Her eyes travelled up to his face. His eyes were closed again. She shook him. ‘I didn’t do all that for nothing. Open your eyes. Look at me.’

  He did, but gone was the light from them. The golden rim had faded to a dull brown.

  ‘The fighting will stop soon,’ she said. ‘Then you’ll get the help you need.’

  He blinked. ‘Are we winning?’

  Blake looked out at the beach. They were still fighting, and she could not tell.

  A shadow passed over them, and she drew Harlan’s sword as she shot to her feet. A warrior with braided hair came to a stop in front of them. He held a longsword in one hand and a round wooden shield in the other. His shoulders were three times the width of Blake. It seemed the widespread famine had skipped this particular tribe.

  ‘What do we have here?’ the man said, looking from Blake to Harlan.

  Blake stepped over Harlan so she stood between them, sword pointed at the man’s chest. Her hand was not as steady as she would have liked. ‘If you leave now, I’ll let you live.’

  Amusement filled his eyes as he stared down at the sword. ‘I don’t think that belongs to you.’

  It was the first time Blake noticed that the sword was not Harlan’s. She tried not to let the surprise show on her face. She was not particularly good with any sword, but if she had pulled her knife out, the man would have laughed at her.

  ‘I don’t think it belongs to you either,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘This is an English sword used by cavalrymen in the ninth century. Double-edged blade. Decorated pommel. Valuable—and likely stolen.’

  She might not have been a strong swordsman, but she knew a lot about them. Her father had taught her all about weapons—just not how to kill a warrior with one.

  A low chuckle came from the man. ‘I think I’m going to quite enjoy taking it from you.’

  ‘Blake,’ Harlan said behind her, sounding worse by the second. ‘Run.’

  She dared a glance behind her and saw his eyes were closed, and he was shivering. She could tell by his colour they did not have long.

  Lunging forwards, she went for the warrior, hoping to catch him off guard. He lifted his shield and blocked the blow with minimal effort. She tried again, then again, only to be met with laughter.

  He was literally laughing at her.

  ‘I was really hoping you might have some skill.’ He stepped up to her so quickly she tripped over Harlan in her effort to get away from him. Harlan did not even open his eyes as she landed. One positive was that the warrior was focused only on her. He stepped over Harlan as she scurried back.

  A mistake.

  Harlan’s hand shot up, grabbing him by the ankle. His eyes blinked open as he twisted the warrior’s leg, causing the man to lose balance and fall.

  That was Blake’s opportunity—probably her only one.

  She leapt up and drove the sword into the man’s leg. He arched his back and roared through gritted teeth before swinging his shield and smashing it into Blake’s head.

  The sword fell from her hand.

  Her ear rang, the pitch like claws on her brain. She held her ear as she staggered sideways, determined not to fall. She watched the warrior get to his feet, despite his injury. Lifting his good leg, he lined his foot up with Harlan’s head, his face tight with pain and anger.

  Blake reached into her soggy pocket and pulled her knife from its sheath. She threw it as fast and hard as she could, striking the man in the neck. His hands flew up to his throat, his foot returning to the ground.

  During the exchange, Harlan had also drawn a knife. He reached one trembling hand up and sliced the back of the warrior’s knee. Blood poured freely down the leg, pooling on the sand.

  Even in the throes of death, he managed to protect her.

  The sea warrior’s eyes went as wide as plates. The sword and shield dropped onto the sand, and his knees gave out. Seeing that he was about to fall forwards onto Harlan, Blake ran at him, kicking the man in the chest so he tipped backwards. He slammed into the sand before going still.

  Blake dropped down next to Harlan and pressed her forehead to his. ‘Stay with me. Please.’

  Harlan had stopped shivering, and she had no idea if that was a good or bad sign. She wanted to scream for someone to help him, but she knew he did not have it in him to fight off any more warriors. She just hoped the number of defenders now pouring onto the beach meant it would soon be over.

