LAND STARED UP AT THE WINGED FORM OF BLAISE, descending in front of them. The Bastion looked like he had seen a ghost. Panicked, he struck out with his sword, slicing down Blaise’s wing. Blaise cried out, but he rose into the air, plucking the Bastion from his standing, flinging him across the ground. Despite his pain, Blaise managed to dive for more victims, hauling them into the air and releasing them in a broken pile below. He had cleared a path through the battlefield for Oland and his horse.

“Thank you,” said Oland.

Blaise landed. “A pleasure.”

Suddenly, Blaise looked down at his wing. Blood was streaming from it. “I’m sorry,” he said to Oland. “I won’t be able to take you anywhere.”

“You have done more then enough,” said Oland. “It is with great sadness that I must tell you of your brother’s passing.” He led Blaise back to Wickham’s side, leaving him to grieve for everything his future would not hold.

 

With his sights set on the castle, Oland rode towards Jerome Rynish, who was in a fierce battle with Hazenby, their swords now locked, steam rising from their bodies. Jerome’s strength was holding, while Hazenby looked close to defeat. Jerome pulled his sword free, and with a swift downward movement sliced Hazenby’s hamstrings and he collapsed, screaming, to the ground. Jerome staggered upright, looking up in time to see Oland pass, unscathed, through a downpour of arrows from the battlements and disappear through the breached walls of the castle. He roared out his name and quickly drew the attention of Malachy Graham’s sons, who charged like a wall towards the soldiers before them, toppling them to the ground, not breaking their stride as they too ran for the castle.

Oland made his way through the eerily quiet outer ward. Villius Ren’s discordant army had clearly been no match for the unity of the Decresians. Oland ran past their scattered bodies to the northwest tower. The Decresian soldiers who had felled Villius’ men were moving back and forth between the kitchens and the stables, filling every vessel they could find with water. They had laid wooden planks across the moat, and between them they carried water in a line to the burning tower. When the flames died down, Oland ran up the steps into the library. The walls were black, the air heavy with the smell of burning wood and paper and leather. He splashed through the water and the burnt-edged pages of the books that floated there. His room was still locked. The flames had not reached it. He was flooded with relief. He slumped to the floor. He was drenched, and black with soot.

Footsteps echoed up from below and a huge man appeared in front of him, bearing down on Oland, pulling him up from the ground.

“Are you Oland Born?” he shouted.

“Yes,” said Oland. “Yes.”

“What have you done with my daughter?” he said.

“Me?” said Oland. “Delphi? Are you… Chancey the Gold?”

Chancey the Gold’s eyes were wild. “Yes,” he said. “Where is she?”

“She’s safe!” said Oland. “She’s with Prince Roxleigh!”

Chancey the Gold glared at him. “How dare you…” he roared. “You cheeky little—”

“No, no, please, listen!” said Oland. “Prince Roxleigh is alive! He’s not mad! He’s looking after Delphi.”

But Chancey the Gold was shaking Oland so hard, he could barely speak.

The door to The Holdings suddenly opened, and Prince Roxleigh walked out. “If I could paint a portrait of every face I see when I appear.” He smiled.

Chancey stepped away from Oland when he saw Delphi behind Roxleigh.

“Father!” she cried, running into his arms.

“My beautiful Delphi,” he said, embracing her, kissing her head. “Tell me you didn’t swim,” he said quietly. “Tell me you didn’t swim.”

“She did!” said Oland. “And she was—”

“Shh!” said Delphi, her head spinning towards Oland.

Chancey the Gold released Delphi and turned to Oland. “I don’t know what you’ve done to her,” he said, grabbing Oland by the arm. “But she has clearly become reckless! I’ve heard word of Delphi on these travels you took her on. She has done everything that she has been told not to do. Everything! She has drawn attention to herself in the worst ways imaginable—”

“And why shouldn’t she draw attention to herself?” said Oland. “She’s brave and she’s kind and she’s—”

“I know!” said Chancey. “I know! She’s my daughter! Of course I know that. But she’s not safe!”

“Chancey the Gold!” shouted Delphi, her cheeks burning. “Leave him alone! Please… say no more!”

Chancey let Oland go. “I’m sorry, sir,” said Oland. “I’m the one who will leave you alone. If you are worried about Delphi, she can stay here. No one knows this room exists apart from us. I will be gone.” He bowed his head.