Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 6

Every man, woman, and child—resident and refugee—stopped to stare at me on my stroll through the capital. And to be fair, I was hard to ignore, this olive-skinned runt with moon-colored hair. Dressed in male attire, scribbled with scars.

Not to mention the tattooed accomplice at my side, who, in true Will fashion, wore a fierce scowl all the way to the city gates. I was pretty sure he didn't even realize he wore an unsettling face. Dissatisfaction was, and always would be, his neutral state.

As we made our way down the cobblestone streets of Havenbrooke, our presence triggered mixed reactions. Some people retreated, wary and untrusting. A few men spat Rhean slurs, and then flinched the moment I locked eyes with them. Others simply gawked at us. But for the most part, we garnered curious eyes and grateful head-nods. I even spotted a few children whispering our names and trading grins behind their scarves.

However, a completely different reception awaited us by the river.

First came the wave of federates who'd lost their homes to the invasion. They'd pitched their tents along the farm roads in the valley, and the setup reminded me of Belgate's weekend markets and harvest festivals. Soldiers sat around fire-pits, bundled in their blankets, trying to escape the winter air, and I felt a pinch of guilt for possessing a private, insulated room this past month.

A few soldiers recognized me immediately and whistled—celebratory whistles, this time—and the uninjured among them stood and clapped and raised their canteens as I weaved through their encampments. A few of Tom's men punched me in the arm or mussed my hair, and I couldn't help but laugh at their affectionate display.

"Hey-hey! Look who it is, fellas!"

"Well done, Kingsley!"

"Make way for the exorcist!"

"Oi! Cheers to our heroic offender!"

I hadn't dwelled on my achievements much since last night, but now, after seeing the army for the first time in weeks—the joy and genuine admiration etched on the men's faces, the renewed hope in their eyes—I finally felt the depth of my impact.

A month ago, I'd put 2,000 demons to sleep and spared our capital. This week, I'd showed the army I could bring their brothers, sisters, wives, mothers, and fathers back from the dead. I'd proved I could save these foot soldiers, should their souls stumble into Godric's poisoned well. And in doing so, I'd ignited a fire in our company.

We were no longer fighting for survival; we were fighting for salvation. And hope was one hell of a drug.

It seemed their hatred toward Will had also dissolved. According to the prince, a record of our legal proceedings had made its way into the hands of the federal army, including Will's passionate defense of the enlisted. Now, even the most biased of our company were forced to acknowledge his caliber. And rightfully so.

Further down the path, a sturdy medical tent replaced the slapdash field hospital I'd seen last, and I spotted a few dozen cots inside, each of them occupied by men and women wrought with injuries, infections, and amputations. The patients all looked pale and half-frozen, and as much as I wanted to visit them, it seemed insensitive to do so with my power and regenerative healing abilities.

Nazir, Siren's medic, saluted me from within the tent, and Torian stuck his head out behind him, a giant smile lighting up his face.

He jogged up to me in a pair of form-fitting winter clothes—donated, most likely—and yanked me into a warm embrace, his stethoscope digging painfully into my sternum as he rocked me from side to side.

I patted his shoulder. "Hey, Tori."

"Awake and overly ambitious. That's what I like to see." He stepped back, holding me at arm's length, and his leaky pupils roamed over my physical state. "They wouldn't let me in the hospital as a foreigner. I was worried about you!" He eyed the bruise on my collarbone. "How are you feeling? Did you get enough fluids?"