Erik turned from the window. The third mortar shell chose that exact moment to strike. A brilliant flash lit the hall through the window, followed an instant later by a concussion so powerful that dust rained from the rafters and several torches guttered out.
The outer wall shuddered visibly, and a great section of parapet crumbled away.
At the moment the thunder faded, Erik's hands clenched into fists at his sides.
He had faced death in open battle, had blackmailed kings and murdered rivals... Yet never before had he watched an enemy strike from beyond the reach of any bow or spear.
Eira stepped closer. "My brother, the men are watching you. They need the Gore-King now more than ever. Though the walls tremble, your will must not."
