I simply nod back and slip the small glass vial into the pocket of my dress, fussing with the front of it and trying not to wince at the awful cut of the fabric. Reed sees all of this, his eyes far too sharp, and he follows me into the garden to take the shortcut to the barracks. It was only after we cleared the dead tree and debris away that I found the small gate there. I haven't used it until now, but I was quick to tell Firna of its existence, in case any soldiers or returning messengers should need immediate assistance.
My shelves are now stocked with mounds of clean bandages and pain relief in dozens of forms, and I even convinced Firna to bring me a sewing kit. The messengers are all part-bloods, many with high fae in the mix, but there's every chance they won't have heightened healing ability. Blood loss is not something to take lightly, and a few clean stitches will help to aid where the body might struggle under catastrophic damage.
Tyton’s eyes narrow as we approach him, his casual smiles and joyful heart having disappeared somewhere in the Ravenswyrd Forest. I'm not sure if his happy nature will ever return after what he experienced there, but I meet his suspicious glare with my chin tilted up, determined never to cower from any of their ire.
“The witch has brewed tinctures and healing remedies. She has one that could help heal the children of the village,” Reed says, and I shake my head at him, shifting between the two males to make sure they understand me perfectly.
“Not heal them, but it will help them grow. The children out there are starving and not getting the proper variety of foods and nutrients that they need to develop well. Even once the trading wagons arrive, they’ll probably still bring simple foods that can stretch to feed as many as possible. Correct?”
Tyton scowls deeper. “We’ll do what we can for everyone, but we only have three trades before midwinter. Our options are limited.”
I nod, my face carefully blank. “Keeping them fed is all we truly need to do until the war is over to ensure they survive, but with this elixir, they’ll have a better chance ofthriving. All of the important properties of the foods they're missing out on won't matter so much anymore. Rebuilding a kingdom takes a lot of work—the next generations can’t be lacking.”
I pull out the vial and hold it in my hand, and I feel the raw bounds of his magic touch it. He might not have full control over his power, but he trusts it, and when his eyes flash bright white for a moment before he nods, I know the biggest hurdle is over with.
He knows the elixir won’t hurt the villagers.
I glance between the two males once more and push on. “I’ve set some aside for Princess Airlie and the baby, but he can't have it until he’s passed his first birthday, a full cycle of the seasons complete. There's enough here for three hundred children to get a dose, and I can make more once the garden has settled in. One dose will see them through until next summer and, if Prince Soren deals with the food shortage, things should be better for them all by then. Is this enough, or should I grab another vial?”
Tyton stops to pull off his training armor and place it on the small crate outside of the barracks doors, with a wary look at us both as I stare back at him unflinchingly.
This the most lively area of Yregar I’ve seen so far, hundreds of high fae going about their duties under the rule of their prince. The soldiers who stream in and out of the building bow their heads to Tyton respectfully even as they murmur quietly amongst themselves about my presence here, not at all worried about me seeing the malice in their eyes as they pass. There are even a few whispers about Reed and his assignment to watch over me, but I ignore those just as easily. Idle gossip is at the base of every community, and to entertain it is to invite it to take root and flourish—better to let it die on bored lips looking for weaker prey.
Tyton lets out a breath finally and shakes his head. “There are only a hundred or so children outside of the orphanage, and fifty who live there, so that’s plenty, but you’ll have a hard time convincing the parents to take this elixir from you. They won't trust you, and interacting with a witch is to invite death—they all know it well. If you go down there, they’ll turn their backs on you or refuse you at their doors.”
I look down at the red liquid once more before I take a deep breath and hold it out to him. “One drop in a glass of water, one glass to each child. It's only effective until they reach adulthood, whatever age that is for their race, so there's no use giving it to the adults or the elderly of the village.”
Tyton looks at the vial before he takes it, gently squeezing his palm around the glass as though holding an act of magic he's not eager to lose. Whatever else has transpired between us and the song the forest sings in his heart, he trusts my abilities as a healer enough to take up this quiet task.
As he moves to duck back into the barracks and bark out orders to the soldiers to assist him, I call out to him once more, “I'll go to the orphanage. With Reed at my side, they should let me in, right? I want to go there myself.”
Tyton shrugs and agrees, then moves off while I get to work fortifying the castle in every way I possibly can while high-fae soldiers do the same. I can’t undo the damage the witches have done to these children and their families, but I can strengthen them and give them the best chance at life. No matter what else happens here at Yregar, I won’t forget the fae folk who live beyond the castle walls.
* * *
Reed stares at the small iron fence around the orphanage as though he's afraid that diseases and a rabid pack of wraiths live within, and I stop myself from pushing the small gate open and turn to him with censure.
“You can't walk in there and be around orphaned children looking like that. They're already set apart from this community, and you'll only make things worse.”
I gesture at the fence to prove my point. It's there to keep the children safely within the grounds of the orphanage, but the fact that it's made out of iron is abhorrent, in my opinion. My magic protects me from feeling the true pain of the ghastly metal, but the part-bloods and lower fae within won't be so lucky. They can't open the gate without feeling excruciating pain, and so they’re trapped inside.
The high fae have their gloves and leathers to protect them from the iron they wear and wield. They’ve been smart to use the metal in the first place, to find ways to overcome their own aversion to it to protect themselves from the weaker magic of the raving armies, but to see it here, circling a house built for orphaned children, makes my stomach churn with unease.
I have no reason to believe that anything untoward happens here, but these iron gates have eaten away at the back of my mind until I had to figure out a way in to do a welfare check of my own. There’s every chance Tyton is right and the people in charge will deny me access, but I’ll use my magic if I need to, send a pulse of power through the building to check the health and well-being of those vulnerable children within.
I don't need the high fae to support me. If I find something I don't like, I'll deal with it myself.
Reed glances at me and runs a hand over his face, unable to shift the scowl there. “I hate these places.”
It’s hard to stop myself from reacting to the typical high-fae sensibilities, and Itskand shake my head at him, the easy familiarity between us loosening my tongue as I slip back into soldier banter easier than breathing. “You don't want to be around small helpless children? Or is it the part-bloods and lower fae that worry you? You know they're not that different from the high fae, not really. It’s a shame you lot never mix with those below your station.”
The scowl between his brows deepens. “I don't care about their heritage. As long as they're not witches.”
He tacks his disclaimer onto the end as though being sure to clear up any confusion our conversation might expand within me, and I roll my eyes at him as he continues, “Every one of these children has either been dumped here out of desperation by parents who once loved them but couldn't feed them, or they've lost their families to the war.”
He stops for a moment, cringing before giving me a sidelong look. “Well, there’s a third option, and you should be prepared for it, because I don't need you stomping off back to Prince Soren and blowing up at him.”
Nothing will shock me at this point, but I just gesture at him to continue.
