The sword flew past Cassie’s face with a whoosh of heat and steel.
It slammed into the Red Claw soldier creeping up behind her, the traitor she hadn’t sensed.
The blade struck deep into his chest, throwing him backward with a sickening crunch against the blackened wall.
Cassie blinked, stunned.
For a second, she thought the sword had been meant for her.
But then Lark appeared from the smoke, boots crunching over gravel and ash.
He didn’t speak at first. He just reached into the inner lining of his cloak and pulled out a bloodstained scroll.
Her name was on it.
Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as Lark held it out to her. The wax seal was cracked, both Greyer and Red Claw crests fused on the parchment like a mockery of loyalty.
One broken crown. One burning moon.
Mark steppe
