Page 134 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Which witch, which witch, three, two, four, zero. Three!” The blanket slipped off her shoulders, her trembling hand clenched to her chest. “Raven locks. Raven locks. Black and blonde. They hunt. Eyes like water. Blue, blue, blue. Tightrope—stop moving!!”

We did. All of us. I was pretty sure Alec and Fae stopped breathing. Kingsley froze mid-step as he reentered the room.

“Commander at the helm, always shifting, shifting, shifting,” she growled. “Commanders at the helm, united. With me, he says. Three. A raven cries, three. Prince of many names, a book, a crown, a raven cries. Shifting, calling, shifting—STOP SHIFTING!”

Ally rocked on her feet as her words crumbled into sobs. She crouched on the table, squeezing her head between her hands, eyes jammed shut.

“Mate, mate! Too fucking late. Through the gray she calls him. Broken, he rises.”

Her eyes flew wide as she began drawing again, desperate, unintelligible shapes rapidly scratched and colored in. “Don’t let go, just don’t let go. Stop fucking shifting!!” she shrieked, slamming her palms into her forehead.

I staggered back, as if a few feet of space could ease the hell she was drowning in.

“A bear. A bear—bring him back, dark one. White, white, and white. It burns!!” Her trembling hands moved to her eyes, pressing hard before her scream splintered into a piercing cry no soul should ever have to make. “Make it stop! Make it stop! Please! Help me.”

“Fuck this,” I growled, stepping forward to pull her into my arms.

But Ally was faster—she always had been.

One hand flung out and we were all shoved back, force radiating from her as she screamed, “Don’t touch me! Too much, too much.”

Tears spilled as her fingers resumed their frantic motion, eyes darting too fast to follow.

“Make it count. Make it count, make it count,” she whispered. And I stood there, helpless. Unable to guide her through this nightmare but refusing to look away. Refusing to leave her alone.

Kingsley huffed and stormed outside, Rose on his heels. Alec and Fae slipped quietly onto the porch so Fae could cry without waking Alvara.

The sun set. Rose again. Ally’s prophecies spread across the walls, the table, anything that would take pigment. Mangled bits of charcoal littered the floor. Her pale hands were smeared black like patchwork gloves.

At last, her weary eyes met mine. She whispered, “August,” and collapsed into my arms.

I woke to the sharp edge of hushed whispers and the weight of hunger clawing at my ribs. Gingerly, I slipped from bed, blinking hard to get my bearings. Judging by the cotton in my mouth and the ache in my limbs, we’d been out for a while.

Despite the tension thick in Kingsley’s safe house, I felt the first stab of relief in days.

Ally’s color was back.

Her hair fanned around her in rings of silky chocolate, framing her face like a halo. Her brow was smooth. For the first time all week, there was no tightness in her cheeks, no cursed trance pulling her away from me.

Was this what she would’ve endured if the reading had gone as planned? Would she have been trapped in the hell of our memories for days, clawing through the chaos of King Calloway’s twisted truth?

If we tried again, would it break her?

I sucked in a breath, ribs loosening as I watched her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. Reluctantly, I turned toward the murmuring voices.

“None of this was planned for,” came a hissed whisper—Alec, I was almost sure.

Kingsley’s sharp retort confirmed it. “Three, Carter? Three threads that don’t end with the world burning?”

“I trust Ally,” Alec replied, steady as ever. If I hadn’t already known, that would’ve been enough to prove he was the best friend any soul could ask for. And coming from someone who grew up glued to Sam and James, that was saying something.

“Same,” Fae chimed in, sing-song but sincere.

“She’s rarely wrong,” Rose added.

I crept down the hallway, skipping the second stair to avoid the telltale creak.

“But when she is,” Kingsley snapped, “it’s catastrophic.”