The warriorsI’d left at the second compound finally returned with our missing fae. They were in much worse condition than the previous fae. Death clung to many of them like a second layer of skin.
“There were too many soldiers,” Everly told me. “More than we anticipated. While Finley’s magic killed most of the soldiers, those it didn’t touch came after Finley with all their fury and manpower.” My friend took in a shaky breath, and I waited for her to continue. “Her magic was all but gone. She couldn’t protect herself, and when Brenton saw her in peril . . .” She shook her head, running a hand over her blood-smattered face. “Brenton lost control of his magic. It was as if it erupted with a new purpose, and his smoke magic burned and choked the remaining soldiers. There was no direction to his attacks. He fought ruthlessly, striking down anyone who posed a threat to his mate. I don’t know how it happened, but his magic caused a massive explosion, killing not only civilians but also wounding Hayden, who’d tried to hold thecivilians back. Leah’s working on him now. But I don’t know, Elias. Hayden may not make it.”
Truthfully, I understood Brenton’s rage. I’d lived his rage, so I couldn’t fault him. He’d feared for his mate’s life so his instincts took over.
“It’s not just his right arm that isn’t salvageable, but his lungs,” Everly continued. “The fire wasn’t an ordinary fire. I think it was a fire born of magic.”
“How can that be?” I asked.
George rounded the corner, immediately pulling Everly to his chest. She held herself still for a few beats before she melted into his embrace.
I left them, keeping my suspicion and questions tightly wound against my chest. But if the humans somehow had magic, I needed the alliance Nalari had forged in her absence.
But at what cost?
This raid had been a disaster. We’d been too late to rescue too many of the fae, and we’d lost seven of our warriors while even more warriors had been gravely injured.
I’d fought many battles over the years, but I hadn’t directed them. It was moments like these that I wished I’d had more time to grow into a true leader.
“You have the shifters’ loyalty now. Hundreds of dragons, shifters, and thunderbirds are at your disposal. We have just over one hundred of your fae living among us. They’re all ready to join you on your raids.”
Nalari’s words brought a modicum of comfort. Spending that time with her had come at just the right moment.
Yet, despite the explosion that had almost killed Hayden, Brenton's loss of control over his magic had allowed this raid to be successful. Although I wasn’t suresuccesswas the correct term.
It was done, though.
It grated on me that I hadn’t been able to personallygo through the homes and question the people, but I trusted George, Donnie, and Garrison to handle it, along with the other truth-tellers they took with them.
I was needed at the castle, for a thousand different things but I was grateful Teddy put herself in charge of taking down the names of the few fae well enough to go back home so she could contact their loved ones once the truth-tellers cleared them. Unfortunately, there simply weren’t that many well enough to do so, and we were running out of room in the castle to keep the sick and injured.
It was rare for fae to fall so ill, but my generation had never experienced these severe circumstances. Guardians, it must’ve been millennia since something this catastrophic had occurred.
It wasn’t simply that the fae had been imprisoned with iron, and food and water were withheld, but that they’d been forced to use their magic until, for many, it’d been depleted entirely without hope of it ever returning. With the iron weakening them and their magic all but gone, those with healing magic couldn’t heal themselves or others. Even those without healing magic, fae were known for how quickly we mended, but under such dire circumstances, their bodies simply couldn’t keep up.
Those who suffered through torture had severe breaks and ruptures that had been left unattended for so long, some injuries might never be fully healed.
In addition to that, the tireless way our healers worked lessened their energy and magic, and there simply wasn’t enough that could be done for the injured or sick fae.
After speaking to the director of the higher-level school, we were able to move those without fatal injuries to the school. It meant our healers were divided, but we kept thosemost skilled in the castle to treat the more severe. Those with lesser injuries waited in the back corridor of the third floor to be transported to the school, where they would be treated and kept until they could go home.
While Kieren had gone through the injured in search of his father, he’d waited for Teddy to search for him among the group of the deceased. Again, his father hadn’t been there, and I felt that weight of disappointment grow heavier.
The smell of blood and death lingered in my nostrils and on my clothes despite my bathing and changing into fresh clothes. It trailed me, seeming to drag my battered heart along with it.
When would it end?Guardians help us all, when would it end?
Needing to do something to expel all that pent-up energy, I made my way to the room where I’d last seen Finley to see if Brenton was still at her bedside. Finley remained unconscious on the bed with another injured fae on a bed beside her and three on bed mats that Alastor had provided for us. Frustrated when I didn’t see Brenton, I stepped out of the room quietly so I wouldn’t disturb any of them. Room by room, I opened the doors to see if he was in there. At the end of the third-floor corridor, I heard his angry whisper. When a male voice I recognized as one of our healers rose in agitation, I rushed toward them.
Anger replaced the crestfallen expression Brenton had worn when they’d first arrived. I stepped between the two males.
“What’s going on?” I asked in a whisper, hoping the commotion wouldn’t disturb those who needed to rest.
“He won’t tend to Etienne,” Brenton said. I looked back atthe closed door Brenton pointed toward. “He’s in there,” Brenton said. “Banged up and unconscious.”
“He isn’t a priority,” Padern retorted.
“No,” Brenton snarled in return. “Following Dela around is your priority.”
