Tamas turned. He tilted his head, as if bemused by the enraged Hielman rushing toward him. He drew a pistol and pulled the trigger. Bystre jerked and fell, his body rolling once with forward momentum before twitching and falling still. The bullet had pierced his eye at more than one hundred paces. Field Marshal Tamas waved the smoke from the barrel of his pistol.
Nila screamed.
She saw the field marshal gesture toward her and waited for another bullet to come and pierce her brain. It never came. Instead, Adran soldiers ran down the barricade and toward her. She stared at them, in shock, until she remembered Jakob in her arms.
Nila turned to run to the next barricade. She had a lead on the Adran soldiers, but they were far faster. She tripped and struggled on the hem of her dress. Forty feet away, the royalists fired from behind the next barricade to give her cover. Bullets ricocheted off the paving stones around her, the scent of gunpowder making her choke. Thirty feet to go.
Someone hit her from behind. She fell, turning to see Adran soldiers upon her. She screamed and struggled, but Jakob was pulled from her arms. One of the soldiers turned to her, bayonet ready to shove through her belly. He twisted the rifle at the last second and pushed her away with the stock and the soldiers retreated, taking a screaming Jakob with them.
Nila struggled to her feet and staggered after them. They couldn’t take him. Not now, not after she’d protected him this long. She stopped beside Bystre’s body. He lay on his belly, his one remaining eye staring sightlessly across the street. Flies had already started to buzz around the bloody hole in his skull. She fell to her knees and vomited.
Someone pulled her out of the street and into a rubble-strewn alley before the shooting resumed.
Nila sagged against the partially intact wall of a tenement. “You let them take him,” she spat at her rescuer.
Rozalia glanced out into the street, her gloved fingers poised at the ready until some unapparent danger had passed. She let her hands fall.
“This is no longer my fight,” Rozalia said.
“You could have stopped them,” Nila accused. “You could have killed Tamas right then. You could have protected Bystre.” She heard her voice crack and felt the tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away with a grimy sleeve.
“General Westeven is dead,” Rozalia said. “There is no reason to prolong this fight any longer.” She paused for a moment, staring back into Nila’s accusing eyes. “Yes, I could have killed Tamas, but damage has been done on a scope you cannot imagine. At this point, killing Tamas would only multiply that damage.”
“Bystre,” Nila said.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Rozalia said. Her voice softened suddenly. “You are a brave girl. A smart girl. I only expect you to move on. Tamas has the boy. Westeven is dead. The other royalists will drag this out for as long as they can, but Tamas will win eventually. Get out while you still can. There is a path through the rubble in the southwestern corner of the barricades. Neither side knows about it. Take that way out. Gather what money you can and live a full life far from here.” Something wistful entered Rozalia’s eyes. “Fatrasta is nice this time of year.”
“What will he do to Jakob?” Nila asked.
Rozalia held out a hand. Nila accepted and got to her feet.
“Jakob,” she said again when Rozalia did not answer. “What will Tamas do with him?”
“Tamas is pragmatic,” Rozalia said. “If he were to allow a monarchal heir to survive, he could have this situation all over again. He’ll do away with the boy quietly.”
Nila dried the tears in her eyes. She felt something harden in her heart at the thought of Jakob’s blond head dropping into a basket.
“Leave Adro,” Rozalia said. “That’s what I’ll do, when my work here is done. Here.” She dug something from a pocket sewn into her jacket and pressed it into Nila’s hand. A hundred-krana coin.
“Thank you,” Nila said. Rozalia waved dismissively and picked her way down the alley, away from the barricades. Nila waited a few moments, thinking of the coin in her hand and the silver hidden outside the city. She could still see Bystre from the alley. His body lay unmoving beneath the constant exchange of gunfire between royalists and Adran soldiers. Nila made a fist around the coin. It was enough for new clothes and a