Because if the saints walked among us last night, if they bestowed their blessings upon us mere mortals, Marcus would have their blessing too.
* * *
Smoke still risesfrom the ground as we cross the quad, but it’s not smoke in the air that makes me tear up. Saints above, the campus looks like a war zone. Septagrams are etched into the ground, purple-black magic crackling through them as the brands sink lower into the earth, just like the Ever Ember sank through the flesh of my honor guard, my stern professor, and my teenage love.
The earth is cleaved, great gashes carved into the ground, scorched from the dark magic cast by the Soldiers of Saint Aldous, by the ensuing magic as Fairhaven fought back. Downed branches block the walkways through the quad, the wood of some of Fairhaven’s oldest oaks, blackened by hexes that missed their marks.
Better the trees than the students and the professors, who, even after working the night through, are trying to heal the wounds that tear through our campus, to stop the bleeding.
“Ian, what are you doing out with this student?”
Professor Cadigan pockets his scribe and walks over to us, clapping Ian on the back by way of greeting.
Ian slants a quick look at me and quirks a faint smile. “Miss Rose set up a triage area in the omega lodge last night. Doc has asked for her report. We’re headed toward the infirmary.”
Curious. Cadigan is a close friend of Ian’s, the mentor he looks up to and sings the praises of. The older professor knows all about our research, and yet Ian doesn’t mention my strange magic to him. Is my affinity that dangerous or does Ian not trust him?
“And she needed you to escort her?”
“A favor to Mai.”
“We need you eradicating dark magic from the grounds.”
Ian quirks a brow. “And you’ll have me after Mai’s done with me. If you’ll excuse us, I’ll report back as soon as I can.”
I frown up at my professor as we continue on, but he shoots me a suppressive frown and shakes his head just enough for me to catch it.
* * *
If the campusdrew tears to my eyes, the infirmary is what makes those tears fall.
Every last bed is full.
Students and professors of all designations fill the beds and every available chair. A few students are even sleeping on cots set up between the beds.
But it’s Alyssa who draws a ragged sob from me.
My best friend is curled up on a cot outside Doc’s office, her arm in a thick cast, her head on her alpha’s lap. Darika watches the infirmary with murder in her dark gaze as if daring anyone to wake her sleeping omega.
But Alyssa does stir at my sob and lurches up. “Junie!”
Despite Darika’s squawk of protest, Alyssa hobbles over to me and hugs me as tightly as she can with one arm. “Oh, thank the saints. It’s good to see you in one piece.”
“I’m fine,” I promise, looking down at her, at the bruises on her pretty face, the singe marks on her good hand. She wears exhaustion like a mantle, her shoulders rounded with it. Fatigue streaks dark bags beneath her eyes and she wobbles as if a stiff enough breeze would blow her over.
“Go back to your alpha,” I tell her in a soft voice. “Get some rest. I’ll try to visit later if I’m allowed.”
“Pft, I think you’re allowed just about anywhere you want to go at this point. I heard what you did last night.”
I smile faintly. “I only did what you did—and you did it all with a broken arm.”
“Compound fracture, even,” she says, hoisting up her cast for my inspection.
“Bitsy’s going to draw dicks all over that.”
Alyssa beams despite her exhaustion. “I can’t wait, actually. At least Bitsy drawing dicks on stuff feels normal. Unlike all of this.” She looks out over the full beds with a sigh.
“No,” Darika growls. “You sit your sweet ass back down. No more rounds. Let Doc do it.”
