I pushed sweaty hair from his forehead, kissing his sweet, frightened face. “Will you let Saba carry you? I’m going to help you to bed.”

He didn’t protest, so I went to retrieve my amulet, putting it back on and tucking it under my top to make it seem like it’d been there the entire time. But when I turned, it was obvious Saba had been watching me, her lips sucked in as if to press back tears. I shook my head quickly, and she nodded in return. After a moment she rushed over and pulled me into a hug, her hard body knocking the wind out of me. She leaned her head against mine, and I finally had the sense to return the hug, gripping my wrists around her waist.

She leaned back abruptly and held my face in her cold hands, pressing her lips to my forehead. I broke into a smile like an impulse. This was no time for smiles, but I couldn’t help it. Saba was my friend, but maybe … maybe this is what it felt like to have a mother.

Saba released me and went into the closet and laid a blanket over Magnus before lifting him effortlessly from the ground. I led the way to his room, tripping to a stop in the doorway. Kelela lay in his bed, covered in a blanket except for her arm, which was bandaged and set and resting on a pillow. She snored gently. I hadn’t thought much of her—God forgive me—in all the chaos after she had fallen down the stairs. But now I was in my right mind enough to feel relieved. Her injuries would heal. She would be okay.

It was Magnus I was worried about.

“Let’s not wake her,” I whispered to Saba. “My room is warmer, anyway.”

Saba heated some water, and we gave Magnus a warm bath. And then she laid him in bed, and went back to the closet to … do whatever she needed to do. Probably move some furniture or rugs to cover up the life lost. It put a tinny taste in my mouth, so I focused on dressing Magnus. He lightly assisted, lifting his arms or legs when I needed him to, but he leaned his head on my shoulder … the only sounds between us his soft crying.

Say something, Andi. Anything. Anything to comfort him, to show him everything would be all right. Instead I just let him cry on me, loving him the only way I was truly good at—taking care of people who were in pain. It was a specific type of love I’d developed because it had been the only way I was allowed to love Jember. And, for me, I’d needed to love someone for my own survival.