Kaelias answered, “I saw him last with a group of Mages to the east.”
Barely giving him time to finish signing, I rushed towards Alandris’s location, only relaxing slightly when I could hear his voice loudly shouting orders. As I turned the corner, I saw a group of around twenty Mages focusing their magic on various parts of the eastern wing of the castle. From what I could see, they’d made significant progress in quelling the flames and were shifting towards the front now.
Alandris met my gaze with a shuddering breath. He ran to me, cupping the sides of my face in his hands. “Were you hurt anywhere?”
“No. No, and our friends are alive. Kaz, he needs medical attention.” The words flowed from my mouth too quickly, my breaths quickening. All the fear I’d been shoving down in adrenaline came rushing back. “I—I got any Mages I saw out. Jyuri, he has Zorinna. He said he wouldn’t come back, but he did stop most of the fire on the south end, so—”
“Nairu.” Alandris beckoned my eyes back to his. “It’ll be okay. We’re safe.”
We were the furthest thing from safe, but I let the lie soothe me anyway. We were in the now ruins of a half-burned castle with uncounted injuries and possible casualties, and we had no idea who had set the blaze. This inferno was no accident. It was a deliberate act of arson. And that meant our suspected traitor was closer than we imagined.
The Mages Consortium—or what remained of it—still smelled of smoke days after what had been creatively named ‘The Great Fire’ by the council of Mages. Seventy-eight people suffered injuries, but miraculously no one died, and the healers expected those injured to fully recover.
The most grievous damages were to the castle itself, which, even with the boon of magic, would take weeks, or likely months to repair. Worse yet—several priceless magical relics and tomes had burned to ash. In the many meetings that followed the Great Fire, some would argue the priority should have been to save those historic items rather than the Mages. And in said meetings Alandris would tell those who argued such to kindly go fuck themselves.
Of course, I’d not been a part of the Mage’s meetings, or I would have said worse.
I spent my time helping the injured and creating poultices for burns from calendula and yarrow. My hands were red and raw from grinding the herbs to a paste over and over, but I’d never complain. They’d suffered worse—blistering oozing burns—andwhen I couldn’t stop myself from thinking the thought—because of me. They’d suffered because someone had wanted to hurt me.
“What else can I do?” Kaz asked, rolling up another wad of hastily made bandages we’d cut off from the cleanest fabric we could find and boil.
“You can sit down since you’re a patient who shouldn’t bedoing anything.” I gave him a look I hoped conveyed that I didn’t think he was sly pitching in with minor tasks here and there as if I wouldn’t notice. “You have some of the worst burns out of everyone in this tent. Doctor’s orders were for you to rest and relax, and also, not bother the doctor.”
Kaz groaned, as he had every time I’d scolded him for the same reasons. “It’s not in my nature to sit here and do nothing while everyone fusses around me.”
Relenting was not what I should have been doing, but Kaz had a way with his words and smiles. “This is heartveil mushroom,” I said, handing him a basket full of tiny, green, bulbous shrooms. “The stems are bitter, but you can boil the caps to make a pain-relieving tea. Can you pluck the stems off for me?”
He snatched the basket from me before I could change my mind—a victorious grin plastered on his face—and I left him to his work while I tended to other patients.
My work on the Phoenix Heart tending to seafaring wounds had served me well. Although the Consortium employed some Mages skilled in healing, the fire had injured two, leaving the others overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients. My little bit of knowledge from my pirating days had quickly promoted me to the healer’s tent. It was good. I needed to keep my mind busy.
Three days after the fire Lorian and Mak returned from sea, and a day after that Jyuri returned with Zorinna, though based on the look on his face—he’d not done so willingly. Each moved into their roles effortlessly—Lorian and Mak joining Kaelias intransporting and distributing the supplies to repair the castle’s damages, and Jyuri and Zorinna working on strategy with Alandris.
We kept to ourselves mostly, sleeping where we worked in our makeshift tents and temporary homes, too busy to check in on one another. It was fine. Busy hands made busy minds. No time to think about what had happened, or what all we’d lost.
Part of me didn’t want to see them—the same part of me that hated looking at Kaz with his legs covered in burns. It was the same part that understood death followed me wherever I went like moth to flame, and inevitably those around me would suffer for it. I’d promised to stop thinking like that, and I tried not to, but it felt like an impossible feat. So, I ignored it instead—let it fester.
“The Grand Arch Magus has requested your presence at his tent,” one of the healer’s said, passing me a letter as I finished up wrapping the arm of the Mage in front of me in fresh bandages.
I read the words slowly, as though it’d make a difference in delaying what I’d no doubt do. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to see him. I wanted to—desperately. That was the problem. The moment I saw him the floodgates on my emotions would open wide, and everything I’d been holding in would come out at once. It was always that way with him. Finding comfort in another was a blessing and a curse.
I took my time making my way to his tent on the south side of the castle, taking in the reconstruction progress as I walked. Mages were scattered all along the perimeter, brows slick with sweat and hair matted to their faces. There was a prideful beauty in their commitment to the Consortium. Not a single one had chosen to abandon their fellow Mages. This was their home just as it had become mine.
Shame it took tragedy to realize such.
Pulling back the leather flaps, I stepped inside Alandris’s tent. Met with his back I paused, taking in the sight of him hunched over a large map at the center of the large wooden table which took up a majority of the space. In the tent’s corner a bed of straw supported a splayed-out bedroll covered with a mess of fur blankets. An oil lamp sat precariously close to the straw—thankfully, unlit.
Alandris turned at the crunch of the ground beneath my feet, heaving a deep sigh as he took in my face. His own was as beautifully sharp as it always was, though, dark circles now rimmed his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth was turned down into an uncharacteristic frown. His posture—normally elegant and proper—was deflated.
I moved toward him, wrapped my arms around his back, and pressed my cheek to his chest. His hand came down to tangle through my hair—the mess it was—as he pulled me closer. For some time we remained there, silently recovering the missing pieces of ourselves we found only in each other’s embrace.
“I should have brought you here the first night,” he finally murmured.
“It was too chaotic. The Consortium needed us exactly where we were.”
The grumble he returned my statement with was only half-agreement. “From now on, let us at least spend our nights here together.”
“You look as though you’ve been spending very few nights here.” I traced a thumb along his under-eye. “I know there is much to do, but you need to rest.”
