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The Kingmakers(31)

By:Clay Griffith Susan Griffith


“You’re a legend. It would thrill them.”

“It is more important for them to hear praise from you.”

“Perhaps, but you are welcome to say something if it comes to you,” she urged.

He remained silent throughout, but paused at every bed as she did, and nodded to each soldier. As they continued on through the next ward, Adele noticed that none of the patients seemed severely or mortally wounded. Finally, she approached the doctor escorting them.

“These are the worst wounded here?”

“Oh. No, Your Majesty. We didn’t think that ward appropriate for your eyes. These are the men who would be aware of your presence and benefit most from it.”

Annoyed, Adele kept her tone even and quiet. “I intend to see as many as I can.”

The doctor gulped. “My sincerest apologies, Majesty. This way.”

Hours later, Adele and Greyfriar emerged from the hospital. Her heart had nearly shattered in the critical wards. There were moments she would have broken down from the despair of it all if Greyfriar had not been standing with her, giving her his strength. The endless rows of wounded were astounding. Men so ruined and savaged they were barely alive. The bloodstained blankets. The missing limbs and mangled faces. Shallow rattling breaths. The foulness of the air nearly sickened her when she entered, but by the end, she hardly noticed it. And that disturbed her even more.

She embraced the freezing dusk and drew in deep breaths in futile hopes of driving the septic stink from her nose. Instead of being invigorated by the sharp cold air, she felt weary. The day had drained her, and she slumped as her feet scuffed the snow.

Greyfriar was quick to slip an arm around her to steady her. “You are exhausted.”

She shrugged, rolling her shoulders in a vain attempt to ease the ache. “I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have gone. You’re not recovered.” Greyfriar’s tone held concern.

“Of course, I’m recovered,” Adele lied, trying to put some force in her voice, but leaning against him anyway. In truth, however, she felt drained. It was as if she had expelled not only the rift’s energies, but her own as well. Her bones were sore, and any activity left her winded. “Let’s walk toward St. Laurent. I want to see if I can find someone.”

“Who?”

“A little girl I met on the way into the city. I promised that she’d be safe. I’d like to see if I kept that promise.”

Scowling but resigned against her determination, Greyfriar guided her. “Of course. Let’s go.”

They passed a wagon rocking its way down a narrow lane with a tarp pulled over its load, but the stench of charred flesh was unmistakable. Vampire casualties. Her gaze went immediately to Greyfriar. As always, his true expression remained hidden to her.

Adele noted her constant companions, Captain Shirazi and a squad of her Harmattan, followed discreetly a dozen paces behind, as discreetly as ten armed men could. She signaled for them to move farther back, and lowered her head to whisper, “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me? That you’re not recovered? Yes, I’m concerned.”

“No.” Her head bobbed toward the departing ox cart.

Greyfriar glanced at it and then back again, his chest expanding with a deep breath. His response to the question was slow, his voice nearly too quiet to hear. “Would you think me callous if I said no?”

Adele was about to respond, but Greyfriar continued quickly.

“I’ve said before. I have chosen my side. I am with you. I’m sad to see my people come to this, and if I could make them see reason, I would. Would you prefer to see us win?”

“No. But they are your people.” Adele continued to study the ragged groups around them, searching out the children with intense scrutiny. The locals stared back. Some waved and smiled, while others were confused, more suspicious of their new masters.

The snowcapped stones of St. Laurent rose up before them. Adele signaled for her guard to remain where they were. Captain Shirazi glared angrily, but she gave him an assured nod toward Greyfriar.

Adele weighed a bit more heavily on her companion’s arm, although he seemed not to notice, as they walked slowly into the courtyard. She looked around, remembering the vampire she had killed here and the little girl. Adele hadn’t logically expected to find the girl here, but it was still disappointing to see the empty courtyard.

Greyfriar pulled his cloak tighter around her shoulders as the frigid wind swirled. “Look at this city.” He swept an arm, gesturing at the wrecked courtyard around them and the decrepit buildings visible around it. Some of the damage had been caused by Equatorian firepower, but all structures were in a state of decay, far from their original glory. “We’ve held this city for well over a hundred years and it’s a ruin. In our hands, it would eventually fall to dust, and we wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it.”