swiftly as they’d arrived, leaving the two alone with an empty cart. “Can you make the delivery yourself tomorrow?” Killian asked.
Finn scuffed his worn boots against the stone. “It gets out of hand when you aren’t here. The strongest children take from the weakest without you watching over the process, if you get my meaning.”
“The Seventh at our doorstep and I’m playing gods-damned nursemaid.” Killian scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fine. Same time tomorrow, then. I need to get back to the palace.”
Lydia retreated into the tunnels before he could catch sight of her, so focused on finding her route that she didn’t see the children until she was upon them.
They’d created a nest of ratty blankets and sacking, their eyes gleaming in the light of the single candle burning in their midst. They scampered away at the sight of her, her age making her a threat in this strange world ruled by orphans.
“I won’t hurt you,” she called after them, but none stopped.
Sighing, she started to move on when the sound of coughing caught her attention. Buried in the mess of rotten fabric, she found a little boy, the glow of life about him so faint that she wouldn’t have noticed him but for his cough.
He was dying.
Her body moved almost of its own accord. There was no doubt in her mind of what she needed to do. Dropping to her knees, she touched a hand to the boy’s clammy forehead and dragged life out of herself, forcing it into him. Her heart fluttered as she watched the skin on her hand wrinkle and mottle, but the child’s breathing steadied and his cheeks flushed with health.
A shoe scraped on the stone behind her, and a child’s voice said, “You’re a healer.”
Lydia stumbled to her feet, jerking her hood forward to obscure her face. “No, I’m…” The children who had fled stood before her, their faces pale, many with crusted eyes and injuries bound with dirty rags. But their expressions were full of hope.
This was precisely what she’d been hiding from—being forced to heal others over and over, her life stripped away to save the casualties of war. Helping them could kill her. Would kill her if she kept it up. Except if she didn’t, how many would die? And how could she live with the knowledge that she could’ve saved some but had chosen not to? She imagined explaining her choice to Teriana. Imagined her friend’s expression when she heard Lydia had left children to die so as not to jeopardize her own fate. Already she could see the condemnation.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I can’t help everyone tonight. But I’ll help those who need it most.”
39
KILLIAN
He pushed the cart through the darkened sewers, moving between the circles of moonlight shining through the regularly spaced sewer grates. The recent rains had washed away much of the filth, but it had come at a cost. The damp made the place a breeding ground for disease, and he hadn’t missed the endless coughing of the children waiting for their rations.
Yet another problem in a sea of problems.
He and Quindor had agreed that the progress of the blight needed to be tracked, for if it reached the city, hunger would rapidly become the least of Mudaire’s concerns. Quindor would undertake the task of warning the people of the dangers of the blight, while Killian would assign some of the few remaining men in the city guard to monitor the spread. What they could do to stop it was another problem. Trenches. Dams. All things that required manpower, which would mean employing civilians to do the labor. And the last thing Killian wanted was them near the foul substance.
Ideally, he’d track down the source, but even if he wasn’t under strict orders by the King to remain in close proximity to the city, leaving Malahi alone for that length of time wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. It was something the King should’ve had the tenders addressing, but he claimed they were too strapped with the task of growing food to feed the army. Though perhaps he might change his mind on that count once he received Quindor’s and Malahi’s letters on the subject of the horse.
Reaching the open grate near the palace wall, Killian pushed the cart into a dark side chamber for later use and then went to stand in the pool of moonlight, digging into his coat pocket to retrieve the delicate roll of paper he’d