[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]
“They stopped.”
Neve stopped a few steps from the tunnel, ignoring the way that baby Kurt tugged on the wisps that had worked their way free from her braid, straining her ears, wondering if she’d misheard. But no. The drums had stopped and for a moment, all was silent.
“What does that mean?” Tala asked from the far end of the stretcher Cariocecus lay on, her brows knitting. Even Angie had stopped, cradling Tala’s daughter, Gwen, in her arms.
“Does that mean we don’t have to go down to the tunnels?” Angie asked, her voice curious and afraid at the same time.
Neve winced and was glad when Jacqueline answered for her.
“No, we’re still going down there,” the healer said firmly. “They haven’t sounded an all-clear and they’ll want you safe either way. Keep moving.” Her gaze flicked toward Tala. “Are you comfortable leaving the twins down there and coming back up with me? They’ll need you on the wall.”
After a brief hesitation, Tala nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m with you.”
Neve sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “We’ll keep them safe,” she said to Tala. The other woman managed a weak smile.
“I know. I trust you guys.”
On the stretcher, Cariocecus groaned. Tala startled so badly she jostled it, nearly dumping the former godling onto the ground—Neve was more than half convinced that if they’d still been moving, Cariocecus would have been laid out on the ground in the blink of an eye.
“Set it down,” Jacqueline said. “Carefully.”
Tala sucked in a breath and nodded. The pair lowered the stretcher to the ground and Jacqueline came alongside, crouching down next to him.
“Cariocecus?”
“She’s here,” he whispered. “She’s here with the ones pulling her strings. Not the one they wanted but the one they’ve gotten.”
His eyes were open and he stared at the sky, his color ashen, but there was no panic in his expression—only resignation, perhaps a little regret.
“I tried,” he whispered. “I tried.”
