to take care of them when clearly neither needed, nor wanted, him.
Bastian strode in. "Ignore her," he said. "She's the one who told the other healers how to trap my dragon."
The men of the Black Guard stood in a semicircle, the tips of their swords pointing toward the marble floor.
Bastian elbowed his way in front of them, curious what had them so stunned. What trick was Elinor playing on them now?
What he saw rocked his resolve. It erased his anger. Every drop of blood in his veins ran cold until he thought his skin would crack.
Elinor was naked, bound hand and foot to a table. Red marks slashed across her body, covered in dried blood. Bastian ran to her side. "Who did this to you?" He stroked her hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Bastian." It came out a whisper.
He stepped back, his sword raised. "Don't move," he told her, though her limbs were pulled so tight she probably couldn't. He brought his sword down on the first set of ropes, cutting her left arm free. "Help me!" He shot Marden an angry look.
The mountainous man lumbered over and hacked the ropes binding Elinor's feet free while Bastian severed the final rope holding her right arm. Bastian cradled Elinor's head and draped his cloak around her. "Don't move too fast."
She cracked a small smile. "I won't, don't worry. Who's the