Emillie knelt beside a dhemon, face taut with focus as she and weary Margot worked together to stitch the blue skin together along his abdomen. Across the tent, a bleary-eyed Revelie wrapped a salve-covered injury with a fresh bandage and spoke in a quiet tone to another dhemon who likely did not understand a word she uttered. Further back, Phulan’s hands flared with the healing magic, dark circles under her eyes from the constant drain on her body.
It was Revelie who looked up first. Her dark eyes did not seem to register them for who they were for several long heartbeats. The number of people who had come in and out of the tent all day would most definitely have taken a toll on her. Or, perhaps, Ariadne’s wounds had been far worse than she imagined and muddied her visage.
The moment her mind registered who stood at the entrance, however, Revelie launched to her feet. “You’re alive!”
Every possible head in the tent turned in their direction. The moans of pain shifted to surprise and joy as the patients, too, recognized them for who they were: their King and Queen.
Before Ariadne could say anything in response, two bodies slammed into her. Air punched from her lungs, and she choked out a laugh as she hugged her sister and friend in return.
Then the tears came.
“I have been so worried,” Emillie said, then she pulled back with wide eyes. “Is Luce—”
“Luce is well,” Ariadne confirmed. Anticipating the next question from Revelie, she added, “As is Jakhov. I am surprised neither has come back yet.”
A wizened voice carried over the others: “I am grateful for you, Grandson.”
Looking back, Ariadne found Margot holding Azriel’s face in her hands as she spoke her words of love—a far kinder greeting than what came next, for the moment the Original vampire stepped back, Phulan took her place.
The mage stood tall and grabbed Azriel by the horn, giving his head a shake that verged on too rough. “The battle ended well over an hour ago, boy. Where have you been?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Scared, Phulan?”
“About losing the likes of you?” She swatted his face with a bloodied cloth that she had just wiped her hands on. “You’re just fortunate I’ve beenbusyor I would’ve tracked you down myself.”
“You’re fortunate you didn’t have to track me down in the Underworld,” Azriel snapped.
Ariadne drove her elbow into his gut. The surprise blow left him wheezing. “That was rude.”
He shrugged, and Phulan tried to hide her own smirk. “I’d do it and drag you back here, kicking and screaming if I must, to get you to finally finish what you started.”
“Do they always bicker like this?” Revelie asked in a hushed tone.
It was Margot who responded with a huff. “Far more often than one would imagine.”
“I have put far too much time and effort into you,” Phulan said, “to let you die now.”
While Ariadne did not have much experience to lean on herself, she imagined the way the two of them fought—Phulan with her strict commands and high expectations alongside Azriel, who tried to appease her at every turn—was something akin to a mother and son. A relationship that neither of them had otherwise. Except Azriel was not Phulan’s only child in this case—allthe dhemons were, for they looked to her with reverence even when they did not know her name. It was almost as though Kall spoke to them from the Underworld, whispering to them about how they needed to follow her instructions with snarky deference.
When they finally departed from the medic tent to clean and prepare for nightfall, Ariadne felt lighter than she had when leaving the streets of Monsumbra. Her sister was safe. Revelie was safe. Everyone she loved, who was present in Eastwood Province, was safe.
Azriel paused to speak with Boti, the high fae in charge of that company of their soldiers. He agreed to send a handful of his people into Monsumbra to convince those who had yet to evacuate to do so by nightfall—a critical job, what with the dragons preparing to join the battle against the Caersans. Failure to leave before the next siege on the city could result in a fiery death.
“We will only use flame as a last resort,” Razer reminded them both, his voice quiet in Ariadne’s mind due to Almandine’s greater distance from the battle.
Still, the smaller dragon’s attention perked up, and her consciousness grew stronger as she no doubt moved to a more advantageous position. “The mages and fae have been practicing extinguishing it.”
Annoyance rippled out from Razer. “Keep to your duties,Almandine.They will get too cold if you leave them.”
Ariadne reached out to her bondheart with a gentle touch. “Stay safe.”
“I should be saying the same to you,” Almandine quipped as she retreated into the cave somewhere high above them, where she stood guard over what remained of the clutch. “You’re in far more danger than I.”
At that, Azriel grit his teeth. “Enough talk of that.”
Silence fell between them, no one daring to question why they needed to cease.
Together, Ariadne and Azriel stepped into their tent and stripped off their armor and clothes. They piled up the linens to be washed before they each turned to a large basin of cold water. In silence, they dipped their cloths into it and began peeling the blood from their skin.
