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Nesryn stared after Borte until she’d
reached the plain, passing by Yeran and his
ruk in a daring maneuver that some might
have interpreted to be a giant, vulgar gesture
to the warrior.
Yeran’s dark ruk screeched in outrage, and
Nesryn smiled, knowing Yeran was likely
doing the same, even with the two healers
riding with him.
Yet Nesryn’s smile proved short-lived as
she again beheld the marching army nearer
and nearer with each minute. An unbroken,
untiring mass of steel and death.
Would they camp until dawn, or attack at
nightfall? Would the siege be quick and
lethal, or long and brutal? She’d seen their
supply trains. They were prepared to stay for
as long as it took to bring this city to rubble.
And wipe out every soul dwelling within.