BATTLE CARDS

THE ASSESSOR

The east wing was a gilded cage.

The room Ordan had given him was larger than the entire apartment Ren had shared with his father above the laundry. It had a bed with actual silk sheets, a writing desk made of dark wood, a fireplace that was already lit, and a window that looked out over the inner city. There was a washbasin with steaming water, a tray of hot food on the table, and clean clothes laid out on the bed.

Ren stood in the middle of the room and didn't touch any of it.

Garrick stood by the door, his arms crossed, his face grim. "You should eat. You should sleep."

"I can't." Ren's hands were shaking. He was exhausted, but his mind was spinning too fast. "Ordan is meeting with Rask right now. What if Rask convinces him to hand me over? What if Varek gets involved?"

"Ordan is the Alliance Leader. He outranks Varek. And he owes your father." Garrick paused. "But you're right. Varek won't give up this easily. He's been building his power for years. He has allies everywhere. We need to be careful."

"Careful." Ren laughed. It was a hollow, bitter sound. "I've been running for weeks. I've been hunted by demons and soldiers and assassins. I killed a man in a village. I watched my friends die. And now I'm supposed to be careful?"

Garrick didn't answer. He just looked at Ren with those old, tired eyes.

The door opened.

Ren spun around. A woman stepped into the room. She wasn't a guard. She wasn't a servant. She was tall and lean, with dark hair cropped short and sharp cheekbones and eyes that were cold and calculating. She wore the dark uniform of an Order wielder, and at her belt hung a card that pulsed with a faint silver light.

Lyra.

She closed the door behind her. She looked at Ren. Then she looked at Garrick. Her expression was unreadable.

"Leave us," she said.

Garrick didn't move. "I don't take orders from you."

"You do today. I'm here on the authority of the Alliance Leader." Lyra's voice was cold. "He wants me to assess the boy. Alone."

Garrick looked at Ren. Ren nodded. Garrick hesitated, then walked to the door and stepped out. The door closed with a soft click.

Ren and Lyra were alone.

She didn't move. She just stood there, looking at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve. It was the same look she'd given him in the training yard, back at the frontier outpost. Cold. Calculating. Utterly devoid of warmth.

"You're Alden's son," she said.

"I know."

"You're the boy with the worthless card. The boy who was filed as a liability. The boy who should be dead." She tilted her head. "And yet here you are. In the High Keep. Under the personal protection of the Alliance Leader."

"Things change."

"People don't." Lyra walked toward him. Her steps were slow and deliberate. "I saw you in the training yard. I saw what you did when the card ignited. Every wielder in that room felt it. Our cards reacted to yours. They hummed like they were answering a call." She stopped a few feet away. "What are you?"

"I'm nobody."

"Nobody doesn't make a Master Grade card bow." Her eyes narrowed. "I want to see it."

"See what?"

"Your card."

Ren hesitated. He didn't want to show it to her. He didn't trust her. She was Varek's daughter. She was the enemy. But he also knew he didn't have a choice. Ordan had sent her. She was here to assess him. If he refused, he'd look like he was hiding something.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card.

It was warm in his hand. It was always warm. But now, with Lyra so close, it felt almost hot. It pulsed softly, a golden light that seemed to breathe.

Lyra stared at it. Her face was still unreadable, but her hand drifted to her own belt. Her card was glowing too, pulsing in time with his.

"What does it do?" she asked.

"You know what it does. It copies power. Ten seconds. Diluted."

"That's what the archives say. But the archives also say it's worthless. And we both know that's not true." She took another step toward him. "What else does it do?"

Ren didn't answer.

"I saw you at the outpost. I saw the way the demons reacted to you. I saw the way the soldiers whispered behind your back. And I saw the way my father looked at you." Her voice was hard. "He's afraid of you. Varek is afraid of you. And Varek isn't afraid of anything."

"Maybe he should be."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening him?"

"No. I'm just telling the truth." Ren met her gaze. "Your father is a monster. He's been stealing cards. Killing wielders. Hoarding power for himself. He wants me dead because I'm the one thing he can't control. And you know it."

Lyra didn't flinch. She didn't look surprised. She just stood there, her face pale, her eyes cold.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said, but her voice was quieter now. Less certain.

