“No, but we will. For now, let’s focus on the rescue.”
Another crack of power slams through the building overhead. Dust rains from the ceiling. Something heavy collapses somewhere above us with a grinding roar.
“It’s time for you and your friends to go.” Garrison waves over a man in black tactical gear. “Rexton, these two next.”
When he gestures to my sisters, I exhale a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
He dips his chin. “Thank me when everyone is safe and recovered.”
Another thunderous crack splits the air above us, and Wylder, Orion, and Asher close in around me.
Rexton vanishes with the two tables my sisters are bound to and Garrison takes my hand. “Everyone take hold. It’s time for you to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Isit in an upholstered leather chair between the two recovery beds at the Order of the Arcane infirmary. My younger sisters remain unconscious, their chests rising and falling in relaxed, rhythmic breathing.
But no matter how often the healers assure me they'll make a full recovery, I can’t relax. Iwon’trelax until they open their eyes and tell me they’re all right.
They've been unconscious for days.
Beyond the room, the infirmary hums with quiet efficiency. Magical healers of several races move between beds, tending to the rescued witches.
There are close to fifty of them, all in various states of recovery. The Order of the Arcane is as impressive as it is elite. I still have no idea how I gained access to it, but after everything the empowered world has taken from me, I’ll happily accept my sisters being rescued and cared for as a make-up gift.
“Still here, are you?” Garrison’s deep timbre greets me as he fills the doorway to the ward. His expression is tired and somber.
“Yeah. I need to be here.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
He grunts softly and steps into the ward to stand at the end of Violet’s bed. “If you change your mind, I give you my word you will be notified the moment they wake up.”
I shrug. “I figure they laid there waiting for me to come for five years. It’s nothing for me to sit here for a few days.”
He nods. “Do you want to be left alone, or would you like an update?”
I stand and stretch. “If you’re here to tell me Laurel’s been found and will suffer for the rest of her life, I’m all ears.”
“If only life were that kind. We’ve figured out how she escaped despite our block on portal energy, and I have all our resources working to track her down. Not to mention, the Dravens are highly motivated to exact their revenge.”
“As they should be.”
“No argument. But in the meantime, we must be content with what successes we achieved. Forty-seven witches were rescued, ages ranging from eleven to twenty-three, and most will make full recoveries because of you."
“It was your people who found and rescued them.”
His dark eyes find mine. "You stood your ground and took Laurel on when no one else saw what she was. You rallied the forces, and fought for the freedom of your sisters."
I shrug as the weight of it settles over me. Forty-seven lives. Forty-seven families disrupted or destroyed. “No offense, but I hope the Dravens find her before your people. She deserves more than a cell in an empowered prison.”
“Well, Sienna Draven is a very powerful and motivated woman. I have no doubt she will destroy worlds to find Laurel and make her suffer.”
The conversation falls quiet, and I search the depths of my conscience to find any moral objection I might have to the torture and destruction of a woman who was once a friend to my family.
I’ve got nothing. Laurel Cromwell deserves every ounce of suffering coming to her.
