Page 319 of Scarlet Wars
A cute blond with brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. Smaller frame. Thinner nose.
Basically the magical equivalent of witness protection, except with significantly worse odds of survival.
As I approached the square, I scanned every corner while I read body language and tracked motion. Anyone who twitched, shifted, or looked even mildly suspicious got mentally cataloged.
I nexed everything I saw to James, feeding him intel so he could piece together the full layout.
The tension in the square was heavy. Not loud, not panicked—butwaiting. As if the entire place had collectively decided to hold its breath before the inevitable explosion.
Which, statistically speaking, meant we were about thirty seconds away from everything going to absolute hell.
Which also meant, I shouldn’t have been thinking abouthim.
But I was.
Because while I was busy studying the crowd for potential enemies, my brain had apparently decided the real emergency worth revisiting, was that last kiss.
It kept replaying in my head like a glitchy recording I couldn’t delete.
Which was extremely inconvenient when I was trying to prevent a small-scale magical war.
But I couldn’t help it. My mind wandered.
When I’d watched Cadendyingin that cell after he’d obliterated those Chiefs…
Every defense, every piece of armor I’d ever built shattered in a blink. All of it was replaced by something far worse: the raw panic of losing him.
Which was the only thing I could never survive.
But if I let myself have him… Would that really meanhis death?
Gods’sake, Emma. Now is not the time to figure this out! Will you fucking focus?
Right.
War.
Again.
I drew in a sharp breath as I took in the scene before me.
The Townsquare was full.
It was packed: bodies shoulder to shoulder, the whole place humming with a tense, confused energy of people who’d shown up because someone told them to, not because they had any idea what was happening. Floating lights flickered overhead beneath a sky that had rage-quit daylight.
I slipped through the edge of the crowd as soon as I spotted the United Chiefs.
On the platform at the far end of the square, the High Chief stood tall in Offensive attire, flanked by the other Chiefs whileJames was nowhere to be seen. Which didn’t exactly scream “everything’s fine.”
His words carried over the forum, amplified by magic. “Today,” the High Chief spoke, “we face a turning point in the long and noble history of Cyclos.”
“Last night, four individuals—Stephen Stone, James Walker, Caden Colt, and Emma Thompson—along with known Radical Cara Sinclair, attempted a coup to overthrow the United Chiefs. They have since been apprehended and remain in our custody.”
I stiffened.
“They’ve betrayed your trust,” he continued, his tone calm and carefully measured. “They sought to destabilize a system that has protected us for cycles.”
Lies. Polished, weaponized lies.
