“We’ve got plenty of buckets, and—”
They struck him with a baton across the face. Blood sprayed the already wet cobblestones.
Everyone scattered, but not before a few were caught and slammed to the ground or against brick buildings. More bones were broken than buckets of water were sluiced onto the crumbling building.
“Leave him alone!” Elara shouted.
Chantal grabbed her elbow. “We have to go.”
One voice rose above the chaos. “Run! Go home!”
Fernand.
Elara pushed through the riot to find him dragging a smoking body from the smoldering curb.
Sirens wailed through the night. The fire brigade. And more police.
“RUN!” Fernand shouted again, hobbling faster. It wasn’t enough. The body would slow him down, and he’d be captured.
Elara ran toward him.
“I don’t understand,” Chantal shouted, following Elara through the herd and toward Fernand. “We’re helping!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Elara replied, stooping to grab the body.
Fernand’s eyes flared with surprise at seeing her, but he accepted her help, and together, they raced to the back of the tailor’s office. Others were flooding in and down into the cellars of Étoiles.
The dance hall had been converted into a makeshift hospital. Bodies in varying degrees of pain were stretched on blankets or covered with cloth. The vendors passed out their contraband magie wherever it helped—tea to numb the pain, food to nourish the burns, little toys to help children forget what they’d just seen.
But they would never forget.
It didn’t work like that.
“What are you doing here?” Fernand said, laying the body down.
The person was… unidentifiable. Any hair had been singed short, their clothes burned nearly beyond recognition save for a splotch of bleach across little pink flowers. Had they worn it to catch someone’s eye this morning? Or just to feel pretty?
They gasped, fingers reaching, scratching.
Chantal knelt down, grasping their withered hand.
“I’m here to help,” Elara said.
“Move!” Nicolette shoved her aside and dropped to the floor with water and bandages. “We’re a little busy,Souverain.”
Elara ignored the jab. “What happened?”
“Some damned fool took it upon themselves to try and start a war on their own.” Nicolette doused the poor soul in water, and their screams joined the riot of others.
“Gently,” a familiar voice snapped from a few cots over.
“Blai?”
They poked their head up, cheeks tinting red. “I can explain.”
“Blai came to warn us about the arrest,” Fernand said. “It gave us time to prepare down here before the police arrived.”
“Only because his face is too beautiful to be crushed by a fist,” Blai muttered.
