"Your brother would be proud of you," Gran said. "You kept your head and helped in any way you could."
"What else was I supposed to do?"
"Oh, sweetheart." She squeezed my shoulder. "Not everyone can face blood and pain and keep working like you and Shovia did. Your mother can't, and there's no shame in that, but you and Dylon got your healer touch from your father, who got it from me, and your warriors' hearts from your grandfather, blessed be his memory."
As always, when mentioning my grandfather, tears appeared in Grandma's eyes. He'd died when I was six, so I didn'tremember much, but photos of him were strewn around the house, and he'd looked a lot like my father—a tall, strong man with a kind smile.
"Your Elurian friend over there reminds me of my Dravon." Gran motioned with her chin at Alar. "A born leader."
She was right. Alar had that rare quality that made others instinctively follow, even hardened Elucians who normally didn't hold Elurians in high esteem.
Shovia picked up the bags with what was left of Gran's medical supplies. "Let's make one last walkabout to make sure that everyone has been taken care of, and if we are not needed, we should return these to the apothecary."
I nodded, but my eyes were drawn back to the destroyed stage and to Alar and his team, who were still clearing debris to make sure no one was buried under it.
Gran straightened and stretched her back. "Your father is waving me over. I'll head back with him." She reached for one of the bags Shovia was holding. "I'll take this one with me."
I looked at my father and gave him a reassuring smile while miming that Shovia and I were going for another round to see if anyone needed help.
Returning my smile, he gave me a thumbs-up.
As I watched my grandmother walk away with my father, I let out a breath and thanked Elu that none of my family had been hurt.
We'd been lucky today—if you could call several dead and many wounded lucky. But it could have been much worse, and once again, I had Chicha to thank for sounding the alarm.
20
ALAR
"A truth quietly spoken in darkness often carries a profound significance once illuminated by the passage of time."
—Elurian Proverb
"Alar!" Kailin called out. "We need help over here!"
I hurried over to where she and Shovia were kneeling beside a large-framed man with a chest wound. His breathing was labored, and blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage they'd applied.
Recognizing him as the other worker who had been decorating the stage, I wondered how he'd gotten a chest wound and then managed to walk from the front of the plaza to the back.
"He is too heavy for us to lift and get to the medics," Shovia said.
"How did he get here?" I asked.
"He was walking and then suddenly collapsed right next to us," Kailin said.
My hackles rose, but I reminded myself that I wasn't in a position to investigate. I could, however, make my suspicions known.
"Codric," I called out. "We need you here."
Together, we carefully lifted the man while the girls kept pressure on his wound. It was an awkward shuffle, but we managed to get him to the medics, who rushed to take over his care.
The guy seemed to be in critical condition, and I doubted they could save him.
"I saw him working next to the stage," I said. "I can't imagine how he got hit in the chest and then kept wandering around for nearly an hour."
Shovia frowned. "That doesn't seem right. I'd better tell someone."
I was glad that she'd picked up on my suspicion, and I didn't need to spell it out for her.
