Page 221 of Scorched Earth

The ship bumped against the docks, workers catching lines and tying them off even as a gangplank was lowered. Not caring about propriety, Lydia pushed past the Maarin crew and sprinted down the dock. She flung her arms around Killian’s neck, a sob tearing from her throat as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I thought they’d captured you.” Killian’s voice was rough. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“It was a near thing, but we got out in time.” Her throat tightened. “But not without cost.”

“We heard of Revat’s fate. The Cel had a Gamdeshian shifter named Astara prisoner, but she managed to escape and make it to Serlania.”

Lydia buried her face in his throat, relieved not to be the bearer of every piece of dark news. “Kaira?”

“Dead in battle. The Cel hold the city. All those who survived the battle are locked in prisoner camps.”

Grief pooled in Lydia’s stomach. “She put Sultan Kalin on theKairensebefore she rode out to fight. He’s here, but he’s… grieving.”

“Adra will help him through it. He needs to rally for Gamdesh.”

Killian’s fingers flexed against her back, and unease filled Lydia’s core because tension seethed from him. Letting go of his neck, she met his dark gaze. “What has happened?”

“Ria fell to blight poisoning.” His jaw was tight, and Lydia noted the circles of exhaustion beneath his eyes. “It was one of Rufina’s agents, but Helene and the other High Lords blamed Hacken and accused him of murder.” His throat moved as he swallowed hard. “They hanged him this morning, and they are planning to strip the crown from your head and put it on Helene’s. Likely because she’ll be the proper puppet that they all want.”

“I’ll try to intervene,” Malahi said. “I’ve no notion if Ria named an heir, but if not, I may be able to reclaim my vote. Helene is no leader, and every decision will be subject to infighting between theHigh Lords. Mudamora needs a queen who can lead, and that queen is you, Lydia.”

That queen is you, Malahi,Lydia thought, but only nodded. “Any word from Teriana? Kaira told me that the Cel released her.” She kept what else Kaira had said to herself.

“No,” Killian said. “Nor of theQuincense.”

“The Gamdeshians blame her for everything.” Lydia glanced over her shoulder to watch Sonia leading Kalin carefully down the gangplank.

“Everyone likes a scapegoat,” Agrippa muttered. “Especially one who can’t defend herself.”

It wasn’t fair.

“Lydia, did you find out any more information after we left?” Malahi’s eyes were full of hope. “Is there a way to bring them back?”

Killian visibly stiffened, and Lydia shot a glance at him before she said, “No. I found no answers beyond what you already know.” Malahi’s face crumpled, and Lydia felt a surge of kinship toward the other woman, for no one desired to bring back the Mudamorians lost to blight as much as Malahi did. “We will fight for the living, and the Six willing, we’ll find a way to bring the blighters back to us along the way. I refuse to abandon them.”

Killian shifted restlessly. “They are dead, Lydia. You can’t bring back the dead.”

“Unnaturally dead. There is nothing wrong with many of their bodies, and I refuse to give up hope of a way to restore them.”

“Let go of that hope,” Killian said in a low voice. “Because I burned more than half of the blighter army to ash.”

Shock stole the breath from Lydia’s chest, but she still managed to say, “What?”

“There was no other good option. Our army at the front was losing the fight to hold back the blight, because the blighters kept attacking them. So I lit a fire behind their lines and with Baird’s help, blew a firestorm north that took out half of Rufina’s army. The blow put her on her heels, and our army is successfully damming all new blight flows, preventing the incursion into the south. But there is norevivingthe blighters who burned. They are gone.”

Horror soured Lydia’s stomach, and she took a step away from Killian. Hurt pooled in his dark eyes, along with guilt and grief, but she held her ground. He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have taken such a final step.

“On that revelation, let’s not linger out in the open any longer than we have to,” Agrippa said, gesturing to the waiting carriage. “We know that Rufina has blighters posing as civilians, which means anyone around us could be ears for the enemy.”

“He’s right.” Killian muttered, his eyes roving the busy docks. Not, she thought, because he was worried about spies, but to avoid meeting her gaze. “And you’re the only one in the city who can see them for what they are.”

Lydia’s skin abruptly crawled, and she allowed her focus to drift. Her gaze skipped over the mass of humanity in the harbor and her chest tightened as she spotted a young boy disembarking one of the refugee ships with his family. He skipped down the dock but his body was as lifeless as stone. He glanced at her, then at his mother, who was very much one of the living, smiling as she kissed his forehead. “I see one.”

“Where?” Agrippa demanded, unslinging the bow looped over his shoulder. Killian drew his sword, both of them searching for that which they could not see.

“The boy with his family,” Lydia whispered, the moment dragging her back to the horror that had been her time in Mudaire hunting the blighters. “Perhaps ten years of age, green tunic, red hair.”

Agrippa trained his arrow on the child, and Lydia grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”