Page 165 of She Who Was Severed

That gets their attention. A younger one—no older than me—raises a brow.

“You want us to cover retreat?”

“I want you to watch the exits,” I reply. “No one gets cut off. If someone does—we lose them. And if we lose enough, we lose the city.”

Another silence. Not hostile. Just… weighing.

The youngest Bone Line nods once. “Fine.”

I move on. “The cliffwatch will rotate every six hours. No crews are doubled up. No mixed patrols.”

Someone chuckles—I think it’s the Siltborn, but I can’t be sure.

“We’re not asking you to be friends,” Vale says. “Just not idiots.”

Now, finally, one of the Siltborn speaks.

A woman, old but ageless. Her voice is thin, soft as worn silk. “We’ll hold the east wall. That’s where it breaks.”

It’s not a question.

The others don’t argue.

I lean my hands on the table, Chain humming faintly beneath my shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to like each other,” I say. “But if we fall before they even reach the gates, then the ones who come after us won’t remember who you hated. Just who failed.”

The Chain tightens—not flaring, not commanding. Just present.

Like it agrees.

The Ash-Banner captain nods. “We’ll man the lower tunnels. No contact with Bone Line. They can have the upper exits.”

“Done,” I say.

Bone Line shrugs. “As long as we’re not cleaning up their corpses.”

“Wouldn’t leave you the honor,” the captain snaps back.

Vale grins. “Flirting? Or blood feud?”

The Bone Line woman scowls. The Banner man rolls his eyes.

The tension thins, just barely.

The room doesn’t feel united.

But it feels aligned.

I roll the map back. The Chain slips back beneath my cloak like a thing that’s heard enough.

One by one, they begin to file out—not quickly, not loudly. Some nod. Some don’t look at me at all. But no one speaks against what’s been said.

The Siltborn woman is last to move. She lingers near the door, voice trailing like a shadow.

“You’re not what they expected,” she murmurs. “That might be the only reason this works.”

Then she’s gone.