  ‘Hide,’ Harlan whispered, turning his head closer to hers.

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘I can’t protect you.’ His voice was barely audible.

  She pressed her eyes shut. ‘I don’t need you to protect me. I just need you to live.’

  The sound of boots pounding on the sand made her reach for the sword. Determination filled her. She would keep him alive, no matter the cost.

  With a huge inhale, she rose to her feet again, gripping the weapon with both hands as she turned. There stood Harlan’s father and four defenders. Two of the men held a wicker stretcher. Shapur looked down at the sword in her hands.

  ‘I suggest you lower that weapon, merchant.’

  It took her a moment to realise this was the help she had been waiting for. Exhaling, she stepped back from Harlan and dropped the sword on the ground. They laid the stretcher down and, counting to three, carefully lifted Harlan onto it.

  ‘Watch the one in his back,’ Blake said.

  Shapur frowned in place of a response. ‘Take him straight to the infirmary,’ he instructed the men.

  They carried him off up the beach. Blake ran after the stretcher, relieved to see the defenders had created a safe path all the way to the royal borough gate. As they walked, she watched him struggling to breathe and prayed they were not too late. Shapur’s eyes were on her the entire time—she could feel them—but he never told her to leave.

  Her boots squelched as she jogged to keep up, stepping over dead bodies and injured men. The air was rank. Not even the ocean could disguise the smell of death. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the entire beach was painted with blood. The water lapping the sand was a vibrant shade of red.

  Her head snapped forwards, and she found Harlan looking at her. His fingers twitched. She no longer cared what Shapur thought. She took his icy hand in her warm one and squeezed as much life into it as she could manage.

  ‘You’re so cold,’ she said.

  ‘You’re bleeding,’ he croaked.

  Blake reached up and touched the side of her face, fingering the sticky blood that ran from her hairline to her neck. She had not even realised. At least the ringing in her ear had eased.

  ‘This is as far as you go,’ Shapur said when they reached the gate. ‘A defender will see you back to the borough.’

  Blake nodded and looked down at Harlan, whose eyes were closed again. Bending, she said into his ear, ‘I need you to survive.’

  He did not move.

  She stepped back from the stretcher when they carried him off. The sooner they got him to the infirmary, the sooner they would treat him. Shapur glanced at Blake as he passed her but did not say a word.

  ‘Let’s go,’ the defender said to Blake.

  Blake watched Harlan through the portcullis as it was lowered. When he was out of sight, she turned away and followed the defender back through the battleground.

  Chapter 23

  They were not so much dreams as hallucinations.

  Harlan was face down in the water, too weak to swim, to roll over. Too weak to draw breath. He could not feel his arms or legs. Then he felt too much all at once. Water roared in his ears, and blood stained his vision.

  Open sea in all directions.

  Waves with no pattern.

  The first time he was able to anchor himself in reality might have been hours later or months. He had no sense of time. He was not sure what had actually occurred and what his mind had conjured up. The first thing he did was check that he had both arms and legs.

  His arms were bandaged but still attached. The effort of wriggling his toes was enormous, but it confirmed both legs were still there.

  ‘Is he actually awake this time?’ Astin said from somewhere in the room. ‘Because we've had a few false starts.’

  Harlan turned his head, searching for his friend through blurry vision.

  ‘Give him a moment’ came the familiar voice of the physician. He swirled into Harlan’s view and picked up his hand, pressing two fingers to his wrist. ‘Much better. Happy with the colour of those wounds too.’

  Harlan wanted to speak, but it felt like someone had glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth while he slept.

  Astin stepped into view. ‘Blink if your brain is still working.’

  Harlan could not have laughed if he wanted to.

  ‘Fletcher has visited you every day for the past two weeks,’ the physician said, tutting. ‘He is all bravado now that you are awake.’

  Harlan dislodged his tongue and swallowed. ‘Did he weep?’ His voice was scratchy and raw.

  ‘I wept from laughter when you pissed the bed,’ Astin said. ‘Does that count?’

