KENT
The smell of copper and singed hair always took a long time to leave the clinic. I stood by the heavy wooden doorway of the main ward, my shoulder resting against the frame as the first light of dawn began to slice through the high windows. My muscles ached from the sheer volume of power I had channeled to fix the ward, but my mind was completely focused on the center of the room.
Three of my riders were laid out on the beds under Mara’s care. Jinx was the loudest, his wounded leg wrapped tightly in clean white linens, though his face was still twisted in a painful grimace.
Grace was moving between the beds. She had refused to go back to the house to rest, ignoring my explicit instructions to stay clear of the clinic. She carried a basin of fresh water, wiping the sweat and grime f
