Page 87 of Blackthorn

Charlotte

The Aerie

The Black Gate

Charlotte ran to him, embracing her friend fiercely. “What are you doing here?”

The poles clattered to the ground as Luis hugged her back with enough strength to crush bones. The snow that stiffened his coat melted against her. He released her when Draven growled, holding up a hand to mollify the vampire.

“After Draven’s unexpected visit, we decided it was prudent to make camp,” Luis said. “It seems we made the right decision.”

“There’s been a bit of bother,” she admitted, refusing to elaborate upon their misfortunes. “Where’s Miles?”

“Waiting outside the gate.”

“That’s for the best,” Draven said. “We can be territorial.”

“You said you’d take care of Charlotte. Look at the state of her,” Luis said.

“I’m fine,” Charlotte said, lightly touching the bandage on her cheek. Compared to Draven and so many of the injured, she was flush with good health.

Draven gave Luis a cool, appraising look. “You’ll forgive me if I disappoint as a host. I’m busy and don’t have time for this.”

The two men held each other’s gaze in some unspoken contest of wills.

Luis broke eye contact first. “I agree. There’s no time for this. There’s an army headed this way.”

Draven barked orders. Lemoine made them happen. Quicker than she thought possible, they established a command center and makeshift camp complete with a tactical map spread on a table, braziers for heat, and a triage station. Minor injuries were treated on the spot. The more serious ones were taken to the infirmary. Lemoine arrived with cold-weather gear, including boots with thick wooly socks, and scowled until Charlotte was suitably dressed.

The kitchen sent up what they had, mostly cakes and sweets prepared for the feast. Charlotte distributed coffee and cakes to the crowd. It seemed odd to play hostess when they were exhausted and injured, but bodies required fuel and rest. She couldn’t give them rest. Caffeine and sugar would have to do.

Circulating through the crowd also gave her a chance to ask if anyone had seen either Orianne or Jane. Someone saw them in the infirmary, but they vanished in the confusion. Neither had been there when the injured arrived after the battle.

Draven questioned Luis about what he saw, how many numbers, what type of equipment, and so on. Charlotte tried to pay attention, but her energy was flagging. At one point, Draven noticed her rubbing her wrist and sent a medic to fuss over the bite. Honestly, it barely hurt.

What Luis thought of the bite, he kept to himself.

“Most likely dawn,” some officer said. Charlotte did not catch the name and did not recognize the rank on the uniform. The crowd around the table spoke very quickly, using shorthand and code. She didn’t follow all their plans, but she got the impression that the situation was dire. Too many points to defend. Not enough people.

She grew drowsy, the very long day catching up to her, and nodded off. Draven let loose a blistering barrage of expletives, most directed at the people who failed to notice her asleep on her feet, himself included.

“And you, what are you thinking? You undo all my hard work if you kill yourself with exhaustion, and then what will I do? That is highly inconsiderate of you, sweetness,” he scolded, steering her toward a cot. “You’ve lost blood, and you need to rest.”

“You need to rest too, love,” she said, lying down. The cot was remarkably uncomfortable but to her aching body, it felt divine.

“I don’t sleep,” he said.

“I think you should make an exception.” She cupped the side of his face in her hand. He wore a grim, serious expression. “You look just awful, like something that crawled out of a crypt.”

He huffed, sounding amused, but the grimness never wavered. “That would be accurate.”

“When are you expecting the army to arrive?”

“Dawn.”

Charlotte yawned. “Then you have some time. Lie down with me.”

The serious expression softened.

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