The room held its breath. Even themarekemfelt still.
“We must be certain we have the full Key before making another move into the Tomb,” Father said. “There won’t be a second chance.”
He paced behind the table, each word deliberate.
“The War Chief has begun preparations. Cadets are to be evacuated within weeks. Tyria will advance faster than expected—Mageia will soon be under siege. The cadets will be dispersed into safe houses, instructed to fight only as a last resort.”
He turned to face us, his gaze sharp. “All three legions will be stationed on Mageia’s grounds, giving us access to the castle under the cover of chaos. That will be your moment. When the lines blur and attention is elsewhere, you two will return to the Tomb.”
His eyes locked on Scarlet’s, then mine.
“And this time, you’ll activate the Key. Completely.”
“Why does it sound like Kalluri won’t just let us back into the Tomb without a fight?” Scarlet asked, suspicion lining her voice. “Doesn’t he want the same thing we do?”
Father scoffed, the sound brittle and hollow. “Kalluri may command me under the title of War Chief, but don’t mistake duty for loyalty. He’s never liked me—and I don’t trust that his intentions with the Mareki are pure.”
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed. “He’s the War Chief. What could you possibly mean by that?”
Father’s jaw tensed. “Your mother always said it was like a part of his soul was corrupted. That’s why Harlow left Mageia… why she found refuge here, in Hollow Summit. She saw what he was becoming.”
Scarlet’s expression faltered.
“But the animosity between us didn’t start there,” he continued, his voice quieter now, more bitter. “He hated me long before Harlow left him.”
“Why?” I asked, though unease had already curled in my gut.
Arrow Fitzroy met my eyes, then Scarlet’s. His next words cracked the air in two.
“Because Eduart Kalluri… is your grandfather.”
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.
