The lower streets were still being searched, and I knew those found dead weren’t being brought here.
Chest heavy, I started to walk, though I did so with company. Delano was at my side, and Emil and Hisa were only a few steps behind me. The auburn-haired Atlantian was quieter than I’d ever known him to be. I let my senses stretch out as I slowly moved between the beds made from blankets we’d had the servants bring. Those conscious stared either at the large, snow-white wolven or me. Or at my two shadows, whose hands rested on swords as if ready to strike if someone so much as twitched in my direction. Probably at all of those things. I was too tired to care about the stares or worry about what they thought as they looked at me.
Something caught my attention. I wasn’t sure what, but I glanced toward the front of the warehouse just in time to see a cloaked figure carrying an empty basket. The figure was slender and tall, and as they neared the doors, a breeze lifted the hood just enough for me to glimpse white curls.
Tawny.
My wry smile froze as my stomach lurched.
No.
Nope.
I didn’t have time to think about that.
Turning, I kept walking until I stopped at the feet of a man with a pile of bloodied bandages wrapped around his stomach. I started to kneel—
Another faint quake struck, drawing a chorus of groans and muted curses as my gaze lifted to the ceiling. The slivers of moonlight seeping through the gaps in the rafters were widening.
“It’s holding,” Hisa advised quietly.
But for how long?went unsaid.
“And that one was weaker,” Emil added.
It was.
The quakes had been happening every hour or so since the gods vanished, fading in strength with each pass.
I had a bad feeling about those quakes. Bad enough that I couldn’t let myself think too hard about them because I didn’t have the strength to deal with the answer.
“I think it would be wise to move anyone who can be to…” A wave of dizziness swept up the back of my neck and over my head. Inhaling sharply, I fought the icy-hot pressure that followed. It bore down on my skull, making my head feel like it was seconds from cracking open.
Don’t pass out.
“Poppy?” someone called, sounding as if they were outside.
Do not fucking pass out.
Delano nudged my hand, and I blinked several times as the pressure retreated—pressure I wasn’t sure was due to only having taken enough blood from Casteel to be able to use the eather to heal or something else.
I opened my eyes to find Casteel standing several rows away, his gold eyes fixed on me. A muscle ticked along his jaw. His brother was beside him, speaking to him quietly. I remembered he’d said he had something to show us.
“I’m sorry?” Turning away, I began to kneel beside the man again. “What did you say?”
“I was saying we can move them to the Wayfair gatehouse,” Emil suggested. “It’s large, pretty clean, and more secure.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Eyeing the pile of bandages, I leaned over the man. “Can you start on that?”
“Of course.” Emil started to turn but stopped. His shoulders tightened as he faced me. “You’ve done enough, Poppy.”
“I haven’t.” All one had to do was look around and see all the carnage to know that.
“You have.” His voice lowered as he stepped closer. “You’re exhausted and barely standing. You need to rest.”
Rest?
How could I do that when people were still injured? I was the Queen. I shouldn’t rest while others suffered. And howcouldI rest when doing so inevitably led to silence and time—time to think about why this had happened and what it meant. If the attack on Lowertown was just a trap designed to lure out one or more Primal gods, then I would have to acknowledge that sinking, suffocating feeling that it had been successful. I would have to think about what had happened in Stonehill and the little hands clutching those dinner knives.
