Page 15 of The First Scar
"DUAL-MARKED!" The priest shrieked. His arm shot toward me, robes swinging, finger quiveringin rage.
The crowd erupted.
A market stall collapsed under the crush—wood splintered, fruit scattered across stone. Someone trampled a prayer banner into the dirt. A lady grabbed her child and ran without looking back. An old fae fell and nobody stopped.
The Enforcers drew steel. Six—no, eight—fanned into formation, blades angled toward me like I was a beast that had slipped its pen. Their captain was barking orders I couldn't hear over the roar of blood in my own skull.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Both marks still singing, and every nerve in my body paying the price for it.
Pebbles lifted behind the Enforcers. Hovered for a heartbeat. Dropped.
The Veil had felt that.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, a defiance uncurled from my core.
Good. Let it feel me. Let them all feel what they've been so afraid of.
A cobalt flash cut through the mayhem. The Crownforged cleared a toppled market stall in one vault, rune-rope already singing from his fist. It lashed toward me—fast, precise, aimed to bind.
I dodged. Barely. And grinned.
"Yield," he commanded, his voice cutting through the stunned air.
I bared my teeth. "No."
He whipped out the lasso again.
I twisted sideways. The rope cracked the air where my neck had been a second ago. The runes on it still keened—hungry, waiting for skin to latch onto.
The crowd broke. Bodies surged in every direction—carts toppling, grains rolling across stone and trampled underfoot. Half of them were screamingsaviour. The other half screamedmonster.
I found Serenya across the plaza. She was pressed against an overturned cart with her ceremonial dagger drawn.
"Hide!" I shouted. "I'll find you later!"
She held my gaze for one beat. Nodded. Then she was gone.
The Crownforged loosed an arrow. It hissed past my ear and I dove, hitting stone hard. When I looked back, pupils dilated in disbelief.
Bastard doesn’t like to miss, does he? He’ll have to get used to it.
He nocked the next arrow.
I rolled onto my side and found the vambrace by feel—stars sliding free, four-pointed steel, small enough to palm.
Two left my hand before I'd finished aiming.
They buried themselves in the ropes binding the Rhain family. The fibers split—halfway. Not enough. The father jerked against the posts, trying to wrench free, but the remaining strands held him fast.
My fingers closed around a third star.
Steel crashed into my blade. The impact jolted up my arm and I staggered. The Crownforged pressed into me, his full weight behind the strike, driving me backward. I locked my dagger against his sword and my boots skidded on loose pebbles. He shoved sideways, wrenching my blade out of line, edges shrieking against each other. Sparks bit my skin. His tip sliced my cheek on the follow-through. A hot sting, then blood ran down my chin.
"You bleed chaos," he gritted, his eyes, chilled as winter rivers, locked on mine.
"You bleed obedience," I shot back, a breath away from his face.
For a split second, the air between us thrummed, a chord finally struck.
