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soldiers and healers, some even depositing
their charges onto the mountain face itself.
And at ground level, none would hear her
cries for help.
No soldiers would stop, either.
Elide scanned the other end of the gates’
entryway.
Beheld the horses being led out from their
stables by frantic handlers, the beasts bucking
at the panic around them as they were hauled
toward the teeming ramps.
A black mare reared, her cry a sharp
warning before she slashed her hooves at the
handler. Lord Chaol’s horse. The handler
shrieked and fell back, barely grasping the
reins as the horse stomped, her ears flat to her
head.
Elide did not think. Did not reconsider. She
limped for the horses and the stables.
She said to the frantic handler, still backing