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"With one arm." Of course.

I pick up my dagger. He notices. "You lost the other."

"I know." He reaches toward his belt. Hands me one of his.

I stare. "Really?"

"You need it."

"I'll return it."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you'll lose it."

I almost cry again.

"Asshole."

"Move."

We move.

Together.

For the next three hours, there is no Rhyven and Eirea. Not really. There are wounded people. Bodies. Fire. Collapsed stone. Missing students. Dragons. Work.

Rhyven's shoulder is reset by a healer who threatens to sedate him. He refuses. She does it anyway without sedation. The sound he makes is deeply satisfying.

I tell him so. He tells me to fuck off. Good.

Caelen finds me twenty minutes later. This time he doesn't ask permission. He grabs me. Hard. One arm around my shoulders. I hug back.

"You're alive."

"Apparently."

He pulls back. Checks my face. Hands. Arms.

Exactly like before. Then sees Rhyven ten feet away.

Something passes across his face. Strange. Dark. Knowing. I don't have time.

"What."

Caelen looks back at me. "Nothing." He's terrible at that. Later.

Dax works casualty retrieval. Soren rebuilds temporary ward lines. Maelis coordinates village evacuation. Cassian finds survivors using siren perception until his nose bleeds. Nyra records names.

Alive. Missing. Dead. She keeps writing even when her hand shakes.

Lena survives. Toren survives. Mira survives. Joss survives. Tavia—alive. Infirmary. All seventeen. I almost collapse when I hear it. Don't. Not yet.

Not everyone is that lucky.

Professor Halven is dead. The student whose arm we tourniquet... Elian—alive. Barely. The girl whose brother Perrin was outside— we find him. Dead.