CHAPTER 80Esyal did not have time to ponder her brutal decision to kill Josyff if he could no longer be defended — what it meant — what she had become. The kitchen — Qualto’s orderly world — had become another place — a nightmare maelstrom. Dense snow, driven by a battering wind, was pouring in through the broken window. Lit by the wildly dancing lights from Qualto’s roaring stoves, and the shadows of the figures fighting in the doorway, it twisted and surged around the room as if searching for an escape, before lapsing into incongruously graceful drifts, transforming the scene into a shifting and bitterly cold landscape.
Esyal, Nyk and Badr were taking a toll of the attackers with their machetes and captured spears, but, despite the losses, the assault against the door was being redouble
