Page 115 of The First Scar
I opened my mouth to speak, but Eryndor shook his head. He pressed a finger to my lips and leaned in. "Quiet, little fox," he whispered, lips nearly brushing mine. Then tilted his chin toward the Enforcers.
Not yet.
He shifted slightly and kicked a loose stone. It skittered across the rubble, clattering to a stop ten yards behind the Enforcers.
They spun, weapons drawn, bodies tense. "Who's there?"
No one answered. The shadows held their silence.
Eryndor bent over and gathered a chunk of rubble. This one he chucked a little further out.
The Enforcers tensed, ready for an ambush. The one in charge jerked his head toward the sound. "We need to check it out."
They inched forward, boots scraped against stone, attention fixed on their imaginary threat.
The scavengers didn't hesitate.
They melted into the shadows—father first, pulling his wife and daughter behind him, forms vanishing into the labyrinthine passages before the Enforcers even realized they'd lost their prey. The father's eyes met mine for one brief second. Gratitude and terror tangled together in that look.
Then they were gone.
I turned back to Eryndor.
"Eryn—"
The shadows were empty.
He'd vanished. No footsteps. No sound. Just the space where he'd been, still warm against my shoulder, and the ghost of his thumb on my lip.
Gone. Like he'd never been there at all.
We ate lunch on the floor of the main chamber like refugees at a funeral—which, I suppose, we were.
Someone had jammed torches into the gaps between the bone alcoves, and the light flickered across skulls and ribcages every time the draft shifted. Brannick sat with his back to them. Maxx sat facing them, like he'd made a point of it. Serenya and I had claimed a stretch of wall between two archways, our packs piled beside us, close enough that our knees touched.
Serenya passed me a heel of stale bread, dense and dry. It crumbled where she'd torn itand tasted like sawdust and salt. I chewed it anyway, methodical and grim, because my stomach had gone past hunger into the numb stage and needed reminding.
"The King's doubled his trackers." Brannick's voice was rough, his usual warmth buried beneath exhaustion. "City's on full lockdown. No one in or out without papers."
"Shipments are cut too," Maxx added, stretching his legs out across the stone slabs. "Our supply line from the Eastern Quarter? Gone. Seized three days ago."
Ryla spoke up, her voice flat. "Every day we wait, more families get taken. More names added to the ledger." Her hand rested on Torin's knee, her scarred throat bare now, unashamed. "We can't keep hiding down here forever."
"We won't have to." Kaelen's gaze shifted to me. "The Codex changes everything. Once we have it, we control the information. The King loses his leverage."
Everyone looked at me.
I swallowed the bite of bread I'd been chewing. It went down like dust.
"I'll be ready," I said. "One more session with Dreadscale. Then we go."
Chapter 26
AMARIA
Dreadscale had claimed a side vault for our sessions—low-ceilinged, deep enough that the noise from the main chamber dulled to a murmur. A single torch burned in a wall bracket, its flame leaning sideways with the draft, more smoke than light.
I was sprawled on the floor. Flat on my back, breast heaving, sweat dripping into my eyes.
