Talbot was off before Vellia could even realize what was going on, and for a moment, she stood there, stunned. [i]He . . . he's trying to play the hero, but he knows he stands no chance.[/i] She wanted to run after him, but he was too far ahead. She wouldn't be able to catch up. Reluctantly, she followed his order to return to camp and warn the others.

Ambra got there first, though, due to Vellia's hesitation. But when she arrived, Vellia wasted no time in helping everyone pack and with lifting the unconscious to the steeds. She had none of her own, but she didn't mind having to walk. What of Talbot? Would they see him again? Though Vellia was certain he was skilled, she knew he was no match for the mightiest of the Ylisseans. She felt like her gut was doing backflips. She could have, should have, stopped him. There was no need for a sacrifice. They might have been able to get away if their most skilled people had formed a diversion while the others readied themselves. They had the manpower for that, didn't they?

But it was too late now. What was done was done, and there was no changing that. Vellia ran alongside the horses as they galloped away, and she felt a single tear fall from her eye.