“Hermen Tosch brought your gilden. Quite a lot of it.”
Ella thought about her last words with the trader. Hermen had come through for them. He’d given up the wealth he’d taken a lifetime to accumulate, and he wasn’t even here for her to thank him.
Miro smiled as he glanced at Ella. “You have some good friends.”
“Bartolo,” Ella suddenly said. “How is he?”
“Grumbling,” said Miro. “Angry that he missed the last of the fighting.”
“Sounds like Bartolo.”
“I’m going to head back to the palace. Are you coming?”
“No,” Ella said. “I think I need some time to myself.”
“I understand. Don’t be too long. The emperor’s going to be here soon, and I’m sure he’s anxious to see you.”
Ella nodded and kissed Miro’s cheek before leaving him behind. She walked through the city and crossed Singer’s Bridge, her path taking her to the partly destroyed western quarter.
The inhabitants of Sarostar were returning in a steady stream, soldiers and civilians alike working together to pick through the bodies, some searching for loved ones and others piling revenants onto burning pyres. The battlefield was the worst, littered with bodies, but at least there were more enemy dead than allied soldiers: most of the fallen defenders had already been taken away.
Ella moved through the fallen, wishing she’d done more, sooner. Soldiers and citizens bowed their heads to her as she walked, but she wished they wouldn’t. All of the fallen had parents and children, brothers and sisters. They would remember this day forever.
Then Ella saw a small body, incongruous among so many bigger corpses. Her heart skipped a beat as she rushed forward.
Ella knelt by the little woman, heedless of the mud and blood, and for a moment she could only put her hand to her mouth and stare.
Layla’s small features made her look more childlike than ever before, yet her ruddy skin was now a sickly shade of yellow-white. Red liquid pooled beneath her body, mingling with the mud. Ella wanted her to look peaceful, but she didn’t. She looked as if she’d died in pain.
Ella looked down at Layla’s eyes, open and sightless, and as she closed the lids, she fought back a sob. She smoothed the hair back from Layla’s brow.
Ella picked Layla up in her arms and stood. The Dunfolk healer’s body was so light, it was as if the shell she was now had lost weight when life left her.
As Ella headed back to Sarostar with Layla clutched to her breast, she avoided looking at the deep wound across Layla’s abdomen. Her friend deserved better than to die on the battlefield, on the very doorstep to the forest home she loved.
Ella was dimly aware of night closing in as she climbed a bridge and walked through the city. Lights came on at some of the windows, but still Ella walked, the load nearly weightless in her arms, her footsteps carrying her toward the Crystal Palace.
A tall bearded man in loose black clothing met her outside the gates.
Ilathor looked at the small body in Ella’s arms before meeting Ella’s eyes. “Ella,” he said gently, “she’s dead.”
“No,” Ella said, “she can’t be.”
“Let me take her from you . . .”
“No!”
Ilathor’s arms dropped at his sides. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“Please go,” Ella said.
Ilathor sighed. “Just remember,” he said, “I came.”
Ella nodded blankly, and Ilathor walked away, leaving her holding Layla’s body in her arms.
Ella had no plan, and she wondered what to do. The palace wasn’t Layla’s home. She should be with her people.
Ella left the Crystal Palace behind and walked through the city’s northern quarter, finally seeing trees up ahead. She picked a path into the forest, moving deeper into the trees.
Suddenly, there was a little man standing in front of her. His features were wizened with age, and his limbs were scrawny.
The Tartana of the Dunfolk regarded Ella with sorrow.
“Leave her with us,” he said.
Ella saw more Dunfolk emerge from the trees. The small figures came forward and took Layla from Ella’s reluctant arms. As they vanished back into the forest, Ella realized she would never see her friend again. The Tartana came forward to take Ella’s hand.
“Why did she have to die?” Ella said. She struggled to hold back the tears.
“She made a choice to stand with you. Many of my people did not. You must honor her choice. She is now with the Eternal.”
“With the Eternal?” Ella cried. “What does that even mean? Show me the Eternal. Where is he—or she or it? Show me!”
“Layla touched the world with her spirit, and now her spirit will rejoin the earth. Miss her, yes. But please do not cry for her. Remember her with a smile.” The Tartana grinned. “I knew Layla. She would like that.”