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The arrow hit the stone two inches from Rowan's head.
He dropped flat on the parapet and rolled left. His wrist burned. The mark pulsed hot enough to make his teeth clench.
"Found her," he muttered.
Another arrow punched through the air where his shoulder had been. Rowan scrambled behind a cracked merlon and tried to breathe. The Ledger didn't care that he had no weapons. Didn't care that the woman firing at him commanded the siege outside. It just kept burning his wrist like a brand.
Find Mara Quill. Keep her alive. Three days.
"Great plan," he said to nobody. "She's real motivated to help."
He risked a look over the edge. The courtyard below was a mess of broken carts and supply crates. Smoke drifted from the gatehouse fire. And standing in the middle of it all, bow raised, was a woman in mud-streaked leather armor.
Dark hair tied back. Sharp jaw. Eyes that tracked him like he was meat.
Mara Quill.
Rowan pulled back before she put an arrow through his eye.
"I'm not armed," he shouted.
The next arrow skipped off the stone near his boot.
"Okay, you don't care."
His wrist flared again. The mark crawled up his forearm, black lines spreading like cracks in glass. His vision blurred. For half a second he saw the courtyard from above, saw himself crouched behind the wall, saw Mara nocking another arrow.
Then the vision snapped back and he was just himself again, gasping.
"What the hell," he whispered.
The Ledger didn't answer. It never did. It just gave orders and burned him when he was too slow.
Rowan looked around. The wall walk stretched twenty feet in both directions before hitting corner towers. No stairs. No rope. Just stone and a forty-foot drop.
He was trapped.
"All right." He stood up, hands raised. "Don't shoot."
Mara's bow didn't waver. "Why not?"
"Because I need to talk to you."
"You're Veyran," she said. Her voice carried across the courtyard, flat and cold. "You're on the wrong side of this wall."
"I'm aware."
"So talk fast."
Rowan stepped forward, hands still up. The mark on his wrist throbbed in time with his pulse. "You're here for the city. I get that. But something's wrong with this siege."
"Yeah." Mara adjusted her aim. "It's taking too long."
"That's not what I mean."
"Then say what you mean or I put this arrow through your throat."
She wasn't bluffing. Rowan could see it in the way she stood, weight balanced, fingers loose on the string. She'd done this before. A lot.
He took a breath. "The people running this war aren't who you think they are."
Mara laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know Veyrhold's council sold their own people out?"
Rowan blinked. "You know?"
"Everyone knows. That's why we're here." She tilted her head. "What I don't know is why a Veyran analyst is standing on his own wall telling me things I already figured out."
"I'm not—" Rowan stopped. "How do you know I'm an analyst?"
"Your jacket. Council mark on the collar. Either you stole it or you're exactly who I think you are." Her eyes narrowed. "Rowan Vale. Disgraced. Blamed for the Harrow Pass disaster. Am I close?"
His stomach dropped. "Close enough."
"So what's your play?" Mara asked. "You want me to take you in? Give you a nice warm cell in exchange for intel?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Rowan's wrist burned so hot he almost screamed. The mark spread further, black lines crawling past his elbow now. His vision flickered again. This time he saw Mara from the side, saw the tension in her jaw, saw the way her left hand trembled just a little on the bow.
She was exhausted.
The vision cleared. Rowan stumbled forward a step.
Mara's arrow tracked him. "Don't."
"You have a brother," Rowan said. The words came out before he could stop them. "Younger. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. He's in a detention camp east of the Relst River."
Mara went very still.
"How do you know that?"
"I don't." Rowan looked down at his wrist. The mark pulsed, black and hungry. "This does."
For three seconds nobody moved.
Then Mara lowered her bow and walked toward him. Not fast. Not slow. Just steady, like she was approaching something that might bite.
"Show me," she said.
Rowan held out his arm.
Mara stopped five feet away. Close enough to see. Far enough to run if she had to. Her eyes locked on the mark, and her face went white.
"No," she whispered.
"You've seen this before."
"My brother." Her voice cracked. "His last message. He drew it on the back of the letter. Said it was important. Said someone was coming."
Rowan's chest tightened. "When?"
"Four days ago."
The Ledger flashed hot. Rowan gasped. The mark surged up his shoulder, black lines threading across his collarbone. His vision went white.
When it cleared, he was on his knees.
Mara had her bow up again.
"What the hell is that thing?" she demanded.
"I don't know." Rowan forced himself upright. "It appeared when I woke up on this wall. It's been giving me orders ever since."
"What kind of orders?"
"Find you. Keep you alive."
Mara stared at him. "Why?"
"No idea. But if I don't do it, the city falls. And a lot of people die."
"People are already dying."
"More," Rowan said. "A lot more. This thing—" He gestured at the mark. "—it's counting. Every casualty. Every death. It's feeding on them."
Mara lowered her bow an inch. "You're insane."
"Probably." Rowan laughed, sharp and bitter. "But you saw the mark. You know I'm not lying about that."
For a long moment Mara said nothing. Then she slung her bow over her shoulder and pulled a knife.
Rowan tensed.
"Relax." Mara flipped the blade and offered it to him hilt-first. "If you're working for the Ledger, you're going to need a weapon."
Rowan took the knife. It was heavier than it looked. "You believe me?"
"I believe my brother doesn't send warnings for fun." Mara turned and pointed at a narrow gap between two rubble piles. "There's a tunnel under the north wall. It'll take us into the old aqueduct system. From there we can—"
The ground shook.
Rowan stumbled. Mara grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. Behind them, the courtyard wall cracked down the middle. Stone groaned. Dust exploded into the air.
Then the wall collapsed.
Mara ran. Rowan followed. His lungs burned. His wrist screamed. They hit the rubble gap and squeezed through just as the second wall came down.
The tunnel entrance was a black hole in the ground, half-buried under broken stone. Mara dropped through without hesitating. Rowan followed and landed hard on wet stone.
Above them, the entrance groaned.
"Move," Mara snapped.
They ran.
The tunnel was narrow and low. Rowan had to duck. His boots splashed through ankle-deep water. Behind them, the entrance rumbled.
Then it sealed.
Rowan spun around. The way back was gone. Just solid stone where the opening had been.
"What—"
His wrist exploded with heat.
Rowan screamed and collapsed. The mark burned brighter than it ever had. Black lines covered his entire arm now, spreading across his chest. His vision went white, then red, then black.
Then he saw it.
Mara, dead. Arrow through her throat. Her body slumped against a tunnel wall.
Veyrhold burning. Every building. Every street. The whole city consumed in fire.
A counter ticking up. Thousands. Tens of thousands.
The Ledger's voice, cold and flat: Protocol failed. Calculating total loss.
Rowan gasped. The vision released him. He was on his hands and knees in the water, shaking.
Mara crouched beside him. "What did you see?"
He looked up at her. Alive. Whole.
"You die," he whispered. "And the city falls with you."