There were only six of them.
Their Lyran delegate wasn’t with them. The dark-haired girl Kara had seen only hours before.
Sienna spoke first. “Where’s Rosalie?”
No one answered.
Sebastian was on his feet before Kara even registered movement. He stormed over to the Team One’s Thorne delegate. The man visibly paled under Sebastian’s gaze.
“Soldier.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet. “She asked you a question. Where is your teammate?”
“She... uh... she fell overboard, Sir,” the man stuttered.
“And?” Sebastian demanded.
“There was nothing I could do... the current, the river was too fast, she was gone before I even–”
He stepped closer. “You left her?”
“I didn’t have a choice–”
“Were you injured? Unable to move?”
The Thorne man paled further. “No, but–”
Sebastian’s fists clenched at his sides. “Then what the fuck does tenet three mean to you, Matteus?”
“But Commander, I–”
Whatever he’d been about to say died at the look on Sebastian’s face. Matteus took a step back.
“Get out of my sight,” Sebastian said coldly.
Matteus stumbled backwards and vanished into the barracks. Sebastian stared after him, his fury palpable. An awkward silence fell. Then it hit Kara, as strongly as if she felt it herself. Shame. Rotting, burning, shame. She stared at Sebastian. You would never have known it to look at him.
“Is everyone else okay?” Sebastian asked finally.
The rest of Team One nodded, though tears were streaming down the cheeks of both their Sorrel and Navyrian delegates.
Sebastian met the Sorrel woman’s eye. “I’m sorry for it,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened to her.”
She murmured her thanks as her team moved tentatively towards the fire. No one spoke. Jax climbed down from the wall, disbelief etched on his face. Sienna’s flute was quiet. They all sat in silence, shocked grief thick in the air. Someone had died. This didn’t happen – it wasn’t what the Arcalon was supposed to be about.
People eventually began to drift, one by one, back to the barracks, under the guise of going to bed, though Kara was certain it would be hours before anyone actually slept. The grief hung thick on the air. When Kara finally got to her feet, Sienna and Oryen stood to walk with her. She bid them a subdued goodnight as they reached her room. Through her window, she could see Sebastian sitting in the courtyard. He was leant against the wall, blade resting across his knees, staring into the darkness.
I’m sorry for it.
That’s what he’d said. Like he’d taken responsibility for it. He certainly didn’t seem like the man from the stories. The one who tore through battlefields without a backwards glance. But Kara was starting to realise that Sebastian Thorne wasn’t what she’d expected. She stood watching him a moment longer. Maybe soldiers like him didn’t need much sleep. But she should try. Gods knew what they had planned for tomorrow. Kara lay down on her bed and drifted into a fitful sleep full of unsettling dreams. Collapsing stone. Waves with a mind of their own. And through it all, flashes of green laced with red.
Kara startled awake the next morning, well before dawn. She placed a hand on her chest – her heart was racing. Unease prickled all over her body. She stared at the dark ceiling, hoping sleep would find her again.
It didn’t.
In the end, she gave up and dressed quietly, thinking she might speak to her father about the Arcalon, about Rosalie. The danger. Why he hadn’t stopped it.
When she stepped outside, the barracks were still asleep, the City streets empty, the quiet broken only by the occasional song of a morning bird. As she neared the Council gardens, three voices drifted towards her – low and urgent. Kara paused mid-step, then pressed her back against the wall out of sight, and listened.
“But if Draknor rises when it’s whole–” a woman’s voice said, and Kara felt a rush of fear that wasn’t her own.
