Chapter 32
The first time I met War Chief Kalluri was when Rhodes dragged Shayde and me to his office after the food fight on my first day as a cadet. He froze the second he saw me. At the time, I thought he looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Ironically, I wasn’t wrong.
I’d never seen a portrait of my biological mother, but if Kalluri and Arrow had a history, then my resemblance to Harlow — and the familiarity in Arrow’s eyes — must have been obvious.
Besides the food-fight incident, I’d seen Kalluri only twice more—both times for interrogation. Once after Lakota chose me in the Burn Trials. The second after Professor Reynoski was found dead. He always seemed… eager to blame me. Like he needed me to be the villain in his story.
“Does he know?” I cut through the heavy silence.
Arrow coughed and then shook his head. “No. Kalluri was never aware that Harlow was pregnant. Let alone that his granddaughters were born into a prophecy thousands of years old.”
Thousands? As far as our history went, knowledge of humankind only stretched to just before the Battle for Mareki. There was so much in these lands left unknown.
“What would he do if he knew the truth, Father?” Fallon asked. “And what did you mean when you said part of his soul was corrupted?”
Father.
She said it without thinking, but the word landed like a balm. Arrow’s shoulders softened just slightly—like the title was something he’d nearly given up hope on hearing.
“And what do you mean by part of his soul being corrupted?” she added, gentler now.
Arrow hesitated, drew in a breath. “We’re getting off topic. There’s more to say, but not now.”
Fallon’s eyes flashed, as if she wanted to argue. But she held her tongue.
He turned back to the tome, lifting it with both hands. “We need to be absolutely certain we have all the pieces of the Key before the battle begins. Did anything else of importance happen during your mission?”
A beat passed. We exchanged looks—the kind that screamed Who’s going to tell him?
Fallon stepped forward. “We were supposed to avoid towns,” she began, bracing herself. She slipped her hands into her pockets. “But one evening we slipped into a market. It was late. Sunset was about to fall. We didn’t think it would matter.”
She exhaled slowly. “Nash and I followed these men—runaways from the Barren Watch. They tucked themselves into an alley, trading whispers like currency. They’re planning to exchange something… priceless. In return, they’ll be granted freedom to live in Tyria.”
She paused.
“There’s going to be a masquerade—a soiree—on Year’s End. They said it’s their only chance to slip in and out of Tyria’s stronghold unseen.”
My eyes flicked between Fallon and Arrow. With each word Fallon spoke, the color drained from his face—then flared back, burning with simmering fury.
He said nothing, letting Fallon continue.
“Something this valuable—what if it’s another tome?
” Her voice quickened. “We need to prepare to move fast and beat them to the soiree. If we can find the drop point, we can intercept it before it lands in the wrong hands. We got into Mageia undetected, and now that we know we work well together, we can do this. Clean and fast—”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Arrow snapped, cutting her off like a blade.
Fallon froze mid-sentence, jaw slack with disbelief.
“You were under strict orders to avoid towns. Stay hidden. Cause no trouble. But you—” He jabbed a finger at her, voice rising, “you never listen, do you, Fitzroy?”
The name hit like a slap. Fallon flinched, her whole body recoiling.
Fitzroy. Not daughter. Not Fallon. Just another soldier under his command. Another disappointment.
“Out. All of you,” Arrow snapped, turning on his heel and running a hand through his cropped hair in frustration.
Nash and Rhodes exchanged quick glances and stepped toward the exit. I stayed rooted, unmoving, standing beside my sister.
“Father,” Fallon said softly, “I have a feeling this is it. Think about it. Something valuable enough to trade for freedom? Tyria needs that tome. Maybe they don’t even know they can’t read it yet—”
In the blink of an eye, Arrow moved.
He exploded across the room, shoving the table aside with a violent crash. Papers and glass scattered like shattered dreams. In seconds, he loomed over Fallon, his shadow swallowing her whole.
I lunged to intercept, pushing him back—but he didn’t budge. Not even a flinch. His glare burned into Fallon like a curse.
“You had months to source the marekem,” he spat, venom in every word.
“And you came back empty. If you could follow simple orders, we wouldn’t be playing catch-up.
We’d already have the entire Key.” His voice dropped, colder.
“I’ll take your little discovery under advisement, Cadet.
