The infirmary smelled of blood and salt.
Elias stood in the doorway, watching Ava work. She moved between the cots with a quiet efficiency that belied her exhaustion, her hands steady despite the chaos that had engulfed Sanctuary only hours before. Nia lay on the nearest cot, her small face flushed with fever, her breathing shallow. The antibiotics from the island's stores were working, but slowly. Too slowly.
Ava looked up and saw him. "You should be resting."
"So should you." He stepped inside, his boots heavy on the concrete floor. The room was crowded with wounded—defenders from the battle, civilians caught in the crossfire, and a few of the children who had pushed themselves too hard. The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and despair.
"I can't rest. Not while they're st
