Tejay, Toren, Adrina and Princess Marla in the main hall. He handed Damin a parchment sealed with the Eaglespike crest - Cyrus' formal terms for surrender. Damin didn't even bother to open it.
“In return for what?” Rogan demanded.
“Lord Wolfblade must surrender the city, abdicate the throne, and agree to exile in the country of his choice. You, my Lords,” he added, addressing the other Warlords, “may retain your provinces, provided you agree to swear allegiance to Lord Eaglespike immediately.”
“Cyrus must think we're bored,” Tejay remarked. “He obviously sent Serrin here for a bit of light entertainment.”
“This is not a jest, my Lady.”
“It is from where I'm standing,” Tejay laughed. “Send him back to his big brother, Damin. Preferably a piece at a time.”
“Tempting though the idea is, Lady Lionsclaw, he's here under a flag of truce,” Damin reminded her. “If you want to cut him into little pieces, you'll just have to wait until he comes over the wall.”
Serrin glared at them in disbelief. “Don't any of you take this seriously? You are surrounded and starving and yet you make jokes! You cannot hope to hold out for much longer.”
“What we hope for is not your concern,” Damin told the young man.
“And that is your answer to our terms?”
“This is your answer.” Damin tore the unread document to shreds and threw the scraps at Serrin. “Go back and tell your treacherous brother and his allies that we do not deal with traitors. Instead of wasting his time figuring out the terms of my surrender, he'd be more gainfully employed putting his own affairs in order. I hear that's the wisest thing to do when one knows that their death is imminent.”
“You will regret this, Wolfblade,” Serrin warned.
“Not nearly as much as Cyrus will,” Damin predicted.
The following day, the bombardment began.
Greenharbour's walls were more decorative than defensive, and the only thing that had kept the enemy at bay thus far was Cyrus' willingness to wait. Once the war engines were rolled into place, however, Damin knew it was simply a matter of time before the walls were breached and the armies of Dregian and Greenharbour poured into the city.
But Cyrus did not attack the walls immediately. The boulders and burning pitch he lobbed into the city landed at random, killing any soul unfortunate enough to be in their destructive path. At first, Damin thought they were merely testing their range, but after two days he realised it was a deliberate attempt to further demoralise the people. The bombardment went on relentlessly, day and night, and the death toll mounted.
They had their own catapults mounted on the walls, but they were much smaller than the weapons Cyrus could bring to bear, and he kept his forces well clear of their range. By the end of the second day under the gruelling attack, the gates were stormed - not by Cyrus, but by a riotous mob desperate to flee a city that was rapidly becoming a death trap. The Raiders were forced to beat back their own people. A dozen or more died in the fracas; some trampled, others killed by the Raiders defending the gates from the mob. Damin ordered a curfew and threatened execution for anyone caught out on the streets without good cause.
It was later that night that he returned to his rooms, hoping to snatch a few hours' sleep before dawn and the next crop of crises emerged. Adrina was asleep when he arrived, and he stood in the moonlit chamber watching her through the flimsy curtain draped over the bed against insects. He'd not seen much of her lately and was a little surprised at how much he missed her. Pregnancy agreed with her, he thought. It was as if the budding life inside her had imbued her with some indefinable inner peace. She had always been beautiful, but now she was stunning. With a faint smile, he thought of the constant stream of potential brides that Marla had paraded before him over the years, glad now that he had held out for something truly worth fighting for.
Although he had made no sound, some instinct of self-preservation must have warned Adrina that she was not alone. Her eyes opened and she started a little, only relaxing when she realised who it was that stood in the doorway.
“I didn't mean to wake you.”
“I wasn't really asleep,” she replied, stretching languidly. “What time is it?”
“Late. Very late.”
“Then you should get some sleep. We'll still be under siege come morning.”
“I knew I could rely on you to cheer me up.”
She pulled back the curtain so she could see him more clearly. “You look tired.”
“Really? I only feel exhausted.”
“Was it that bad today?”
He nodded wearily as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Part of him wondered if it was worth taking his boots off. In a few hours the sun would be up and he'd only have to put them on again. Another part of him was trying not to recall the trampled bodies he had seen at the gate.
“I'm beginning to wonder if I should have accepted Cyrus' offer.”
“Surrender? Damin, you can't mean that!”
“I could save a lot of lives.”
“You'd be ending ours.”
“Cyrus offered us exile.”
“And you believe him?”
He saw the look of fierce determination in her eyes and smiled wearily. “No, I don't believe him. And don't worry, I haven't given up yet.”
“And if you do, it won't be Cyrus you have to fear,” she declared. “I'll run you through myself!”
He didn't doubt that she meant it. With a yawn he lay down beside her, fully clothed, as she moved across the bed to make room for him. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt fatigue wash over him. He closed his eyes with relief.
“Damin, if you're coming to bed, you could at least take your boots off.”
“I haven't got time to sleep,” he murmured. “I'm just going to rest my eyes for a moment.”
She moved into the circle of his arms and laid her head on his chest. He could smell the fresh scent of her hair and feel the slight bulge of her belly against his hip.
It was the last thing he remembered until Almodavar burst into the bedchamber next morning to inform him that Cyrus was breaking down the walls.
CHAPTER 33
Cracks appeared with the first hits. The walls were made of fragile chalkstone and had never been designed to withstand a serious attack. When Damin heard the news, he rode out to see the damage for himself. He was no engineer, but even he could tell that they would not last long.
“Call up the Collective Guards,” he ordered Almodavar. “Have them reinforce the troops on the walls.”
“You want me to take them off riot duty?”
“Riots are going to be the least of our problems shortly,” he said, as the crash of a boulder striking the wall made their horses rear in fright. The crack he had been examining widened alarmingly. A few more direct hits and it would be large enough for a man to walk through.
He turned his horse and cantered back through the streets to the palace, distressed by the devastation the bombardment had caused. There were blackened buildings everywhere he looked; others had crumpled under the weight of the boulders dropped from the sky. He avoided looking at the people. It was too hard to confront the fear in their eyes, the agony of their grief. Cursing himself for a fool, he wondered if he should have attacked sooner -
