Prince Hawthorne runs into the village the second we appear, gathering a massive orb of water around him and dousing the first building he reaches. Without missing a beat, he drops more water onto the next building, then yells for the healers to follow him. Within seconds, he’s disobeyed my order to stay in my sight. I sigh. It’s not the time to fight this.

“Guards!” Carex yells. “Four of you should follow Prince Hawthorne and search the buildings that are no longer on fire for any survivors. Bring them here. The other two—stay here and start helping the healers set up a makeshift infirmary.” They nod and immediately follow orders. “His power will be helpful here,” Carex admits to me, nodding to the Prince. I reluctantly nod my head in agreement, but say nothing, just calmly walk into town to assist with finding the injured.

“Over here,” a guard yells, and I aerstep to where he stands in front of a partially burned home before he leads me inside. Huddled together in a corner is a family of fae—two children and their parents. It’s incredibly rare for fae to have two children, especially two who are so close in age. They’re burned severely, and only the father appears to be conscious.

“Please, help us,” the father croaks out, lips cracking as he speaks. These injuries might be beyond even my own healing power. Though I can theoretically heal with any conduit I like, I haven’t mastered any of them. It’s time to see if Prince Hawthorne is as powerful a healer as he claims.

“Get the Prince,” I quietly tell the guard before crouching in front of the family. I hide my cringing at their charred skin. “What’s your name?”

“R-R-Russell.”

“I’m going to heal you first, so you can help calm the rest of your family when they wake.” He nods. I place my hand on his forearm, and he moans in pain. I want to jerk away, but I keep my hand steady. Conjuring cool, healing water, his blistered and cracked skin slowly reforms under my touch. He hisses. “I’ll work as fast as I can,” I whisper. “Tell me if you need to take a break.” He only nods, eyes shut tight against the pain.

“Aethers,” Prince Hawthorne says from behind me, voice reverent. Russell’s eyes snap open and lock on Prince Hawthorne, and his already tense body locks up.

“Vel-Velmaran,” he whispers, fear in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Russell,” I tell him. “Prince Hawthorne is a powerful healer. He’s only here to help.” The Prince crouches beside me and reaches for the first child. Russell hisses.