  The physician moved between them, head shaking. ‘Let us get you sitting up, shall we? We need to get some water and broth into you. See if we cannot have you walking by the end of the week.’

  Astin stepped up to fluff his pillow for comedic value while the physician helped Harlan up. It took a moment for the dizziness to settle.

  ‘I shall be back shortly,’ the physician said before leaving the room.

  Astin filled a cup with water and brought it to Harlan’s mouth without making a joke.

  ‘Has it really been weeks?’ Harlan asked, leaning his head back.

  Astin nodded and dragged a chair next to the bed. ‘No one thought you would live. The blood loss alone should have killed you. Then there were the injuries, including damage to one of your lungs. And the physician couldn’t get your temperature back up for the longest time.’ He leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Your father’s been dropping in too, in case you’re wondering. Hasn’t said much, but he keeps showing up.’

  Harlan let his eyes close. ‘Did the recruits make it?’

  ‘They hid like frightened dogs, so they may wish they hadn’t when you’re back on your feet.’

  ‘And Thornton?’

  ‘Who?’

  Harlan’s eyes opened. ‘He was with me in the water. I sent him ashore.’

  ‘Ah.’ Astin nodded. ‘Yes. Quite the hero. Though a true hero would have carried you up the beach on his back while fighting.’

  Harlan started to laugh, but the pain stopped him. He wanted to ask about Blake but did not know how to bring her up.

  ‘And then there was the other hero of the moment,’ Astin said, saving him the trouble. ‘The young merchant woman who ran into battle armed with a longbow and a handful of arrows. She fought off warriors three times her size and searched an ocean on the slight chance you were still alive.’ He waited for Harlan to react.

  Harlan could not make jokes or dismiss it like he normally would. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘Who?’

  Harlan gave him a tired look.

  ‘She’s fine. She keeps coming to the gate.’

  Blake’s bloodied and tear-stained face flashed in his mind. ‘What does she want?’

  ‘What do you think? To know if you’re alive.’ Astin leaned back in his chair. ‘The men guarding that gate are sick of the sight of her.’

  Harlan imagined her showing up every day, determined as always, only to be sent away each time. ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘Once. She was a bit banged up. Blended in with the defenders though. Wish I’d been there on the beach. Not that it wasn’t fun seeing Borin shit his pants atop the wall.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘I’m surprised by Blake’s apparent devotion to you, given everything that happened with the tunnels and her brother.’

  Harlan picked up the cup of water and tried to drink it without help. It spilled down his chest. ‘We’ve never really spoken about it.’

  Astin’s eyebrows rose. ‘But she knows?’

  Harlan brought the cup to his lips again and took a large gulp, welcoming the cool sensation on his throat. ‘She knows who I am.’

  ‘But does she know what you did?’

  Harlan stared hard at the drink. ‘I met her for the first time that day. She was standing next to one of the shafts when the tunnels collapsed.’

  ‘“Collapsed” makes it sound like an accident.’

  ‘I should go see her.’

  Astin rose from the chair and placed a hand on Harlan’s good shoulder. ‘While I acknowledge you’re doing much better with the cup, you should take things one drink at a time. I’ll update her. Do you have a message you want me to pass along?’

  There were a hundred things he wanted to say. He took a moment to think about what she may need to hear from him. ‘Tell her I survived.’

  Astin waited for more. ‘That's it? No promise of unbridled passion beneath the stars?’

  ‘When was the last time you saw stars?’

  ‘Fair point. I’ll tell her you survived, recite a quick sonnet, then be on my way.’

  ‘You don’t know any sonnets.’

  Astin ran into the physician carrying a steaming bowl of broth at the door. ‘He’ll need you to feed it to him. He didn’t do so great with the water.’

  Blake had just collected money from a customer when she spotted Fletcher walking down the street towards the shop. Their eyes met through the open window, and Blake’s hands instantly went clammy. She knew he was Harlan’s closest friend. If there were bad news, he would be the one to deliver it. If Harlan had recovered, he would have come in person—she was sure of it.

