Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

“You might conserve your power,” Tayse suggested in a grave voice. “We do not want you wan and wasted by pouring out all your magic in a single day.”

“Can that happen?” Kiernan demanded. “You’re one of our most potent weapons. We do not want you rendered useless in case we need you later.”

“I’ll strive to bear that in mind,” she replied. “I will use flame only judiciously tomorrow.”

Romar pointed at Tayse. “What about the Riders? Our other impressive weapons. What damages did you sustain?”

Tayse shook his head. “None.”

Romar nodded. “Then the first day did not go so ill after all.”

They talked awhile longer, but Kiernan and Romar had plenty of other business to occupy them, and they soon ducked out through the door flap of the tent, Colton behind them. Cammon, who had been sitting next to Amalie on one of the stools, rolled to the floor beside Senneth and peered up into her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was practically gray with exhaustion.

“Go somewhere and sleep,” he told her. “You look ready to disintegrate.”

“Head hurts too much to sleep,” she mumbled. “And I need to eat something. Or I really won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

Tayse dropped to the floor on her other side and pulled her against him. “I’ll work on your headache,” he said. “Cammon, maybe you could see about getting us food?”

“It’s been ordered,” Amalie said. “I thought you would all come here so I-”

She hadn’t finished the sentence when Kirra poked her head through the tent flap. “Is it safe to join you? All done talking strategy?”

“The regent’s gone, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cammon said.

She made a face at him, then came inside. She was carrying a tray of food, and Donnal, behind her, carried another. A cook came in bearing pitchers of water. Kirra glanced around, but there was no table large enough to hold everything, so she shrugged and laid her burden on the floor. The others followed suit.

“Eat,” she said. “Justin, I’ve already had the cooks take a tray to Ellynor. She told me that whenever she performs a great deal of healing, she’s absolutely starving.”

He was biting off a huge chunk of bread, but he nodded. “I’ll go to her as soon as we’re done here and try to get her to sleep tonight,” he said. “But my guess is she won’t leave the wounded.”

Kirra nodded. “Senneth, what should I do?” she asked. “Return to the battlefield and fight, or stay with Ellynor tomorrow and heal?”

Senneth was lax in Tayse’s arms; her face was loose with relief. His hands had chased away at least most of the pain, Cammon thought. “Ask Valri,” she said.

The dark queen stirred, though she had been so quiet during the earlier conference that it had almost been possible for Cammon to forget she was there. Almost. “There are more wounded than we can care for, Ellynor and I and those other mystics. We could use your magic.”

Kirra nodded and glanced at Donnal. “Then if I’m not with you, you have to be particularly careful tomorrow.”

He grinned at her, his teeth white through his dark beard. “Serra, I always am.”

Cammon scooted across the rugs till he was beside Amalie’s stool again. “Majesty, you must eat,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, I-I think I’ll throw up if I do.” She glanced around the tent, her face apologetic, tears welling up. “I’m sorry. I know-I know it was much worse for all of you today. But I-these terrible things-and people dying -and more people dying tomorrow, and I-I feel so much at fault. People are dying for me. And with a few words, I could stop it, I could say, ‘Very well, I give it all up. Here is the crown, I will sail for Karyndein tomorrow.’ ”

“And the armies who have gathered in your name will be leaderless and lost, and have no will to fight, and Halchon Gisseltess’s men will swoop in and slaughter them all,” Tayse said quietly, speaking over Senneth’s shoulder. “Because marlord Halchon will never trust a Brassenthwaite man, or a Helven man, or a Kianlever man, and he will find it easier to dispose of them now than to let them disperse back to their Houses and plot against him once he’s on the throne.”

Valri nodded sorrowfully. “One of the reasons I left the Lirrens was because there was so much conflict between the clans,” she said. “So many feuds between families-all of them pointless. But, Amalie, I believe there are times you must defend not only what is yours, but what you have been called upon to protect. Gillengaria has been put in trust for you-the land is your responsibility. You think you could save it by walking away, but instead you would betray it. And I know you could never bring yourself to do that.”

Amalie sniffled and shook her head and looked around for a handkerchief. No one had one immediately handy, so she sniffled again. “No. I won’t. I’ll be strong. I just-I want to be strong in whichever way is right. ”

Kirra leaned over and handed her a square of lace and cotton, clearly manufactured on the spot. “Here. Blow your nose on that. And I’ll calm your stomach so you can handle food. You need to eat, Majesty. We all do. We have another grueling day ahead of us tomorrow.”

THEYdispersed quickly enough after the meal, some of them instantly seeking their beds. Cammon had hoped Amalie, too, would try to sleep for a while, but she said, “I want to go with Justin to see the wounded.” Naturally, Cammon accompanied her, and Kirra came with them.

The hospital consisted of two tents, each about the size of Amalie’s, and a few acres staked out by a fence of slow-burning torches. The light was poor, but this wasn’t a sight that invited close inspection. The gravely wounded were housed in the tents, both of which glowed with their own interior firelight. Those who needed less care had been assigned pallets on the ground outside. There were hundreds of them.

Moving through the rows of injured men was almost as bad as watching the battle itself, Cammon thought. All of them, all of them, were wracked with pain, horrified by memories, nauseated, wretched, afraid. Some were thirsty, some were delirious, some were desperate-and even those who lay on their blankets mute and miserable seemed to be yelling and moaning in Cammon’s ears. There was a clamor in his brain; he held his breath and tried to shut down, close them out, but they were still hammering at the edges of his mind.

“Sweet gods,” Kirra muttered, and just sank to the ground beside one of the suffering soldiers. She put her hand on his forehead and spoke a few words. Cammon felt the shouting in his head grow quieter by a single voice.

Justin glanced around. “I thought we brought Ghosenhall doctors with us, as well as mystics.”

“We did,” Amalie said in a soft voice. “I expect they’re in the tents with the men who are the worst off.”

“Well, I’ll go see if they need any help holding down someone who needs surgery,” Justin said, and picked his way carefully through the bodies.

Amalie stood still for a moment, as if gathering her strength, and then stepped up purposefully to one of the wounded men. “What’s your name, soldier?” she asked, bending over to see his face better in the bad light. A lock of her red-gold hair fell over her shoulder and brushed his cheek.

The soldier opened his eyes. He looked about Cammon’s age, but beefier and rougher. His eyebrows were knitted together in pain, but when he saw the princess stooped over him, his expression cleared and he seemed touched by awe. “Majesty,” he whispered. “You came to see us.”

“I did. Tell me your name.”

“Benton, Majesty.”