And I’ll deploy my soldiers as I see fit. ”
He stepped back just enough to gesture sharply toward the door.
“Now. Get. Out.”
I burst through the steel door of the smithy. The clang echoed off the stone walls.
“Where is she?” I demanded, breath ragged.
Doryan looked up from a wooden stool, leaning against the brick as Balveer worked the hilt of a dagger near the forge. Sparks flared, shadows dancing—but only Doryan responded. His brow lifted at the sight of me.
“Who?” he asked cautiously.
“Fallon,” I gasped. “Arrow ordered us out after their fight. She and River took off before I could follow. I can’t reach her through the marekem — her mental gates are locked down.
I know she’s blocking me. Where would she go?
” I hesitated, glancing at the ground. “I figured… you’d know.
You’re like — her only friend,” I muttered.
Doryan stood slowly, expression unreadable. Then his shoulders softened. “There’s an old training yard,” he said. “Southeast of the ring. Overgrown, mostly forgotten. She goes there when she needs to breathe. Especially when General Fitzroy is—” he glanced at Balveer.
“An ass,” Balveer finished without looking up. “When Fitzroy’s an ass.”
Doryan nodded slightly. “If that’s where she is… she might not want company, Scar.”
The nickname caught me off guard, landed in my chest like a stone.
I blinked hard. “Or maybe,” I said quietly, “she just wants someone to come looking for her.”
Doryan’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t reply.
I wrung my hands as I stepped closer. Nerves crawled up my spine. “One more thing — can a sword be forged to match these?” I unsheathed my daggers; the blades gleamed under the forge’s light.
Balveer set his tool down and reached for one dagger, twisting it in his hands with a careful eye. “Should be possible. Can you leave one here while we work on it?”
I sheathed the other dagger and nodded, grateful. Then a door at the back of the smithy creaked open. I spun around, heart still pounding.
Shayde stood there shirtless, sweat and soot streaking his skin as he wiped down an arrowhead.
His warm brown eyes met mine and locked.
His hair had grown longer since I last saw him, unkempt and curling behind his ears.
The dragon mark on the left side of his head had faded beneath his longer hair, but I still knew exactly where it was.
Because I’d traced it with my fingertips.
My throat closed. I looked away quickly, cheeks flushing at the too-intimate memory — at the too-bare reality of him standing there.
“What’s wrong?”
Shayde’s voice yanked me backward—to bonfires and Sanctuary parties, to laughter, to the time he gave me his extra clothes when Pehper ruined mine with iced coffee.
Pinky promise me that if you ever do need saving, you’ll let me. Okay?
My eyes burned. I shut them quickly, traitors that they were.
“Nothing,” I whispered. Then louder, as I turned to leave, I borrowed the nickname I’d heard Fallon use a dozen times. “Thanks, D.”
Rhodes was instructing Davis in self-defense when I arrived at the sparring ring.
I pressed on, heading southeast along a worn path between the huts.
The sun had fully set; the sky was black and starless.
Light from the sconces inside the huts bled through curtained windows, casting flickering glows that guided my steps.
I heard my sister before I saw her.
Rounding a corner, I came upon an old training yard, nearly swallowed by weeds. The space mirrored the ring where Fallon had once knocked me out, but this one had long been forgotten. Wooden dummies stood crooked in a circle, targets painted on chests now moldy and faded with time.
Fallon was kickboxing one of them, a cracked, battered cushion strapped to its midsection.
Her fists landed like thunder—each strike making the dummy creak on its rusted hinges, like it might topple any second.
But she didn’t stop. Blow after blow, kick after kick, she poured herself into a fight that wasn’t there.
River lay off to the side in the tall grass, eyes half-lidded, tail flicking lazily with each of Fallon’s strikes.
“What are you doing here?” Fallon growled between kicks.
Honestly? I had no fucking idea.
“I—I came to check on you.”
Fallon laughed, sharp and humorless, raining a flurry of punches down on the battered dummy. “I’m fine. Bye.”
Her words yanked me back to that rooftop with Laney. That moment right before I told her everything. Right before I let myself unravel.
Fallon landed a hard right hook and finally turned to face me. A loose, sweaty strand of hair clung to her cheek. She blew it away. “Did I stutter? Bye.”
