They were descending the steps when one of the Stormwind guards raced toward them. Anduin ran lightly down the rest of the way to meet him. The others followed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The guard caught his breath, but when he spoke, it was not to his king. “Lady Tyrande—there’s been an attack—evacuations—beginning. Refugees—coming through portals.”
Tyrande went very still. For a moment, she looked like a statue, even more beautiful than Haidene in the Temple of the Moon. Only the vein beating rapidly at her throat broke the illusion. Then: “Take me to them.”