The stink of ash clung to his clothes, so deep it felt like it had seeped into his skin. He ran a hand over his face, dragging away grit and sweat, but it didn't help. The city smelled like loss, and no washcloth would scrub it clean.
Nathan had fallen asleep again, breath shallow but steady. Merlin didn't dare move him. Not yet. His eyes followed the line of broken rooftops and scorched streets. Fires still smoldered in pockets, thin gray smoke curling upward, drifting lazily into the sky. The whole district felt like it was holding its breath.
A guard jogged past, helmet tucked under his arm, face streaked with soot. He slowed when he saw Merlin, hesitated, then offered a stiff bow before moving on. Merlin pretended not to notice. His jaw clenched until it hurt.
'Stop bowing. Stop looking at me like I pulled off some miracle. I didn't. Four hundred and thirty-eight. That's the number burned into the ground. Don't thank me for that.'
His system chimed, quiet as a heartbeat.
