Page 51 of The Silversmith

I walked to where Caz and Finn had moved the body, held my breath, and reached for the sack on his face. “He shouldn’t be buried with a bag over his head.”

“Ary!” Gemma grabbed my elbow. “Ary, please, don’t—ah, shit!”

“I’m going to check on Ezra.” Even Caz tightened his pale-green face and turned away.

I held my breath and removed the sack to reveal that the man’s eyes had been carved from his skull, leaving gaping black holes drained of blood by gravity. Gemma’s and Caz’s footsteps shuffled away behind us. Finn followed, leaving only Gavin beside me.

“They carved him up like an animal,” I breathed, eyes burning.

“In their eyes, anyone who doesn’t follow Molochai’s orders is less than human.”

Gavin’s knuckles brushed against my elbow, a welcome comfort.

“You won’t turn away like the rest of them?” I looked up at him.

“I won’t let you face it alone.” He cocked his head and surveyed the corpse, looking eerily… bored. “And I’ve seen worse.”

I shuddered at the horrific, senseless loss of life before me. I couldn’t destroy Molochai today. Not a single trace of my power had shown itself, and with no clue where to begin, I’d be helpless against him for quite a while.

But there had to be something to be done about this, even a temporary solution.

Wasn’t I the queen? Barely trained? Yes. Still small and mostly weak and anxious? Yes. But the queen nonetheless, whether I wanted the title or not. A queen could give orders.

Some good could come of it.

“I want to take these people—these survivors—to the Caves.” I willed confidence into my voice and stared pointedly at the others. “I want them fed, sheltered, and cared for.”

Caz, Gemma, and Finn traded apprehensive glances but proceeded to bury the man as they were told.

Ezra walked up to me, shaking his head. “I wish we could save everyone, but… we can’t. We can’t just lead a hundred people all the way to the Caves.”

“What would Elias do?” I asked. With how much my cousin admired my betrothed, mentioning Elias could win him over.

“He would tell you to make the smart call and not draw attention to this place.” Ezra waved a hand around the dilapidated village. “If Insidions come back and find the survivors leaving, they will wonder who did it. There’s a chance they’ll track and follow us.”

I looked to Gavin, who shook his head. “He’s not wrong. We can’t do it.”

My shoulders slumped.

“But,” Gavin added, much to Ezra’s displeasure, “my friend in Tovick has connections. He can get word to the Caves, to Winterton. This wouldn’t be their first covert evacuation.”

I gave a relieved sigh and squeezed his large, calloused hand in thanks.

The feel of his answering grip lingered on my skin for the rest of the day.

Chapter fourteen

Weariness settled heavy in our bones while we made camp inside a small grove of maple trees. Our plans to stay overnight in the village had been thwarted. The villagers were afraid to talk to us. They wouldn’t accept our food. With all our efforts to help proving futile, not one of us could stand to stay there a moment longer.

To my surprise, everyone but Gavin laid down and fell asleep before I even tried. Well aware one pair of eyes was burdened with worry and locked on me, I stayed up, standing with my arms crossed before the fire, making every effort to burn the memories from today into my heart.

I wouldn’t forget the fear, hunger, and destitution of the innocent people I should have been able to help.

I looked up only when I heard steady footsteps and knew it was Gavin. His worn leather jacket was spread out on the ground beside me.

“Sit.”

I stared at the jacket. “On you—your jacket? It—”