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Xadrian shifted beside me, but I waved him off with a glare before turning to Zerek. I didn’t care that he’d captured his sister; he’d helped her hurt Kael. “Arrest him. You and Herrath are in control of the army. Make sure any remaining forces are dealt with and that a healer sees to Rae.”
Xadrian’s mouth fell open. “Theron, I—“
“Shut the fuck up before I kill you myself,” I growled. “The only reason you’re still alive is because she needs me.”
Zerek grabbed Xadrian, yanking his hands behind his back and marching him out of the tent.
I focused all my energy on Kael, ensuring she was comfortable as Roza knelt beside us. She had gathered what supplies she could find—a few rags, a bowl filled with hot water, and some needles from Zerek’s pouch—and spread them across the table.
“We need to clean this wound,” she murmured. “Otherwise infection will set in.”
I thought back, trying to remember how I’d heal myself when Rhazien and my mother didn’t allow me to use a healing plate.
“Honey and garlic.” I looked up, saw a soldier by the door, and shouted for him to gather every known healing herb.
Roza managed to clean the wound and stitch it closed before applying a salve that numbed the area around it so she wouldn’t feel too much pain.
The entrance flap to the tent burst open, and Haemir and Gavril charged in, their dirt-covered faces masks of concern.
“What happened?” Haemir demanded, his booming voice filling the small space.
“It was Caelia,” I whispered, my throat thick. “She stabbed Kael with Endbringer.”
Gavril’s eyes went wide. “The god-slayer blade? Vetia’s horns.”
My gaze darted around, realizing in my haste to save Kael, I’d left the ancient weapon discarded on the ground. The sword that had once ended deities was, at that moment, less significant to me than the dirt it lay upon. Kael was my everything.
Roza, hands stained with Kael’s blood, met Haemir’s gaze. “It was bad. I’ve done what I could to control the bleeding and close it. But…” her voice trailed off, the weight of her uncertainty clear.
Gavril rushed to her, wrapping Roza in a tight embrace, his gratitude evident in the way he clung to her. Haemir approached her next, squeezing her shoulder, in a silent gesture of thanks.
“There’s nothing else we can do. We have to wait and see if her body will heal on its own.”
Haemir pulled up a chair beside her cot, settling opposite me.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The stifling silence of the tent was pierced only by the gentle whistle of the night winds and the distant murmurs from the battlefield. We’d been victorious, Kael’s magic turning the tide for us early in the battle. But the tent felt anything but celebratory.
Seated around Kael’s still form, the hours seemed to stretch endlessly. I stroked her hair, breathing in time with her so I’d know if her breath stuttered again. Gavril was the first to break the silence, his voice low, as if not to wake her.
“Do you remember,” he began, glancing at Haemir, “when Kael was only a slip of a girl, and she outwitted that mine overseer with the lame leg?”
Haemir chuckled softly, “Oh, the one she tricked into the scorpion pit? I’ll never forget the look on his face.”
I leaned in, desperate for any story, any memory that connected me deeper to her.
“How old was she?”
Haemir’s eyes were soft. “Only thirteen, and just starting to trust me. She was never a trusting person.”
Gavril snorted at the understatement.
“Do you remember the time,” Haemir continued, a smirk playing on his lips, “she and Orya convinced all the young ones that the desert mirages were gateways to another realm, and had them all searching for hours?”
Gavril laughed, the sound echoing softly in the tent. “She only did that because I dared her.”
As they continued to share tales of Kael’s bravery and wit, the weight in my chest seemed to lighten. The tales unveiled facets of Kael I had never known, painting the picture of a resilient, mischievous, and fiercely loyal young woman despite all the things the world had her through. The stories also cast Haemir and Gavril in a new light; it was clear their bond with Kael was profound. They were her family, not by blood, but by choice, and they loved her deeply.
