Descending the stairs on wooden legs, Ren tried to catch Thais' eyes, to try to get some sense of whether he was all right, but his brother refused to meet his gaze as the commander came to a stop in the centre of the courtyard. If Thais was here, then Halvard's plans had changed. Whatever the reason, it couldn't be good news. The fear that Ren might have to watch this man slit his brother's throat and discard his body on the icy cobblestones made it hard to breathe.

The commander looked left and right, then waved a hand to his men. “Kill the archers.”

The snapping of bowstrings against wood sounded before Ren could even comprehend those three terrible words. Around him, men fell from the ramparts like sacks of grain and hit the ground with sickly sounds.

“You promised,” Ren screamed, running for the commander, hand closed tight around the hilt of his sword. “You promised they wouldn't be hurt!” He didn't even get to draw the blade halfway from its sheath before several pairs of arms locked around his and forced him down onto the hard stone. A second later, a fist aimed at his jaw sent him scrambling and he spat blood onto the ground, fingers numb from cold as he pushed himself back upright.

“It's too late for that,” the commander said.

“Father!” A small figure darted from the shadows of the keep and out into the courtyard. The sound of his panicked breaths filled the air, the boy's sobs the only sound to be heard as he threw himself towards one of the dead archers on the ground. A Skarlan soldier caught the boy with an arm over his chest and hauled him back towards the centre of the courtyard. Lyle's face was streaked with tears as he kicked and thrashed in the soldier's grip.

“Let him go.” Anik's voice was raised to be heard over the boy's cries and Ren turned to see dozens of swords aimed at the Lowlander. “He's just a boy.”

The commander watched the scene with curious fascination, like a child playing with an ant hill. At the front of his saddle, Thais sat with his eyes trained on his own hands, the knife still pressed to his throat.

With a furious cry, Lyle drew a short dagger from his belt and drove it into the stomach of the guard holding him. The man let out a choked sound, dropping the boy on the ground with an expression of pure shock on his face. Dark blood trickled from a deep gash in his abdomen.

The commander's eyes narrowed and he gestured for a soldier, who stepped forward, raising his sword.

“No!” The word tore its way out of Ren's throat as he threw himself against the hands of the men holding him, but it was too late.

Dark rivulets of blood ran down Lyle's front as the soldier sliced his throat with the edge of his sword.