Chapter 23 · Shana's Price

Shana had the blood tester in her hand before Alto even saw her move.

It was small. Crystal and brass, the size of a deck of cards, with the federation seal stamped into the metal casing. The kind witch-hunters carried during the purges. Alto's stomach dropped. He'd seen one of these before—Arlen had seen one—six years back, when they were mopping up after the Reach campaigns.

"Everybody stays," Shana said. Not loud. Didn't need to be. The handful of fighters still in the practice yard froze. Kael's hand went to his belt, but he didn't have a blade. None of them did. Shana's people did, and they'd just stepped out from the supply tent.

Lira was across the yard. She'd been talking to one of the medics, bandages still in her hands. Her face went white.

"You want to tell them, or should I?" Shana asked. She was looking at Alto.

Alto's throat closed. The sand under his feet hummed, low and angry. Voices pressed at the back of his skull. Not now. Not here.

"Tell us what?" Kael said. He shifted his weight, putting himself half in front of Alto. Old instinct. Alto wanted to laugh. Wanted to scream.