Oh gods. Oh gods.
Elide glanced between them, and knew the answer to her next question:What can be done?
Nothing.
Ruks took to the skies, flapping toward them, soldiers in their talons and clinging to their backs.
“Has anyone warned the healers?” Elide pointed to the white banners waving so far out into the plain. “The Healer on High?” Hafiza was down there, Yrene had said.
Silence. Then Prince Sartaq swore in his own tongue, and sprinted for his golden ruk. He was spearing for the battlefield within seconds, his shouts ringing out. Kadara dipped every few moments, and when she rose again, another small figure was in her talons. Healers. Grabbing as many of them as he could.
Elide whirled to her companions as soldiers began running for the keep, trampling corpse and injured alike. Orders went out in the language of the southern continent, and more soldiers on the battlefield leaped into action.
“What else—what else can we do?” Elide demanded. Aelin and Rowan only stared toward the battlefield, watching with Fenrys and Gavriel as the ruks raced to save as many as they could. Behind them, Princess Hasar paced, and Chaol and his father murmured about where they might fit everyone in the keep. Those who survived.
Elide looked at them again. Looked at all of them.
And then asked quietly, “Where is Lorcan?”
None of them turned.
Elide asked, louder, “Where is Lorcan?”
Gavriel’s tawny eyes scanned hers, confusion dancing there. “He … he went out onto the battlefield during the fighting. I saw him just before the khagan’s troops reached him.”
“Whereishe?” Elide’s voice broke. Fenrys faced her now. Then Rowan and Aelin. Elide begged, voice breaking, “Where is Lorcan?”
From their stunned silence, she knew they hadn’t so much as wondered.
Elide whirled to the battlefield. To that endless stretch of fallen bodies. Soldiers fleeing. Many of the wounded being abandoned where they lay.
So many bodies. So, so many soldiers down there.
“Where.” No one answered. Elide pointed toward the battlefield and snarled at Gavriel, “Wheredid you see him join with the khagan’s forces?”
“Nearly on the other side of the field,” Gavriel answered, voice strained, and pointed across the plain. “I—I didn’t see him after that.”
“Shit,” Fenrys breathed.
Rowan said to him, “Use your magic. Jump to the field, find him, and bring him back.”
Relief crumpled Elide’s chest.
Until Fenrys said, “I can’t.”
“You didn’t use it once during the battle,” Rowan challenged. “You should be fully primed to do it.”
Fenrys blanched beneath the blood on his face, and cast pleading eyes to Elide. “I can’t.”
Silence fell on the battlements.
Then Rowan growled, “You won’t.” He pointed with a bloody finger to the battlefield. “You’d let him die, and for what? Aelin forgave him.” His tattoo scrunched as he snarled again. “Save him.”
Fenrys swallowed. But Aelin said, “Leave it, Rowan.”
Rowan snarled at her too.
She snarled right back. “Leave it.”