“That actually sounds…” Rynna hugged herself. “Nice of you.”
He dropped the pestle into the bowl with a dull thud.
“It was expedient.” His hand flexed again. “She kept slowing us down.”
“Of course.” She didn’t believe him.
Kaelith reached for the pouch without meeting her eyes, the scent of crushed thorns rising as he funneled the powder inside.
“What happened to her?” Rynna’s voice barely carried.
He didn’t answer at first. Just stilled, hand hovering above the drawstring.
“What happens to all hopeless Hollow-born,” he said eventually. “She didn’t make it through her first mission.” His eyes closed, and a moment passed. “We were twelve.”
Then he began tying the pouch shut.
“Luckily, we were assigned someone competent after she died.” His mouth slanted into something that wanted to be a smile but twisted instead. “Thatbitch is probably wondering where I am by now.”
“Kae…” She stepped forward, unsure of what she meant to say.
“Don’t you have some pedestrian task to perform?” A muscle ticked along his cheek. “Elsewhere.”
Rynna drew the bowstring back, her stance solid, feet shoulder-width apart, knees flexible. The string stretched further as her fingers grazed her cheekbone, and she exhaled through her nose. Steady. Clean form.
It had been three days since he’d effectively dismissed her. Three days since he’d said a word or even looked at her.
And, surprisingly, it fucking grated.
Her spine locked, tension surging down her arm, and the string snapped free.
The recoil caught her before she registered the failure, a whipcrack sting across her cheek. Metal clanged as the arrowhead skittered across the rock, the bow landing beside it with a dead thud.
“Shit!” Her hand flew to her face.
“Guide Rynna!” Ben’s voice broke from the cluster of younglings behind her.
She turned away, clutching her face, blood hot and slick between her fingers. “I’m fine,” she called out.
Footsteps scuffed behind her.
“No—stay back!” She spun, fast. One arm out to hold the kid off. “Just a scratch.” She yanked her shirt over her head and pressed the fabric hard against the wound.
“Face wounds bleed like hell, that’s all. Stay back, I mean it.”
She should’ve been more careful. Stupid. Letting her blood spray. If it touched anyone…
“Rynna?”
Mira’s voice. Crisp. Dry.
Rynna didn’t turn right away. She focused her mind. Slowing the frantic pump of her heart. Then she pivoted, pressing her shirt harder against the wound, blood already soaking through the linen.
“Stupid mistake.” She lifted her elbow slightly, revealing the dark bloom spreading across the fabric. “Already paying for it.”
Mira looked past her to the twisted shape of the bow on the ground, string dangling limp.
“A mistake?” Her brow arched as she turned to Ben. “Is that what happened, boy?”
