“Well?”
My lips twitch. Anyone would thinkshewas the commander and me her underling with the way she demands information.
“There’s a hollow to the north. It’ll do until we can find something better. Four hours at a decent pace.”
“Four hours for someone moving at full speed, you mean.”She rises, brushing dust from her knees. “Wewon’t be moving at full speed.”
“No.”
“The horses will help.” She waves a hand toward the canvas. “I’ve counted twelve that are serviceable. The draft animals can pull the carts. The riding horses can carry supplies or support anyone who needs them.”
Twelve. More than I expected.
“How many can we put on carts?”
“That depends.” She meets my eyes. “How many are we taking with us?”
“The count hasn’t changed. There are thirty functional, twenty who just need some time. The rest?—”
“There are twenty-four who won’t make it, no matter how much you wish otherwise.”
“Twenty-four?”
“I checked this morning.” Her voice is flat. “Three died during the night. They can’t eat, can’t drink, and won’t respond to anything. They will slow us down, drain our resources and die anyway, whether it’s today, tomorrow, or next week.”
I stay silent. I know what’s coming next.
“We discussed this yesterday, Cairn.” She steps closer, lowering her voice even though there’s no one nearby to hear. “If they can’t come back, we give them peace. That was your decision. But it needs to happen before we leave. Not somewhere down the road when we’re already exhausted, hunted, and can’t afford the delay.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrow. “Because you’re standing there looking like you’d rather fight a hundred humans than do what needs to be done.”
The rage that lives in my chest has been burning steadilysince the collar came off, fed by every death I’ve dealt and every cage I’ve emptied. But this is different. This isn’t killing enemies. This is killing my own people.
“Some of them were warriors,” I say quietly. “Before.”
“Before.” Vel’s mouth twists. “Before meansnothingnow. What matters is what they are, and what they are is already dead. The iron burned everything out of them. There’s nothing left to save.”
“Caelum—”
“Caelum is different. He’s one of us. He twitched … once. That’s more than any of the others have managed.” She holds my gaze. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about the others. The ones whose hearts beat but nothing else functions. They’re already gone, Cairn. They’re nothing more than animated shells.”
I close my eyes, and sigh. “I’ll do it.”
“No.Wewill do it. You and me. Therin, if we need him, but I’d rather not.” She pauses. “It needs to be quick and clean. They deserve that much.”
They deserve more than that. They deserve to have never been caged in the first place. They deserve the lives that were stolen from them, and the centuries they should have had.
But we don’t always get what we deserve. I know that better than most.
I nod slowly. The rage in my chest has turned cold. This is command. This is what it means to lead. Making decisions that keep you awake at night, that carve pieces out of you one at a time until there’s nothing left but the duty itself.
“Show me the list.”
The barracks is quiet when we enter.
Vel has marked the ones who won’t recover—small symbols on each pallet or cot. I memorize their faces as we move through the room. These are fae who will never see the hollow to the north, never feel grass beneath their feet again, and never know that they died free instead of caged.
