Chapter 65: THE LAST MINER

DIANA’S POV

The last trapped miner came out of Rellan after midnight.

By the time the confirmed recovery packet reached Blackharrow through the relay, the rescue at Rellan had already moved into another day.

Daric opened it in the infirmary waiting area while half the remaining families watched him from chairs, benches, and whatever sections of wall had become acceptable places to sleep.

"Final trapped group recovered."

Nobody moved yet.

They had learned to wait for the rest.

Daric continued.

"Three require immediate treatment. Two are able to walk with assistance."

A woman near the window covered her mouth.

"And the last?"

Daric checked the attached page.

"Alive."

Several people exhaled at once. Someone behind Diana began crying before Daric had finished lowering the page.

Diana closed her eyes.

Thirty-seven.

Every worker who had gone below was now accounted for.

That did not mean all thirty-seven were coming home.

Three miners had died before rescuers could reach them.

Another had died after extraction.

The number on the board had changed several times over the rescue.

37 TRAPPED AT TIME OF COLLAPSE.

Beneath it, the final status would now read:

33 SURVIVORS.

4 DEAD.

NONE MISSING.

Diana looked at the last line longest.

None missing.

Mistress Hale approached quietly.

"Your Grace, several families want to remain until their relatives are cleared to travel."

Diana looked around.

Some had family still being treated at Rellan.

Some were waiting for bodies to be returned.

Some simply did not seem ready to leave the place where they had spent days waiting for every message.

She wrote: KEEP THE ROOMS OPEN.

"All of them?"

UNTIL THEY ARE NO LONGER NEEDED.

Mistress Hale nodded.

"I’ll tell the household."

No one asked whether the gathering was over.

The emergency was ending at different times for different people.

The same packet carried Raigoro’s latest medical status.

GRAND DUKE REMAINS STABLE. TRAVEL CLEARED WITH RIB SUPPORT. LEFT SHOULDER RESTRICTED. HEAD WOUND CLEAN.

Stable.

Diana read that word several times.

Alma leaned over her shoulder.

"He is still going to attempt to work while traveling."

Diana looked at her.

"You know he is."

Unfortunately.

Diana took another slate.

THE HEALER CAN STOP HIM.

Alma considered.

"Can she?"

Diana frowned.

An excellent question.

Rellan expected the recovery convoy to leave later that morning with the wounded miners, rescue workers, the dead, and Raigoro.

The convoy left as planned.

Blackharrow received scheduled reports as it moved through the territorial relay stations.

The families changed with the days.

Those whose relatives could remain at Rellan returned south or went home to nearby districts.

Others stayed because wounded workers were traveling with the convoy.

Joren’s mother stayed.

So did the families waiting to receive the dead.

The chairs remained occupied, though no longer by all the same people.

Diana continued working through household rooms, medical arrangements, death grants, transport needs, and the final casualty sheets.

***

Eight days after the recovery convoy left Rellan, the lower gate horn finally sounded.

The families gathered in the lower court before the second call finished.

Diana stood among them with the final casualty sheets tucked beneath one arm.

She had changed clothes that morning but not into anything ceremonial.

The dark wool dress she used for household work remained perfectly adequate for counting people.

Mistress Hale stood nearby with clerks ready to direct the wounded.

Daric waited beside the military entrance.

The gates opened.

Medical wagons entered first. Families surged forward until the guards raised their arms, keeping enough space for the wagons to reach the treatment area.

Names began crossing the courtyard.

"Marrek Sol?"

"Second wagon."

"Joren Vale?"

"Fourth."

Joren’s mother ran before the clerk finished pointing. Her son was pale, with one arm bound against his chest, but alive. The mother’s hands reached his face before anything else.

Diana looked away.

Other reunions came less gently.

One miner did not recognize his wife immediately.

Another began crying when his daughter touched his hand.

A man who had survived with only a broken ankle kept apologizing to the rescue worker beside him because someone else had not.

The dead entered last, and the courtyard fell quiet around those wagons. Families were taken toward them as privately as the lower passage allowed, which was not private enough. The Citadel had found a smaller room for notification before the convoy arrived, but anyone crossing the passage still knew why a family had entered it.

Diana remembered that.

Then Raigoro rode through the gate.

He had traveled most of the road under medical restrictions and had apparently decided the final approach to his own Citadel did not count.

Diana saw the bandage first.

White cloth crossed his temple beneath his dark hair.

His left arm remained close to his body rather than resting naturally on the reins, and a broad support wrap had been secured beneath his coat around his ribs.

He should not have been riding.

Diana knew this despite possessing no medical training whatsoever.

Raigoro looked across the courtyard, the infirmary staff, Daric, and the officers waiting near the military entrance before he found Diana among the families.

Diana forgot she was holding thirty-seven names. Relief moved through her sharply enough that she took one step toward him. Only one, but Raigoro saw it.

She stopped while he dismounted with enough care to make her even more certain he should not have been riding.

A stable hand took his horse.

The Citadel healer approached him immediately.

"You were supposed to remain in the wagon until the infirmary court."

"I did not."

"I am aware."

The healer pointed toward the infirmary entrance.

"Inside."

Raigoro looked toward Daric.

"Reports first."

"No," the healer said.

Daric’s mouth moved.

Raigoro noticed.

"You have something to add?"

"Not while she is winning."

The healer pointed again.

Raigoro went.

Diana’s satisfaction lasted until he passed her.

He stopped.

His gaze dropped to the papers in her arms.

"Thirty-seven?"

Diana nodded.

"Final?"

She turned the top page.

33 SURVIVORS.

4 DEAD.

NONE MISSING.

Raigoro read it.

His gaze moved to the second sheet beneath it, where every one of the thirty-seven names had been matched to a final status and family contact where one existed.

Every name had a final status, and no family still waited for someone who had been omitted from the count.

Then he looked toward the family rooms behind Diana.

"You kept the corrected count."

Diana nodded.

"It mattered."

The Citadel healer pointed toward the infirmary again.

This time Raigoro obeyed.

Good.

He deserved it.

Diana followed with the argument she had been saving for him.