“An orphanage?”
“Or a family who wants a child.”
“An extra mouth to feed.”
Anger flared in my chest. “Are you suggesting we leave it here?”
“No. Fuck, no, but …”
“We’ll manage.” Zane had joined us, and his tone brooked no argument. He reached out tentatively, then stopped. “May I?”
I shifted the baby so he could see better.
His expression softened completely. “Hello, little one. What’s your name?” He frowned. “Boy or girl?”
I hadn’t checked. “Does it make a difference?” In Legacia, girls weren’t worth saving.
“Just curious.” He looked back at the devastation. “It’ll be hours before we can leave.”
We needed to find a warm place to care for the baby. “Why stay here?”
Remy scanned the ruins, jaw firm. “Someone should bury the dead.”
His words hit me. I’d been so focused on the child in my arms that I’d forgotten what lay beneath the ash and rubble. People. Families. Children who hadn’t survived. “Oh.” I hugged the infant closer. “That’s very … decent of you.”
Exhaustion creased his face, and for an instant he looked … sad. “It’s the only decent thing to do.” Then he remembered who he was talking to and sneered. “Besides, it was Zane’s idea.”
Chapter
Forty-Nine
HAVEN
With Flynn’s fire, I defrosted a large patch of earth. Then, holding the baby—a girl—in my arms, I watched Remy and Zane dig a mass grave.
I turned away when they began adding bodies, then scolded myself for being weak. One of the bodies belonged to the baby’s mother. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to watch as Remy and Zane gently laid the dead to rest.
“Did nians do this?” My voice was barely a whisper.
But Zane heard me. “No,” he replied. “Not violent enough.”
I shuddered.
“A Legacian raiding party?” Remy’s rage infused each word.
“How would they get past the ward?” I’d used wyvern venom, but mythical acid wasn’t available to just anyone.
He grunted; my question had him stumped.
The baby, whose color was better now that she was warm, let out a tiny cry.
I brushed a finger across her rose-petal cheek. “She’s hungry.”
Zane frowned. “What do we feed her?”
“We can strain gruel.”
Remy, who held the charred remains of a villager in his arms, wrinkled his nose. “Gruel? Seriously?”