  ‘Is that Prince Borin’s bodyguard?’ Lyndal asked, walking up beside her.

  ‘Yes.’

  They watched as he stepped up onto the veranda, but he did not enter the shop.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Lyndal whispered.

  Blake swallowed. ‘Waiting to speak to me, I think.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lyndal placed a hand on her sister’s back. ‘Want me to come with you?’

  Blake shook her head and went out front, closing the door behind her. ‘Defender.’

  Astin gave a small bow of the head. ‘You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.’

  The right side of Blake’s face had been twice its normal size and every colour of the rainbow. She had also had stitches along her hairline.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Astin said, reading her face. ‘It’s good news. I have a message from Commander Wright.’

  Her heart sped up. ‘Is he awake? Talking?’

  ‘Both, actually.’

  Blake let out a breath and held her stomach. ‘Thank Belenus.’

  Astin studied her for a moment. ‘I just came from his bedside, where he’s sitting up for the first time in weeks.’

  Blake was hanging off his every word, not caring that the defender could see her heart beating through her dress. ‘So much time had passed, I thought…’ She could not finish that sentence. ‘You said you had a message for me.’

  Astin nodded. ‘Yes. He said to tell you he survived. I suspect you have something to do with that.’ He glanced in the direction of the window where Lyndal stood with her arms crossed and a wary expression. ‘There was some pretty poetry he wanted me to recite on his behalf also, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t do it justice.’

  Blake breathed out a laugh, releasing some of the tension she was holding.

  Astin’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why are you laughing?’

  ‘Because Commander Wright is a man of action, not words. I’m pleased at least one of you has a sense of humour though.’

  A smile flickered on Astin’s face. ‘I guess you do know him. I’m sure he’ll be by when he’s back on his feet.’

  Blake bit her lip as she looked out to the road. ‘Are the defenders getting meat in the barracks at the moment?’

  His brow creased. ‘Some. Why do you ask?’

  Her eyes returned to him. ‘Because he’ll need good healing foods for a while.’

  The door creaked behind Blake, and Garlic waddled out, stopping at her feet and eyeing the defender.

  ‘Our guard duck, Garlic,’ Blake said by way of explanation. She bent to pick him up, stroking the new feathers that had finally come through.

  ‘Should I avoid eye contact with it?’ Astin asked.

  ‘Probably best.’ Blake placed him on the ground and shooed him back inside.

  ‘Would you like me to pass a message along to the patient? Is there anything you need?’

  She already had what she needed—he was awake. What to say to the man who had consumed her every thought since that day on the beach? ‘Tell him to focus on getting better.’ She hesitated. ‘Also, tell him I looked well, strong. Maybe tell him I got eggs from the market and whatever else he needs to hear.’

  Astin stared at her for the longest time. ‘And are any of those things true?’

  There had been eggs at the market, but none they could afford. The few vegetables they had, Blake was secretly putting in her sisters’ bowls before going out into the forest to eat insects. She glanced away. ‘Can you just tell him anyway?’

  Astin nodded slowly. ‘Good day, merchant.’

  ‘Defender.’

  Chapter 24

  It was another two weeks before Harlan was walking. His wounds had closed, and his strength had returned, though he tired quickly.

  ‘At least another two weeks before you can resume training,’ the physician told him. ‘I suggest you take up reading.’

  Harlan spent the next week trying to gain back some of the weight he had lost and taking walks outdoors to get some colour back in his face. While he was desperate to lay eyes on Blake, he was determined not to show up looking sickly.

  During the second week, he grew restless and told his father he had to get out of the barracks for a few days.

  ‘And go where?’ Shapur asked.

  Harlan brushed a finger down his nose. ‘I thought I might go to the house, see what kind of condition it’s in.’

  Shapur squinted and looked away. ‘Suit yourself.’

 

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