Wings of Fate

28. Only Once

    What had only been two hours in reality felt like a lifetime to Moira. She stared blankly into the distance as they rode back to camp. She didn't see the crescent moon overhead. She didn't see the stars. She didn't hear the distant crash of waves. She didn't hear the conversations carrying on around her.

    All she was aware of was the smell of blood and the dull rhythm of Jasmine's movements. She didn't even have the energy to feel angry. She prayed it would be different in the morning. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in this loop of numb emptiness. Was this how Kalian felt when he froze in the Witch settlement?

    "Commander?" Bellamy called, bringing his horse alongside hers. Moira didn't respond. "I just wanted to apologize for Malachi's disrespect."

    "It is not your duty to apologize for him," Moira murmured. "It's meaningless anyway. He doesn't share the sentiment."

    Bellamy gave a slow nod, then lowered his voice. "Five children escaped."

    The icy claws gripping her chest loosened their hold, but only a fraction. "Thank you," she managed to say. Bellamy bowed his head again and rode onward.

    Five children. Whether they had escaped on their own or been allowed to flee, she didn't know. And, she didn't care. There were five less innocent lives on her conscience. Moira rode into camp and dismounted. A young man took Jasmine's reins and led her to her corral, while Moira headed to her tent.

    Malachi stepped in front of her before she could reach it. "We should discuss the report for tonight's assignment," he said.

    "It was your assignment. You make the report."

    Lir cleared his throat, appearing at her side. "Apparently, General Dagen sent specific orders to Malachi about this."

    Moira narrowed her eyes. "Why wouldn't he have informed me too?"

    "He wanted me to do it," Malachi replied. "You are in charge of delivering the report, and he wants to know the exact casualty number, as well as the number of survivors, if any. If there are, you're the one responsible for tracking them down and disposing of them." Malachi leaned closer. "And he wants tokens of their death. An eye, a finger, and a sliver of wing taken from each survivor after they are slain."

    Moira stared at Malachi in disbelief. "We do not ravage the bodies. Even Faeries deserve some respect in death."

    Malachi shrugged. "These are the orders, Commander. I didn't give them. If you have a problem with them, take it up with General Dagen."

    Moira rounded on Lir. "Is it true? Did you see the orders?"

    Lir nodded. "Dagen's seal was on them too."

    "I saw five little Faeries disappear into the brush. I'll be sure to let General Dagen know how many trophies to expect," Malachi chuckled. He walked off without another word.

    Moira stared at his receding form, trembling with rage. Lir touched her shoulder and she jerked out of reach. "Let me handle this for you," Lir whispered. "You don't have to do it."

    "Do you know how it will look if I don't?" Moira snarled. "I have no choice. Send scouts to start tracking the children. I'll handle them in the morning."

    "Moira..."

    "Commander Lev," she spat. "Don't forget yourself, Lir."

    His gaze hardened into its usual steely nature. "Apologies, Commander." He stormed off, leaving her silently fuming.