Page 43 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Forty-Three

LENA

T he Mages had won. Dimitri had been captured, the castle had been secured, and the slaves had all been freed. But at what cost?

Overall, this battle was a success, but as I watched Silas cling to that young girl’s dead body, as I witnessed the sobs of both humans and Mages who had lost ones they loved, I realized that there really were no winners in war—just those who suffered a little less.

Roland and Edmund had successfully detained the council, though Edmund had a nasty black eye from being punched. They were lugging them down with the help of a few Mages when my eyes skated to my Soul-Tie.

Silas’s eyes were focused on the girl, his entire body stiff yet shaking. He was crying. His face was blank, but the tears were flooding out. When his eyes rose to meet the man who killed Saoirse, I could tell one emotion overpowered them all.

Rage.

I could see it in his eyes as he went to place her on the ground. Saw it when his gaze locked with the kneeling man who took Saoirse’s life.

No one interjected when Silas stood, lifted his sword, and stepped toward the man.

“Pl-please—”

The man’s words were cut off by Silas’s sword plunging into his chest. He choked, panicked eyes shooting toward his fatal wound.

Silas’s face held no expression. He withdrew his blade, watching as the man slumped to the ground in a growing puddle of his own blood.

Part of me was surprised he didn’t torture the man, but the other part understood. He didn’t deserve a moment more of living, even if those moments were unpleasant.

Silas’s eyes went to the human council members being led out of the castle in cuffs. His eyes darted to Roland, then Hendry. “You two, with me.”

The two men nodded, then moved toward the Prince.

Silas moved forward, but the Mage restraining Dimitri held out his hand. “Their deaths belong to us.”

Silas came to a halt. “I don’t wish to kill them. I wish to extract information.”

“This is kind of our specialty,” Roland said with a dark smile aimed toward the King.

The Mage debated, looking at his companions, before agreeing. They all headed inside the castle .

My eyes went to one of the Mage women with long hair—still cuffed. “Why were the children out here?”

She choked on a sob. “Dimitri…he threatened to kill Polly if the rest of us didn't rush out of the castle,” she cried. “She begged us to stay, told us she was okay with dying…he slit her throat right in front of us.”

“No…” I shook my head, my hand covering my mouth. “I-I promised her she would be free.”

“It was clear Dimitri was going to kill us all anyway, so we ran as fast as we could. I…I couldn't keep track of all the children.”

My eyes went back to Saoirse, her body, among others, littered on the ground. Many began to lift their dead, bringing them to the graveyard behind the castle.

But Saoirse had no one. How did this little girl have no one?

Then again, if I had lost my mother, what would’ve become of me?

I was before her in seconds. I knelt down, running my hand against her tight, blonde curls. How could the humans look at her innocent face and shave her head? How could they put cuffs on her tiny wrists?

How could they shoot an arrow in her chest?

My lip wobbled, and I went to lift her but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

I looked back, and Torrin’s saddened face reflected my own. “Let me help,” he offered.

I nodded, removing my arms from Saoirse so Torrin could lift her. She was still clutching that kitten doll.

We walked silently to the graveyard. The residents watched warily from their homes, some fearfully, as they took notice of all the Mages that now ruled this territory .

I paid them no mind. I couldn't focus on anything except lying this sweet girl to rest.

It felt like deja vu. Just like in Forsmont, humans and magical beings alike were mourning their dead after another violent battle.

I wished there were a way to make things right without resorting to violence, but where corruption thrives, lethal force must be used. There was no way around it.

Torrin carefully laid Saoirse on the ground, then lifted a shovel and began to dig where there was an empty spot.

“Let me,” I insisted. “You’ve been put to work long enough.”

Torrin kept digging. “Which means I’m efficient.” His eyes flitted back to me. “Help El heal those who need it. This will take me about four hours. Come find me after.”

“Are you sure?”

He stuck his shovel in the dirt, then ambled toward me, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sure,” he murmured. “This will help me clear my head. Plus, our people need your guidance.”

“You were the one who led them to victory today,” I countered.

He smiled softly, brushing my hair out of my face. “None of this would've been possible without you.”

He held my face for a moment, flicked my nose, and returned to the task at hand.

My gaze drifted to the dead child on the ground, the wind drifting over her lifeless form, her short curls blowing with the movement.

None of this would've been possible without you.

It had been a few hours of healing both the Mages and the Faltrunian soldiers that had conceded. I reluctantly erased their wounds, many staring at me in disgust.

It was clear it would take a lot to change this place for the better.

Merrick had carried Erabella from somewhere in the castle; apparently, she had been impaled in the lung. Elowen worked on her efficiently as Merrick went to offer help to others.

I had found my way back to Torrin, the kingdom's clocktower chiming twelve in the afternoon. He was panting and sweating, and a sheen of sweat coated his skin as he finished digging her gravesite.

I choked on a sob as I stared at her. Carefully, I removed the doll from her small hands.

“Thank you,” I whispered, pulling him into my embrace. “Thank you, Torrin.”

His limbs were shaking from exhaustion, but he squeezed me tighter against him.

I wept as Torrin lowered her body into the hole in the ground. I placed a hand on his back. “I'll find you later,” I promised him as I pulled away.

Torrin didn’t need to ask why I kept the kitten. I walked away before I could see the dirt begin to cover her face.

I scrubbed the doll for what felt like hours, but it was more like thirty minutes, getting as much red out of it as I could. Overall, it appeared clean, but if you looked closely, you could still notice the stains from the little girl's blood.