I detected no desire in his voice, but there was a definitive undercurrent of fierce protectiveness.
“How many came?” I asked quietly, smiling and nodding to a pair of passing Vessels as they made their way into the mess hall.
“Hundreds. Some are with her and Asha in the healing quarters, others went straight to the food and drink that Faylinn helped set up.”
“We have enough?” I asked, scratching the stubble on my jaw.
“For the next few days, yes. A few of the tavern owners in the lower districts offered to bring whatever provisions they have left, but Faylinn told them to keep it. Tonight was made as a way to come together, but I suspect she has a plan for each of the districts going forward. You’d be wise to listen to her,” he said with a terse nod before striding away, blending into the shadows once more.
There was a heaviness to him that wasn’t there before, though we all changed in unexpected ways.
I sighed as I adjusted the tome beneath my arm and crossed the hall toward the open classroom, intent on finding Faylinn, hoping she had time for me.
There was much we had to discuss.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Faylinn
“There,” I said, tying a tight bandage around a little girl’s arm. Her doll sported a matching wrap, and I kissed both lightly, much to her amusement. She couldn’t have been older than five, her little giggles kickstarting my heart once more and thawing the healer’s persona I’d adopted once I returned to the Academy.
It was easy to lose myself in the methodical nature of healing, of assessing for injuries and treating what I could. The last time I’d done this, the Bondsmith—my mother—insisted I save my blood and Rune Magic for only the most extreme of cases.
I held no such restraint now.
A child was plagued by nightmares? I inscribed a rune to help ease their sleep.
A woman with a gash that wouldn’t stop bleeding? I tattooed a rune to help staunch the blood flow and knit her skin together.
A husband who wanted to forget the memory of his home collapsing, burying his wife and three children alive? I etched runes of forgetting and healing around his brow.
By the time Asha and I had worked through nearly all the patients from the lower districts, I was shaking and near exhaustion, the loss of blood taking a far greater toll than I ever expected.
“You need to rest,” Asha grumbled as she helped the little girl down from my makeshift exam table and escorted her back into her mother’s waiting arms. The mother—now a widow and missing two of her eldest children—smiled at me gratefully before wrapping the little girl in a hug.
I smiled wistfully at their retreating backs, sitting heavily in a chair to catch my breath.
“Here,” Asha said, shoving a water skin in my face and gesturing to a plate of meat and cheeses. “Eat. Drink. I don’t want to be subject to the General’s harsh questioning and explosive ire if you pass out.”
I rolled my eyes, doubtful the reticent General d’Alvey would have any such reaction, but obligingly popped a slice of cheese and dried meat in my mouth before washing it all down with a generous sip of water. Even if it all tasted like ash against my tongue, Asha was right. I needed to keep my strength if I wanted to keep helping in whatever capacity I could.
“You’re good with them,” the fiery redhead said as she sank into the chair next to me, both of us grateful for the brief reprieve.
Many of the survivors from the lower districts flocked to the Academy this evening in search of healing and a hot meal. I had no doubts that more would come in the following days once their friends returned, speaking of the generosity of General d’Alvey and the Academy.
I smiled to myself, thinking of how much Rohak hated his new position, but how good it already looked on him.
He was made to lead, made to help people.
“Fay?” Asha asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“Sorry. Stuck in my own thoughts,” I mused.
She laughed, hand coming to clutch her belly.
“It’s fine. I said that you’re good with them—kids,” she added with a slight tick of her eyebrows again.
I hummed and popped another cube of cheese in my mouth.
