I squeezed his wrist. “Then let’s not waste it.”
We foundMilo in the hospital wing. The scent of healing herbs, disinfectants, and steam from several boiling cauldrons rammed into us as we entered. Some of the older Alchemist refugees were running from bed to bed, wrapping bandages around the injured and murmuring spells at their bedsides. Most of the wounded were sleeping, but a couple were alert and propped up in their beds.
I caught Everett sitting at the edge of one near the entrance. He had a black eyepatch over one eye, with the tip of a bandage peeking out beneath.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Like I should be helping, not sitting here,” he grumbled. “It’s just a cut.”
Tessa, who was folding more cloths into bandages at the shelf next to him, scoffed. “You almost had your eye taken out.”
Everett pointed to the patch. “She’s trying to convince me to leave it.”
“It makes you look sexy. In a roughed-up sort of way,” Tessa said.
He shot her a scowl. “It makes me look ridiculous.”
“At least it’s just your eye,” a quiet voice said from a bed behind Everett. Milo stood with his back facing us, mixing something in a mortar and pouring it into a glass vial.
Tessa instantly sobered. “Milo, I’m sorry. I?—”
“Don’t.” Milo shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I’m just—” He turned and scrubbed a hand down his tired face. “Let me know if you need a pain spell, Everett.”
The young Alchemist ignored Tessa when she tried to reach for him. He headed straight for a bed in the back where Hope, a young Shifter, lay. There was a huge lump on the side of her head oozing black pus, and she winced as Milo gently dabbed oil onto the spot.
“Maybe we should find someone else to do the spell,” I said to Nox, turning my back so nobody else could hear me. I didn’t want to ask more of Milo. He’d done so much tonight, all while dealing with the loss of his mentor.
Nox gave me a soft, grim smile. “A wise woman once told me I can’t keep forcing others to sit out while we face hardships. I’ll let him make the choice for himself. He’ll never forgive me if we do this without him.”
I nodded, and Nox pulled Milo to the side when he was done bandaging his patient. “Milo,” he started, his voice tender and careful. “How are you doing?”
The boy rubbed at his eyes, which were bloodshot and weary. Purple circles rested beneath them. His freckles were more pronounced than ever, and a sheen of sweat shone on his forehead.
He didn’t look like the same nervous, innocent young man I’d come to know the last few weeks. I watched the nineteen-year-old Alchemist snap a man’s neck with a swish of his hand tonight. I wondered if, like me, that was his first time taking someone’s life. The first time to feel blood on his hands and know he would be changed forever.
“I think they’re all going to make it,” he said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “It’ll be a long night, though.”
Nox put a hand on Milo’s shoulder. “I asked aboutyou.”
Milo sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Nox. I can’t think about it. He would want me to make sure everyone else is taken care of, so that’s what I’m doing.For him.”
Nox and I shared a glance. “There’s something else we think you might be able to do for him, if you’re up for it,” Nox finally said.
Milo’s eyes shot up. “Anything.”
“Hey now, are you three planning something?” Tessa asked. She finished folding the last of the bandages. “I want in.”
Everett threw off his blanket. “Me too.”
Nox sighed. “Fine. Might as well get Kieran and Arowyn. Where are they?”
“They’re burning the bodies out front,” Milo said quietly. “Go get them. I’ll make sure the healers can take it from here.”
Once our entire group was assembled, we rushed to the workshop. Milo faltered when he reached the table in front of the Alchemist’s cabinets. Silas’s Grimoire was still open to the last page he’d used, his bag of herbs spilling out over the top.
A wave of loss washed over the space. I could still picture his hunched form leaning over those pages, his spectacles fogging with steam from his potions. The way he’d straighten his back and brush his hands on his apron when someone tried to talk to him. How he’d clean his glasses on his sweater in moments of deep thought.
Milo’s hand rested on the table. He hadthousandsof those moments with his mentor. I had the sudden urge to wrap this lanky boy in my arms and protect him from the rest of the world. I rubbed a hand up and down his back, wishing I could comfort him, but he flinched away from my touch.
