Page 285 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Never thought I’d want to mark my territory, but goddamn, that fucker’s hands on her made my skin want to peel itself off my bones.

She kissed me back. Just as possessive. Just as possessed. When I eased away, chest heaving and blood still molten, she vowed, “Nothing happened.”

“He touched you.”

“As friends,” Atreus clarified, but the sound of his voice hit like metal shredding.

“He was actually telling me off.”

“What?” I bristled, glaring in his direction right as Tessa, Blaz, and Carr stumbled through the doors, waving awkwardly when they saw everyone in one piece.

“Now, are we gonna get out measuring tapes, or should we sit down and figure out how to back my father into a corner without a bogus marriage alliance?”

“Wait. What?” I looked between them.

“See? We’ve gotta work on that whole talking thing, Cy.” She grimaced, but it was for me this time. “He knows.”

“About the bond,” Viktor clarified, motioning between us. “Your bond.”

“Touch it, and I will rip you apart with my bare fucking hands.”

“Strictly speaking, I did touch it,” he said with a shit-eating grin I wanted to knock off his face.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s intact—I double-checked.”

“Intact,” I breathed, looking back to Freya, who just smirked up at me.

“Let the fear in the well, did ya’?” Atreus said smugly. I straightened, fists begging to swing, only to see Carr strong-arm the prince by the scruff of the neck and yank his ass outside.

Freya patted the side of my face before chirping, “Drink your coffee. There’s fuckery afoot, and you all need to come up to speed for it to work.”

FIFTY-SIX

A PRETTY PENNY

BLYTHE

140 days…

The dinner party with a ‘faction of the bloodline’ was apparently postponed.

Or at least, I certainly wasn’t in attendance at any kind of regal supper. Actually, the Balaskas family was conspicuously absent for the remainder of the week. The only royals who graced my presence were Barry, Cora, and Fletcher. The former in stoic near-silence. The latter two in a newfound routine that included terrorizing me with card games when the infirmary was slow.

Moros had survived.

So had the other two, much to my chagrin. Now that I knew Mags could withstand their deaths, I was more than a little disappointed the window had closed.

Mags and Aren had appeared in the mirror again the following night, attempting to piece together more about the palace—potential escape routes, the best points of entry. The problem was, I’d only been guided through a handful of hallways to a few dozen rooms among the inevitable thousand. I told them about the passageways, though—about Rhiannon’s magic somehow affecting these halls.

The loaded look between them slowed my stories like cooling molasses.

They’d already lost more days in their trek than they could afford and needed to leave. My chest caved into my now-churning belly.

After explaining my plan, they agreed to study our enemy for another two days. If I hadn’t pulled the trigger by then, they’d have to carry on regardless.

Today was their final day, and I was no closer to a resolution.