"I know what I've seen. I know what I've heard. And I know that deep down, you know it too." Ren lowered the card. "Why are you really here, Lyra? Are you here to assess me? Or are you here to see if the rumors about your father are true?"

Lyra was silent for a long moment. The fire crackled in the hearth. The city hummed beyond the window.

Then she said, "I'm here because Ordan asked me to be. He trusts me. He thinks I can be objective. He thinks I can put my loyalty to the Order above my loyalty to my father."

"Can you?"

She looked at him. Her eyes were unreadable again. But there was something else there now. Something that looked almost like doubt.

"I don't know," she said.

The door burst open.

Rask stepped into the room, flanked by two soldiers. His face was hard, his eyes cold. Behind him, Garrick was struggling against two more soldiers, his face twisted with rage.

"Captain," Lyra said, her voice sharp. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Orders from the Second-in-Command," Rask said. He looked at Ren. "The fugitive is to be taken into custody immediately. He's a threat to the Order. He's to be transported to the interrogation cells for questioning."

"You can't do that. The Alliance Leader gave him his protection."

"The Alliance Leader is old. He's tired. He's been outmaneuvered." Rask smiled. It was a thin, cruel smile. "Varek has taken control of the situation. The boy is coming with me."

Ren's hand tightened around the card. The warmth was rising. The power was stirring.

"Ren," Lyra said quietly. "Don't."

Rask stepped toward him. "Come quietly, boy. Or I'll have my men break your legs and drag you."

Ren looked at Lyra. She was standing between him and Rask, her hand on her card. She was tense, coiled, ready to move.

He looked at Garrick. The old man was struggling, but he was outnumbered. He couldn't help.

He looked at the card. It was glowing. It was always glowing.

"Ren," Seraphine whispered. "You know what to do."

He closed his eyes.

He reached for the zone.

The air went still. The fire stopped flickering. The shadows in the corners of the room grew long and sharp.

He opened his eyes.

"Kneel," he said.

The word wasn't loud. It was barely a whisper. But it carried the weight of absolute certainty.

Rask froze. His eyes went wide. His knees buckled. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, his face twisted with shock and rage.

The soldiers behind him froze. They didn't kneel. They were too far away, too outside the zone. But they stared at their captain, kneeling on the ground, and they didn't move.

Lyra was staring at Ren. Her eyes were wide. Her hand was frozen on her card.

The zone flickered. Ren could feel it slipping. He could feel his stamina draining. He didn't have much time.

"Leave," he said, his voice strained. "Now."

Rask didn't move. He was fighting the command. His face was contorted with effort. His hand was reaching for his sword.

"Leave!" Ren shouted.

The zone shattered. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. Blood poured from his nose. His vision swam with black spots.

Rask staggered to his feet. He was breathing hard. His face was pale. But he was standing.

"You," he whispered. "You're a monster."

He drew his sword.

And then Lyra stepped between them.

"Enough," she said. Her voice was cold and sharp. "Captain Rask, stand down."

Rask stared at her. "You can't—"

"I can. I'm the daughter of the Second-in-Command. I'm a Master Grade wielder. And I'm telling you to stand down." Lyra's card was glowing in her hand. "Or I'll cut you down where you stand."

Rask hesitated. He looked at Ren, at Lyra, at the soldiers behind him. His jaw was tight. His eyes were furious.

Then he sheathed his sword.

"This isn't over," he said.

He turned and walked out of the room. The soldiers followed, dragging Garrick with them.

The door slammed shut.

Lyra turned to Ren. He was still on his knees, still bleeding, still shaking.

"You're an i***t," she said. But there was something in her voice that hadn't been there before. Something softer. Something almost like respect.

"You saved me," Ren said.

"I assessed you." She knelt beside him. "And I've made my decision."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small white cloth. She pressed it to his nose, stopping the bleeding.

"You're not a monster," she said quietly. "You're a boy with a card that's too powerful for him. And you're going to get yourself killed if you're not careful."

"I know."

"Then let me help you."

Ren looked at her. She was close now. Close enough that he could see the faint freckles on her nose, the small scar above her eyebrow, the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because my father is a monster," she said. "And I'm tired of pretending he's not."

She stood up and held out her hand.

Ren took it.