Reth reached down and pulled Elenya up.
"We have to get her out," he told her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She whimpered, holding onto his sleeve as if it were the sole thing that could possibly sustain her.
Behind them, the watchtower was ablaze. Flames roared through the rubble, filling the air with the scent of ash and rock.
Then—footsteps.
From the smoke emerged Seris, her sword halfway drawn. The instant her eyes fell upon Asthia, she stiffened—her gaze narrowing, keen with fury and distrust.
"Seris," Reth said, ending the silence. "Help her."
She gave Reth a stern glare. "You actually want me to help her?"
"Either stand there," Reth snarled, "or help me."
Seris's eyes darted from Elenya's burnt blisters to Asthia's white, trembling form. She cursed and pushed her sword back into its scabbard.
Asthia gave her a sideways glare, her eyes clenching. "You… You. What are you doing here?"
Seris's lip twisted. "Rescuing your useless hide, it seems."
