“Find anyone who’s willing to bring my supplies from the tower to the kitchen.”
The first thing in a mass casualty situation was to begin tagging the wounded and creating a triage. The sheer size of the kitchen would accommodate her needs, along with having access to fireplaces and water, but the real necessity of the kitchen was its proximity to the bay.
“Amaris, mystiques don’t go into battle.”
She took a sharp breath. “This one does.”
Pulling from Pricilla’s grasp, she took off with a force of pure determination toward the kitchen. The manor had been ripped into complete confusion and chaos. All around her, soldiers spilled through the halls with their swords raised and piercing gleams in their eyes. But Amaris could only focus on the beating of her heart and the possible number of bodies piling up beyond the manor walls.
Amaris squeezed through the crowds of people, cold sweat beading down her back. Another blast shook the walls, extinguishing several torches.
“If you can’t fight, head to the library for safety!” she shouted, confidently.
A few people nearby watched in horror as she charged against the swarm toward the battle. Others heeded her warning and bolted for the library.
She didn’t know what she expected to find or how she’d even begin setting up a triage for a disaster of this magnitude, but she was going to try her damnedest to save as many people as she could. Fuck the duke and Bennet. No one deserved to die because of them. She’d fight to stay and help, even if she paid for it later.
Once in the kitchen, she leaned into her knees, choking back the taste of iron. The doors leading to the gardens were barricaded with tables, chairs, anything to keep out the enemy,and the wounded soldiers.
Amaris immediately began pulling at chairs, but a sharp voice halted her movements.
“Get away from the barricade!”
She spun on her heels to face Alan with his sword clutched in his hand, ready to pounce. Screams broke out on the other side of the doors. The hairs along her arms spiked.
“Someone could be injured,” she snapped back, stepping closer and forcing Alan back.
Pounding came from the barricade and a muffled scream. As Amaris ran to begin dragging tables away, another explosion blasted against the manor wall. Dust fell from the ceiling, and the chandelier rattled, sending candles to the ground to extinguish and further wrap them in the darkness of the dimly lit kitchen. Even more screams came from the other side, and fists beat against the door.
“I’m moving these tables with or without you.”
Alan didn’t latch his arm around her or drag her back as she threw chairs out of the way and shoved tables to the side.
“I was instructed that, under no circumstance, should this barricade to be moved!”
“Someone’s hurt and could be dying.”
Alan took several agonizing heartbeats, as his hand tightened around his sword. His eyes swept over Amaris and shifted to the continuous shouts of the soldiers on the other side, growing with their anxiety to make it inside.
People needed Amaris’s help, and all she had to do was move the stupid barricade. She threw her back into a table and grunted as she slid it across the floor. As she leapt toward the barricade to grab another, Alan gripped the other side of the table and dragged it away. She balked but pressed forward. Her time to stop and think was over. She could only act.
Soon, a path was formed, and Amaris removed the wooden plank holding the doors closed. They busted open, and Gerard barreled into the room with a man slung over his shoulder.
“Where’s Ms. Borstad?” he shouted, setting the man on the nearest table
Ms. Borstad?Amaris questioned why he would be calling for her when a useful paramedic was standing right in front of him.
At the sound of her name, Ms. Borstad came running, but at the sight of the blood, she stopped, and her eyes widened. “What can I do?” She peeled her attention from Gerard and swung her gaze to Amaris.
Gerard leaned over the wounded man, pressing his hand against the blood seeping from a gash in his leg. “This man needs attention.”
Ms. Borstad’s eyes lingered on Amaris as she stood with her hands balled into fists at her sides. The audacity. Gerard shot Amaris a disdainful glare before he sneered and pounded his fist on the table. The man’s near-lifeless body shook upon the impact.
Amaris stood with her spine erect and her heart beating against the cavity within her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her mind tunneling. “Ms. Borstad, I need as much cloth as you can muster, and I need the tools and herbs brought down from my tower. Pricilla should—”
“I’m here,” Pricilla announced with a large basket in hand.
Amaris ran and threw her arms around her. “Thank you,” she said. “Now get back to the library.”
