Chapter 42
CHAPTER 42
BIANCA
T he last thing to do is meet with all the leadership officers and determine the damage and action plans that will follow. To Brandon’s benefit, every person in charge has been doing this for so long that they already have nearly complete plans that only require minor tweaking.
Roman leads the meeting. The officers follow suit, one by one. The last one is not a leadership officer. I know this because I personally trained with them while under Alejandra’s command. They are a castle guard from her patrol.
“We have assessed the traitors entered through the underground tunnels that lead to the forest. We have sealed the entrance with spells on the stone.”
“Why are you giving me this information?” Brandon asks the young castle guard. “Where is the head of security?”
“Alejandra is outside, Your Majesty.” He clears his throat. “Currently indisposed.”
Brandon looks at Roman across the room. “Is she injured?”
“No, sir.” The guard inclines his head and promptly steps out of the room .
I stand with Brandon and head to the back of the castle to look for Alejandra. The guard looked more uncomfortable than anything, which makes me wonder what we will find.
Most people have taken refuge in the gardens and training grounds as the halls are cleaned and aired out. The fires have left their mark, not just on the walls but in the air. Making it impossible to breathe safely.
I spot Amy Bee running her makeshift clinic like a queen on her throne. She’s quick and efficient as she orders people about. She has a courtyard section with rows of cots for the injured and dozens of staff members from all sections of the castle assisting. The rows are long and crowded, with patients, healers, and loved ones doing everything they can to help.
“Sofia!”
I turn toward Alejandra’s voice. Sofia’s name is yelled repeatedly as Alejandra makes her way through the cots filled by those injured. She walks past every bed, calling for her sister. She makes it to the end of the row, stops, and looks off to the tent at the end of the training grounds, the one holding all the casualties. She doesn’t take a step closer to the tent. Instead, turns back to the cots and starts walking them one by one again. We stand there and watch with heavy hearts as she does this two more times.
We’re doing exactly what she’s doing. Avoiding the inevitable like it will keep us from tipping over. Ignorance of the truth can only win us so much time, but on hopeless nights like this one, it’s just enough time to take the next breath.
Brandon’s face mirrors mine. He’s the only one who can do this. He kisses my forehead and heads down to the cots. Just as Alejandra is halfway through her walk, he intercepts her. I don’t see their lips move or hear their voices, but I know when the truth is finally shared. I can feel it in the air like the ending note of a sad song. The last string has been played, and its finality cannot be taken back. There’s nothing left after this than to face the truth.
Slowly, she drops to the ground and hugs her knees to her chest. I watch as the King of Puerto Quinn drops to his knees and envelops her. I watch their chests shake with sobs that carry through the wind like a ballet of loss.