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 screamedWho’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 exchangesomething… 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—”
“Youwill 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 themarekem,” 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 themarekem— 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.”
