Chapter 43 #2
“The Pilgrims beat him,” Zephyr said flatly. “An affinate stole his oxygen. They choked him out right in front of us. He went without oxygen for too long.”
“That’s barbaric,” I rasped, shaking my head.
“They wanted Skye,” Zephyr said, his voice lowering. “They were using him to get her. She panicked.”
“How did you manage to escape?” I murmured.
Zephyr took a deep breath before looking past me, to where Marion spoke with a group of women, all with a thousand-yard stare.
“She killed them,” he said flatly, then met my eye. “There were a dozen of them, at least. She squeezed her fist, and–” He flared out his fingers in a sign for an explosion.
I winced.
“It changed her,” he said quietly, looking up into the blue sky. “Even having seen the blast, having seen our mom and Ben, she was still the same girl when we went into that alley. But whoever we’d been died right there when she squeezed those men.”
Marion stopped in front of a large canvas tent, turning to face me and Zephyr with a concerned expression.
“It’s not good,” she said lowly. “Mostly infections. Flood water is nasty stuff.” She rubbed her shoulders.
“The sickest are at the back. I’ll take you there, now.
There’s a little girl who I can’t crack.
She’s been hours away from organ failure for nearly a day now.
I haven’t had time to recharge completely. It should have been a simple fix, but–”
“You’ve done a wonderful job so far, Marion.” Zephyr said smoothly. “The Prince is here, now. He’ll handle everything.”
Marion eyed him before nodding. Even I was impressed, though I wasn’t surprised. Zephyr and Skye were fantastic actors. They had an entire lifetime of practice.
Marion pulled back the tent flap, and my stomach dropped.
“Fucking hell,” Zephyr breathed.
He was right.
This was hell.
The inside of the tent looked like a picture straight out of an old war textbook. Sick people were on cots, too close together, lining the walls. Parents were sharing beds with their children. A few children were on the ground, on top of dirty blankets.
“Skye is going to kill someone,” Zephyr whispered. To me, I realized, almost jumping when I glanced at him to see his pale gaze on me. “Wyatt, this is really bad.”
He wasn’t wrong.
We followed Marion to the back of the tent where sure enough, things were worse.
Zephyr zeroed in on the sickest girl first. She was alone on a cot, her mom on the floor while she held the little girl’s hand.
Zephyr lurched toward her like he didn’t have a choice, taking her mom’s hand and pulling her up as the haggard woman rose to greet us.
“Palace Healers,” Marion explained. “His Royal Highness, the Prince Rafael is here in the flesh. These are his personal Healers, here to help us.”
The mother of the sick girl deflated with relief. “Thank the prophet,” she murmured. I narrowed my eyes at that. She looked at Zephyr in desperation. “Please help her. I don’t know how much more her body can take.”
Zephyr’s hands were already moving across the girl’s sickeningly pale torso, resting on her stomach. The girl barely stirred from his cold hands. The mom stood at the bedside, hands over her heart, nervously looking on.
‘Thank the prophet.’
What the fuck was that about?
I cleared my throat, and the mother looked at me while Zephyr continued to work.
“The prophet?” I asked politely. The mother’s eyes widened before she looked past me to Marion, who was very carefully pretending she hadn’t heard. “Forgive me,” I said quickly. “I was just curious. I study history, so…”
The mother relaxed. “Oh,” she chuckled nervously before looking at her daughter. “Sorry, we’re just used to judgement.”
“You’ll find none of that here,” Zephyr said, keeping his focus on the little girl. “His Royal Highness is accepting of all beliefs.”
I barely held back my eyebrow raise of surprise. That was…a really good response.
“I had no idea,” the mother said, rubbing her hands together nervously. “The Princess hasn’t visited, so I…”
I nodded. “Prince Rafael is not his mother.”
The mother looked past me, again to Marion, who was now nodding in agreement, and I didn’t think it was forced.
“The tempest,” the mother said shakily. “She was too much for us. I expected the prophet to save us, but he didn’t step in.”
“Mother nature is a force to be reckoned with,” Zephyr commented lightly.
The mother only pursed her lips and nodded.
“Does the prophet visit often?” I asked.
The mother shook her head. “No. We aren’t the most devout of his followers. I’ve been trying to get us moved elsewhere, like the West Coast or the Gulf, but my requests have been denied.”
Zephyr stiffened at the same moment I did. Even Marion’s silence somehow turned more grim.
Rafe, I reached out, my voice a little shaky.
What is it? He came back immediately.
This is a commune.
I know? His reply was irritated.
No, it’s one of the Crusader’s communes. This woman just called him a prophet.
Holy fucking fuck, Rafe replied. I can see it everywhere now that you’ve mentioned it.
Where’s Skye? I asked.
Don’t make me laugh, she’s the safest person in this camp.
Well–
Aiden, we said at the same time, and I almost chuckled despite the mood. Aiden was the most protected person here, and Zephyr was close behind.
Rafe didn’t respond again, though I knew he was taking this seriously.
Several minutes passed while Zephyr worked.
I stayed close by, waiting for him to need me, but he never asked for help.
He didn’t seem the slightest bit tired as he healed the little girl, and something else stirred inside me as I watched.
Zephyr was a lot stronger with healing than I was.
I’d figured as much, when he looked at Rafe and I like we were crazy that day on the beach, when we asked how he healed his fingers without setting them. Now, it was incredibly obvious.
Healing was effortless for him. He moved smoothly from one spot to the next, never hesitating, never pushing too hard.
Zephyr healed an ankle sprain on the little girl with barely a flick of the wrist. He hadn’t even touched the ankle.
Marion was the Palace’s best Healer. They sent her here, alone, thinking she’d probably be enough to handle this entire camp of survivors. And yet, she was fading, unable to heal organ failure on a child? She’d healed telekinetic injuries before.
Zephyr hadn’t even known how to use his affinity properly until recently, from what I knew.
He and Skye researched it together during her first term.
So he’d been able to heal his fingers as a child, and total organ failure within five minutes with no formal training?
How could he not have healed Levi sooner?
“Mom?”
The little girl’s weak voice brought me out of my thoughts.
“Oh, my God!” The mom cried, climbing onto the old cot to cuddle with her daughter. Zephyr ignored her jostling, continuing to work. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”
I looked to Marion, who was watching me curiously.
“How long have you worked for the Palace?” she asked.
“My whole life, just about.” I muttered.
Marion furrowed her brow, then pursed her lips. “Are you as good as him?”
I almost laughed. “No,” I admitted lowly. And it wasn’t a lie.