Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 20

I've never witnessed so many somber faces in one room. The down-turned stares, frowns, fidgeting hands, and expressions of guilt prove to be enough of an answer as to what the rest of the rebels are feeling. The faces I've familiarized myself with over these past weeks are now covered in slow-healing wounds—on the outside and the inside.

White bandages are the most prominent thing in the room, compared to the silence and sorrow. They cover arms, legs, heads, and one is wrapped so tight around a rebel's abdomen he can hardly take a breath without wincing. Dalis's handiwork that night saved his life. We're alive, and we're breathing, but everyone in this room has lost someone they care about.

The rebels have prepared themselves for this...yet no one can fully imagine what strength it takes to watch your friends die. The toll it has taken rises well beyond what I can cure by standing in the front of the room, my back pressed against the wall, and waiting for someone to speak. No one wants to, they don't have the strength to, and I can't say that I do, either.

Against the back wall of the room, Dalis shifts on her feet. Her eyes are puffed and swollen, her clothes are rumpled and covered in blood; she hasn't received the chance to wash them after last night's fiasco. Many rebels are under the same conditions, the light of day has come but we're still stuck where we were hours ago.

The two witches not in attendance—Binx, and Bren—are not here for their own reasons. The latter is spending time alone next to Celestine's grave and Binx was ordered by Renit, a witch that still hates him, to count the number of the king's men that have died. We don't have complete intel on his army, but it's a start to understanding how much of his loss translates into our gain.

I clear my throat at the front of the community kitchens but not a single rebel turns their head. Renit's eyes are glued on the floor, he can't bring himself to look at me, and the haunting image of watching me cradle Celestine's lifeless body sticks in his brain for eternity. For a few short minutes, I wish I had the ability to shut off the Grounding bond so I can think in peace.

Not a single rebel has taken the time to sleep. Especially not me; I can't deal with Celestine's death and another nightmare at the same time. Standing up at the front of this room with Alaric sitting at the closest table to me, waiting for someone to speak, is enough to make me want to rock myself in a corner. But I asked to do this. We waste no opportunities. We're out of time now.

Again, I clear my throat. This time, I catch Renit's attention but his gaze doesn't hold for long. He's scared to look at me for too long. "We need...we need to think of a new plan," I say weakly. My voice strains and cracks after sobbing into my lap for so long last night. Everyone else is under the same condition.

A rebel towards the front of the room with a bandage around his left eye scoffs. "What's the point?" He barks. "We were attacked and just through that small group of soldiers alone, we weren't able to win. We might as well quit now."

"We didn't win?" I retort. "What do you mean we didn't win? We're still alive, aren't we?" This time, my voice doesn't crack. No one speaks in the room, not to mimic their agreement or lack thereof.

"We lost nearly a quarter of our squad last night!" He slams his palms onto the wooden table. The bowl down the way, one sitting in front of a pregnant woman, rattles. They're forcing her to eat after her husband died last night—protecting her—but she doesn't have the strength to go on; not even for her unborn child. "How do you suppose we go on after that? Three more battles like that and we're done for."

I sneer at his one good eye, a shade of light brown. "So you just give up?" I raise my arms and allow them to slap against my sides. "Is that what your friend would've wanted? I watched you try to revive him, but you couldn't, could you?" My voice rises beyond my control as I recall the memory of him down the street, pleading for life to eradicate from his friend's lungs. It didn't. All the while, he couldn't care less about the lack of one eye in his head.