Page 80 of The First Scar
Chapter 18
AMARIA
The common hall was mostly empty when I returned. A few rebels hunched over the long table, spooning congealed stew from a shared pot. Someone had let the fire burn down to coals, and the light had gone orange, catching on the wet rings left by cups on the stone. Another cozy evening in the revolution. I was three steps inside when I heard the voices.
Low, tense voices carried from the alcove near the back where Kaelen held his informal meetings.
"You sent her to slaughter a male for a crime he didn't commit."
Eryndor's voice, but not the controlled, measured tone I'd come to expect. This was stripped down with its edges showing.
I froze. Pressed myself against the nearest pillar, the stone edge digging into my spine, and held my breath.
"I sent her to prove she could follow orders when it counts." Kaelen's reply drifted out, calm and stern. "Weneedto be able to trust her, Crownforged. Even in hard situations. Especially in hard situations." A pause. "What do you care what story got her through it?"
I waited for Eryndor's response. It never came.
Footsteps. Kaelen emerged from the alcove, smoothing his coat with that polished, unhurried refinement. His eyes found me immediately—no surprise, no hesitation. Like he'd known I was there the whole time.
"Amaria." His voice carried that practiced warmth. "I heard the mission was a success."
I stopped. Turned. Let my face show nothing but stone.
"Jorath is dealt with," I said. "The key is secured."
"Excellent." He studied me the way he always did. "You followed orders. Didn't hesitate. Well done."
The praise slid off me like oil on water. I knew what it was worth now. I knew whathewas worth. But, I could wait him out, play his games,winhis games, in order to get that codex.Thatwas worth it.
"Was there anything else?" I asked, my voice flat.
A faint disappointment flickered behind his eyes—the look of a male whose test had been passed too cleanly. "No. Get some rest. You've earned it."
He walked away, and I let him go without watching. My place in the Uncrowned now rested on a fabrication—a burned room, scattered blood, and a father who was three districts awayinstead of ash on the wind. If anyone discovered the truth, I'd be branded a traitor. Maxx right along with me.
But with the danger, a fierce new heat filled me. I had bent their rules instead of breaking myself against them. And Kaelen had no idea.
I allowed myself one breath of satisfaction before the sound of shattering glass split the silence.
It came from the alcove Kaelen had just left. Piercing. Violent. Some of the rebels in the room jumped, eyeing the entryway warily.
My breath locked, then Eryndor emerged.
He moved with his normal controlled movements—but his hand told a different story. Shards of glass glittered in his palm, embedded in the meat of his fingers, blood welling up and dripping onto the stone floor in a slow, steady rhythm.
The rebels nearest to him scattered. Conversations stopped mid-word. Bodies angled away.
They were afraid of him.
Good instincts. The kind that kept you breathing in a world that ate the careless.
I didn't move. "You deserved the truth. Not a test," he ground out.
A slow grin spread across my face.
I see you now, Crownforged. I know this flavor of Fury.
He'd put his hand through glass for me. For the insult of someone testing me like I was something to be measured.
