Chapter 52 #2
The line of refugees continued for nearly an hour, even at our brisk canter.
There were periods where the flood of people was so heavy they walked ten abreast and deep; other times there were pockets of empty space, a straggling person or two filling the gaps.
I tried to catalogue every face, every injury, every child’s cry for their missing mother or father, sister or brother.
But, even with my hyper-vigilance and deep-seated desire to do something to ease their distress, eventually it all blurred together into a hapless form of indiscriminate cries and pleas; the scent of ash and filth, of blood and infection, heavy in my nose.
“Why won’t Alois stop and reassure them? Offer some sort of platitude or comfort?” I mumbled to Leal at one point when the stream of refugees had trickled until it was nearly nonexistent.
She simply shrugged her tight shoulders, the dagger still spinning dangerously in her fingers.
I ground my teeth together, frustrated both by my inability to do anything and Alois’ lack of desire to do the same.
Gripping the reins tight in my hands, I pulled hard to the left, maneuvering myself out of line. I clicked my tongue, urging my chestnut mare into a quicker pace until I drew even with Alois.
“Why won’t you do anything?” I spat in a rush, my cheeks flushed with anger, determination, and a tinge of embarrassment once I realized the entire company of cadets was watching the exchange between my husband and me.
“And what would you have me do, wife?” Alois intoned with little inflection, his coffee-brown eyes fixed steadfastly on the rump of Lex’s horse.
“Something. Anything,” I practically growled.
Before Alois could say anything in return, I heard Lex’s Pain Vessel, Sasori, scoff.
“In case you misunderstood, cadet, our mission is to scope the Borderlands, particularly Cellia, which was hit the hardest, to best understand the threat. From there, we can ascertain the best course of action.” I didn’t mistake the hint of derision in her tone and heard more than one of the other cadets snigger.
My cheeks burned hotter.
“But those people”—I flung my hand behind me—“could have used some sort of direction, some sort of hope to hold onto. Even the knowledge that we’re going to Cellia . . .”
“Is currently a classified mission and needs to stay that way. Or are you presuming to know more about the movements of armies than the General and Lord d’Refan?” Sasori replied silkily.
I dropped my hand to my side, my whole body shaking with barely suppressed rage.
“Do you have no heart? No conscience?” I begged quietly, some of the fight leaving me at both Sasori’s sneer and Alois’ stony expression.
“I could feel their panic, their desperation. Their pain”—I rubbed my breastbone at the lingering sensation, a movement which caught Lex’s eye again—“you couldn’t say anything? Encourage them to continue to Vespera?”
Alois sighed, and Sasori shook her head sharply.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she intoned again.
“It isn’t about them, it’s about what or who sent them.
Nothing close to this level of destruction and mass movement of refugees has been seen since the Sundering.
If they have any sense at all, they’ll make their way to Vespera.
If not,” she shrugged her shoulders as if the death of hundreds of innocents was simply an acceptable currency in this war.
Maybe it is.
“I suggest you find your place in line again, cadet,” Sasori sneered the word when it was clear that Alois wasn’t going to interject or reprimand her for speaking to his wife in such a way.
Some marriage this is.
Hot tears burned my eyes, both from frustration and embarrassment, but I blinked them away as fast as I could.
“This conversation isn’t over, husband,” I spat the word with the same respect Sasori showed me.
Alois finally turned his gaze to me. “Preferably when your female guard dog isn’t around to interrupt us.
” Sasori looked like she was ready to throw herself out of the saddle at me, her deep-brown eyes sparking with hatred, but a quick snap of Alois’ fingers had her stalling in her seat.
I couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the corners of my lips.
“Good dog,” I purred, and Sasori actually growled.
I thought I heard a laugh quickly disguised as a cough from either Ilyas or Lex, but I couldn’t be sure over the thundering of my heart.
“Back in line, Ellowyn. We’ll reach Cellia soon if the smoke in the air is any indication,” Alois said in the same deadened tone as before.
I huffed sharply before pulling back on the reins, not deigning his dismissal with a response.
If that’s how he was going to act toward me—if that was how he let others treat his wife and the supposed future queen of Elyria—then I wanted little to do with him anyway.
My horse came to a stop, and I let the column of riders pass me.
I ignored their open-faced looks and barely restrained snickers until I came even with Leal again.
We rode in silence for a few moments, the high from my adrenaline finally wearing off until I sagged slightly in the saddle. I was exhausted—from the night of little sleep, the all-day ride, and the confrontation just now—but knew the hardest part of our day lay ahead.
The sky was slowly thickening with the scent of ash and burning wood as smoke encircled our group, becoming so thick that it almost obscured the afternoon sun completely.
“I hope you saved some of that fire and bravery,” Leal said in a hushed whisper as we crested a small hill. “I have a terrible feeling we’re going to need it yet.”
I tore my eyes from her grim expression and gasped at the sight before me.
Cellia wasn’t just ravaged—it was a burial ground.