Hiro

"Where did you get that?"

"What?" Jemma asked.

“The golden arrow.”

Jemma looked toward the shelf. A memory flooded into her — one she never liked to remember. Her stomach flipped.

“They granted me the Hiro—"

“To a woman?"

Her eyes snapped at him. "Yes. I’m the only one. I won’t lie… I wasn’t the strongest or the best. But I'm loyal." Her fingers brushed the pointed tip.

Coal’s voice softened. "Tell me more."

"It was the Veizla, honoring the king's daughter and her betrothed. I guarded. I knew what to expect. She was heartbroken. I told her to stay away… to forget him."

Coal frowned. “I remember that day, but how could you have known?”

“She told me.” Jemma swallowed. “She was my sister.”

Coal reached for her, folding her into an embrace.

“It’s okay,” She whispered. “I had to do it. But that—” She pointed to the trophy. “The words still sear my heart every time I look at it. ‘And the award goes to—‘”

She fell into Coal sobbing. “I killed her. And they give me this.”

“You had to. They would have killed you for being a traitor.”

“I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”