47
Bard
Kiria, tortured in the arena? It was unthinkable. Bard winced as Firian left, the news still sending shocks through him. Firian, who hadn’t seemed to notice he had blood on his fingertips, said he had left her sleeping fitfully in her cell. She was alive, but oh! who should be put through that?
Determination flamed through Bard’s veins. He squinted through the thick shafts of sunset light at the others. Royce could help, rallying the other guards. He knew the inner workings of the palace and the walls—Bard hadn’t stopped asking him questions about it. Jori would join the cause of saving her, but his talents didn’t lie in anything that seemed immediately helpful. His status as a Calthwaite was something, as well as his knowledge of the passages that the guards didn’t watch over.
