"So you're telling me…" Amara's voice was sharp, low, and venom-laced as she advanced across the room, "…you found the Veridianian princess just walking around by herself, at night, with no guards, no escort—had the perfect chance to kill her, plant the dagger, blame it all on Aeruna—and failed?"
Crow didn't flinch, but the fire in her eyes made his spine tighten. She'd spent the last ten minutes listening in silence, arms crossed, but now her fury poured out in full.
"I didn't expect the Bandit Lord to just appear out of nowhere," Crow shot back, voice defensive, tense. "If he hadn't been there, I would've killed her. It was going fine until—"
"Oh, don't give me what-ifs, wight," Amara snapped, cutting him off with a shake of her head. Her tone dripped with contempt. "You failed your job. Not just as an agent, but as an assassin."
She stepped in closer, eyes locked on his. Her voice dipped lower, each word cutting sharper than the last.
"You had an opportunity the rest of us could only dream of. And you let it slip right through your fingers. That's not unlucky, wight. That's pathetic."
Crow clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah? And what about you, huh?" he barked. "You've been chasing Larkin for months. What do you have to show for it? Nothing but dead ends and excuses!"
Amara's eyes darkened. "I had reasons," she said, the words slow and deliberate, "I faced things that were far beyond some glorified bandit with a sword. Things you couldn't even begin to understand."
She smirked, cruel and cold.
"And besides… you're one to talk about being unprepared. You didn't even sense the rogue tailing the princess? Some assassin. Then again…" she tilted her head, eyes glinting. "Considering the way you died, I guess it shouldn't surprise me. Awareness clearly wasn't your strong suit."
Crow's fists tightened, nails digging into his palms, but he turned away, forcing the anger down.
"She saw the damn dagger," he muttered through clenched teeth, tugging on his coat with sharp, irritated motions. "That's enough to stir suspicion."
"I doubt that," Amara said without missing a beat.
Crow spun back toward her, frustration flaring. "What do you mean you doubt that? She literally said the Emperor chose poorly. That killing her wouldn't weaken Veridiania."
Amara rolled her eyes.
"And that was said in the heat of the moment. Once she calms down, all it takes is a bit of thinking. Then she'll realize it was staged—obviously staged. You used Aerunan steel. You used Aerunan firearms. You used Aerunantactics. It's like you wanted her to know where it came from."
She scoffed, voice thick with mockery now.
"She'll sit down and think, 'Wow, he used a dagger Aeruna soldiers carry. Wow, he used a gun Aeruna soldiers use. Almost like someone's trying really hard to make me think Aeruna is behind this.' But guess what, wight—real assassins don't want to be seen. Real assassins don't want a war. And no real assassin pulls off a half-baked performance like that."
Crow stood frozen, every word Amara had spat at him still echoing in his skull. Each syllable carved deeper than the last, festering with spite, shame, and fury. His hands trembled. His shoulders began to shake.
"Get out," he rasped, his voice low, raw.
Amara arched a brow but only shrugged. She turned on her heel without a care, walking toward the door.
"We're done," Crow said behind her, his tone sharpening like a blade drawn across stone. "You and I are no longer working together. Whoever finds Larkin first, takes him."
Amara paused in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable—then a slow grin curled across her face.
"That's more than fine by me," she said. "After all… it's not like you're of any use to me anymore."
The grin deepened. Crow didn't speak, didn't move.
"You showed me how to get atop the coliseum walls," she went on casually. "I'm a better tracker than you. Stronger. Smarter. More useful in every way that matters."
She turned her body toward the door fully but added one final dagger before she left.
"Be careful not to get in my way, wight," she said sweetly. "No one would bat an eye if I accidentally burned you unalive."
Then she stepped out and shut the door behind her.
Crow stood in the silence that followed, staring down at his hands. His fingers twitched. Twitched again. Then curled slowly into trembling fists.
"She thinks I'm no use to her, huh…" he muttered, voice empty.
He tightened his grip, knuckles cracking, breath shallow with fury.
"I'm making a vow."
He looked toward the door, his eyes cold and still.
"You're not leaving this city alive, Amara. You will die here."