Page 36 of The First Scar
"So." His eyes traced over my face like he was calculating what I'd cost him. "The dual-marked."
No welcome. Just a statement of what I was.
"I've been called worse," I said.
His mouth twitched. "I'm sure you have. And you'll be called worse still before this ends."
Behind him, a rebel unrolled a fresh bounty poster. My face stared back, stark and damning beneath the doubled reward. The words blurred at the edges of my vision.
Kaelen didn't look at it. Didn't need to.
"Twenty million marks," he said. "That's not a bounty, Amaria. That's permission. Every farmer, every merchant, every desperate soul with a blade and an empty belly—they're not looking at you and seeing a person anymore. They're seeing a new life. A paid debt. A full belly for their children." He let that settle. "How long do you think you'll last out there? A week? Less?"
My hands flexed open and closed into fists. I didn't answer.
"You're not stupid," he continued. "Reckless, perhaps. Proud, certainly. But not stupid. You came here because you've run out of doors, and this is the only one still open." His eyes, sharp and pale, held mine without blinking. "I won't insult you by pretending otherwise."
"Then what do you want from me?"
Besides my undying gratitude, which he was never getting.
"Want?" He tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him. "I want what I want from everyone who walks through that entrance. Usefulness. Trust can be bought or broken—I've seen it happen too many times to put faith in the word. But usefulness?" He spread his hands. "That's honest. That's something we can build on."
He turned and walked. Expected me to follow. I did—and hated that I did. Story of my life. Follow the male with the answers or die in a ditch. Inspiring.
We followed him deeper into the stronghold—past stacked crates and weapon racks, through an archway into a chamber that smelled like lamp oil and strategy. A scarred table dominated the center, maps held under stones and daggers.Kaelen moved behind it like it was a throne. Brannick leaned against the doorframe. Serenya and I paused in the middle.
"Your Marks," he said. "They're unstable. Every surge risks worsening the Veil fractures—and we have enough problems without reality splitting open in our sleeping quarters." He shifted a blade-tip pinning the nearest map, repositioning it like the conversation was just another thing to manage. "But instability isn't the same as weakness. A river is unstable. It still carves canyons."
"You're saying I'm a flood waiting to happen," I shot back.
"I'm saying you're a force that hasn't learned its own shape yet." He looked up from the map. "We're not a charity, Amaria. Everyone here earns their place."
He straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.
"There's work that needs doing. Dangerous work. The type that's been waiting for someone with your particular complications." His gaze flicked to where my Marks pulsed hidden under my robe, then back to my face. "Three tasks. Complete them, and you'll have proven you can control what you carry and be of use to us.”
He said it the way other males saypass the salt.
"You'll be briefed when I decide you're ready to be briefed. Until then, rest. Eat. Try not to bring the ceiling down on us."
"And if I refuse?"
Serenya groaned beside me and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. I tried to subtly stamp on her foot but she gracefully dodged me.
Kaelen's expression didn't change. "Then you walk back out that entrance, and we both pretend this conversation never happened. You'll be dead by week's end.” He blew out a breath and started pacing.
“But that's your choice to make.” He stopped in front of me and waited for me to look away first.
“I don't cage people, Amaria. Cages require maintenance." He straightened. "I simply offer shelter to those wise enough to recognize when the storm is too large to weather alone."
I gritted my teeth. For all his talk of cages and maintenance, I was feeling an awful lot like a cornered animal in a training pen. But he wasn't wrong. My jaw ached from how much I wished he was. Every word out of his mouth had been the same calculation I'd been running since the loft—the math that kept coming up zeros no matter how many times I checked it.
I met Serenya's eye. She didn't shake her head, didn't signal anything. Just looked at me with that quiet exhaustion that saidI know. I know. But what else is there?
I swallowed whatever I'd been about to spit at him and let it cut me on the way down.
Kaelen was already back to his maps, seemingly oblivious to my internal conflict, or choosing to ignore it. He lazily waved toward the broad-shouldered fae who'd greeted me like a long-lost sister—the one who apparently hadn't received the memo that strangers with bounties weren't typically welcomed with open arms and shoulder claps.
