I found Abigail taking down the names of the arrivals at a medical booth, sitting in an all-terrain wheelchair of her own.
“How many are here?” I asked, leaning to look over the paperwork.
“Thousands,” Abigail said. “Our supplies are already strained, so the city’s rationing is going to have to tighten, but it’s good we brought them here. We have at least fifteen-hundred new soldiers that can help us fight The Mission.”
“That’s if they choose to help. No one here will be forced into this war against their will.” I hadn’t saved all these fae to bolster our army. I’d done it because it was the right thing to do.
“Understood, but you should know the fae well by now. War is their specialty, and they are eager to gain their vengeance upon Doctor Taurus the moment they’re well enough to wield a blade in hand.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” I moved into the medical tent and started to help wherever I could. I rolled bandages, distributed medicine, and helped doctors and nurses treat the wounded. I didn’t have a lot of medical expertise now that my healing abilities were gone, but I could hold the hands of those getting stitches, stabilize those who needed amputations, and hand tools to overwhelmed doctors.
There was blood streaked across my face and all over my armor in hours, but I ignored the gore and kept going, refusing to tire. My disability would not impede me today. I didn’t care if my spine was lit aflame. I’d deal with it, because it was what had to be done.
I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. My brother ran throughout the medical tent, healing who he could until I watched his magic ebb to the point it couldn’t mend a small cut. He’d already strained himself so far by bringing Charlie back from the brink of death, and he was pushing his limits continuing to help others.
“Ez, you need to slow down. You’re sick, too,” I reminded him as I rolled past, grabbing a box of pills.
“When you quit, I will,” Ez said. His arms up to his elbows were stained red.
Neither of us would, so we continued long into the night. I didn’t allow fatigue to touch me, though it promised to return the moment I stopped to rest. As long as I kept moving, I could keep going, so I did.
“Miss, you have to let us set the bone.” A couple of doctors were trying to fix the broken arm of a sorceress, but she curled away, clutching at a crying newborn in her grasp.
“I have no one to hold my child!” she screeched, clinging to the small infant. The baby was covered in blood that wasn’t her own— this woman had been through hell and back making sure she got her baby out of Fasva.
“You can set her aside, and she’ll be safe while we fix your arm,” a nurse offered, gesturing to a basket that was serving as a makeshift bassinet.
“She’s terrified! I can’t give her to just anyone! She needs me!” the sorceress screeched.
That baby wasn’t going to calm down until her mother did, and she was currently losing her head. I came over, extending my arms. “Here. I’m a mother. She’ll be safe with me.”
The sorceress eyed me up and down. “Why should I trust you?”
“I just gave birth a few months ago. My son is close to the same age your daughter is. I know how to hold a baby. She’ll be okay.”
The sorceress glanced down to my chest, trying to decipher if I was lying by guessing if I was breastfeeding or not. She couldn’t tell, but the look on my face must’ve been genuine, because she gently placed the baby into my arms. “Just for a moment.”
I brought the baby closer, but the sorceress still looked close to screaming. If I distracted her, she might settle down. “How old is your baby?”
“Only four weeks. I had her inside the prison,” the sorceress explained. “I had to give birth alone. My mate didn’t make it.”
That was heartbreaking to hear. I couldn’t imagine delivering alone, much less without Charlie with me. “That was very brave. What’s her name?”
“Anezka. It was my grandmother’s name.” The sorceress allowed the doctors to set her arm, but she didn’t wince with the pain of the bone being pushed back into place. Her eyes were focused only on her child.
“I named my son after his great-grandfather.”
“Then why isn’t he here with you?” The sorceress threw her words at me like an accusation, like it was insanity that any woman could bear to part with her newborn for more than a few seconds. I desperately wished I understood how she felt.
“He’s in the NICU.” It was the safe answer, but he wouldn’t have been with me even if he was a healthy child.
“I see.” The sorceress nodded. “He’ll be strong, then, just like my daughter. Both of them have already survived so much.”
The baby stopped crying, nestling into my arms like it was natural for her to be there. The sorceress finally cracked a smile. “You must have experience. She settles so easily with you. Every baby needs a good mother. I can tell you are one.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed as I’d stared into the baby’s beautiful eyes. The minute the arm was wrapped in a splint, I gave the sorceress back her child, rubbing my arms as if scalded.
“There are others I need to help,” I mumbled, and I took my chance to depart from the medical tent, because I had to get some air. The stars dotted overhead as I sat on the beach, taking a quivering breath.