My skin burned. Every instinct screamed at me to walk away, to leave her spiraling. But this—this was exactly what I did to Laney. Fallon’s not angry. She’s not cold. She’s scared. She’s pushing me away because she doesn’t think she’s worth chasing.
I’d never been on this side of the conversation before. So I borrowed the words that had reached me when I needed them most.
“Nobody would be fine after how he spoke to you,” I said, voice steady.
Fallon’s chest heaved. Weeds curled tightly around the ring, like a cage. “I’m fine,” she spat.
I stepped forward, breaching the wall of weeds she’d conjured around herself and crossing into the overgrown ring.
“Stop lying.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice cut like steel, but it didn’t cut me.
“You heard me. Stop lying. You’re not going to scare me away.”
I moved behind the dummy, bracing it steady for her. Her eyes flicked from me to the dummy, confusion for just a moment.
Then she struck again.
“Ha,” she scoffed. “If I wanted to scare you, sis, you’d be curled up in a ball like you were in that shed. Crying like the big fucking baby you already are.”
The words stung, but I let them bounce off like armor.
I nodded at the dummy. “Go on.”
She squared up and kicked.
“It takes a scared one to know one,” I said, letting the taunt slip out easily.
“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Punch. “I’m not—” Kick. “Scared of—” Punch, punch. “Anything or anyone.” Kick, punch, kick.
“Then why’d you leave after you broke me free from those chains?”
Her next kick nearly knocked the dummy—and me—off balance, but I stayed steady.
“I didn’t,” she muttered, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I was in the trees. Watching you crawl out of that pitiful shed like the pathetic mess you are.”
I clicked my tongue. “So you broke orders, but not too much. Let me guess—you were scared of being seen. Afraid of what Arrow would do if you had been.”
Her hazel eyes narrowed into slits.
“Sounds to me like you were scared of the consequences.”
“You don’t know what the elements you’re talking about,” she hissed.
I released the dummy and stepped back with a shrug. “Then enlighten me.”
The weeds around her boots crawled higher, climbing like they fed off her anger. “You don’t know half the shit I’ve been through.”
Those words hit hard—because they were mine. Word for word. I took a step closer. “And whose fault is that?” I asked quietly. “You won’t let me in.”
She wavered like I’d struck her. “Why would you want me to?”
I let out a breath that came out more like a sob. “Because you’re my sister,” I said, my voice cracking on the last word. “You matter to me. You’re all I have. And I won’t leave you.”
Her eyes fluttered — the first time I’d seen her truly speechless. I’d driven my boot into a weak spot in her armor, and now I twisted.
“It’s okay to not be okay,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
Fallon’s eyes squeezed shut, like she was holding back tears. A cracked, raw sound escaped her, and she whipped around. A vine lashed from her palm, snapping a wooden dummy clean off its hinges.
Damn.
Her back was to me now, shoulders heaving as if she were struggling to hold the pieces of herself together. I knew that feeling. I’d lived in it.
I swallowed hard, searching for the next step, the right crack to keep chipping at.
“You know—deep in your frozen fucking heart—that we need to intercept the drop at the soiree,” I said quietly, carefully.
“I know you know. So why do you let him undermine you, Fallon? Why do you let him cast you aside, run all over you?”
She didn’t move. I pressed on.
“You are the smartest, toughest, most skilled fighter I’ve ever seen. I know that isn’t saying much, coming from me, but it’s still true. And if Arrow Fitzroy can’t see that, then make him see it.”
Her head tilted down just enough to tell me she was listening. Her braid slipped forward as she let out a long, tired breath.
And then, without a word, she shook her head, threw her braid back, and stormed across the ring toward River. Fallon swung up into the saddle, still not looking at me. Not once. She shifted her weight, guiding River away from the clearing, away from me.
Watching her ride away from this conversation, from me, ripped something open in my chest. Then the words — those words I’d repeated to myself for over a year — spilled out uncontrollably.
I’d always thought they were mine. Spoken in my mind, with my voice.
Only now did I realize—they were never mine.
They were hers.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted with everything I had, “You are meant for more!”
River froze mid-step. Fallon slowly turned in the saddle. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the streaks of tears tracing down her cheeks.
My fists clenched at my sides, and I echoed the words across the marekem. “You are meant for more.”