Page 213 of Commanding Blood And Bonds
“Double fucking standards,” my grumpy chaperone muttered, voice uncharacteristically flat. Without even looking, I raised my hand and smirked when he high-fived it.
“Cyrus, Soap Boy,” I said, motioning between them. “Soap Boy, this is Cyrus Stuart, Prince of the Paladins, and his lapdog, Fluffy.”
Carrson dropped his gaze to his obscenely shredded torso, then glared. I was ninety-nine percent sure Ajax was smirking as he gave a two-finger salute.
“A—”
“Jax,” I cut in quickly, not wanting any tie back to Grayshell. Patting Ajax on the back, I added, “This is my brother, Jax. We’ve been nomadic for a while now, but he refuses to lose the accent.”
My gargantuan battle buddy rolled his lips against his teeth—annoyance or humor, unclear—before forcing the least convincing smile in human history and grumbling, “Pleasure.”
“I’m sure.” Oh look—sarcasm was universal. “Carrson Landry.” He dipped his chin in a well-worn gesture of formality, but no one moved to shake hands. The whole thing felt like a suspected-but-unconfirmed leprosy convention.
I popped my lips to break the awkward. “Did you bring something useful, or are we just freezing our asses off to burn calories?”
“No hello? I’m hurt,” Cyrus bit back.
Turning to Soap Boy, I chirped, “Hello, how are you? Good? Good, glad to hear it. Me? Oh, I’m fine. Just freezing my lady balls off because this idiot wants small talk.” I smiled sweetly at Cyrus. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way—can we move on? I have a memory foam mattress screaming my name.”
Cyrus deadpanned, mercifully cutting to the chase. Thank baby Jesus.
“I found your schematics. Still working on coordinates.”
“Good, so he can be taught.” I waved him forward, hand extended. He pulled a skinny rolled poster from his backpack with the flair of a swordsman—then, instead of handing it to me, slapped it lightly against his palm before lowering it to his side.
“You get the coordinates for the diadem once the crown is secure. These, you can have tonight—but I have a condition.”
“Oh, goody.”
“Well, two, actually.”
“Color me shocked,” I deadpanned, earning one of his patented irritated glares.
“Are you capable of holding your tongue for thirty fucking seconds, or would you like assistance?”
“Mmmm, will report back.” I twirled my fingers theatrically. “Do carry on.”
His jaw flexed. Then, glancing at Carrson, his face softened before sliding to Ajax…and finally to me.
“I wanna come.”
When silence loomed with deafening finality, I burst out laughing. “I feel obligated to take a drink just so I can spit it in your face.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know it’s shocking, but so am I.”
“Listen. I’ve studied the crown since I was ten. Charles was the first to connect it to the Solskari. And I have a sneaking suspicion your grand adventure takes place in my mother hierarchy’s original territory. I wanna help. Maybe all those years of study can be useful.”
“You…want to assist me?”
“Don’t make this a fucking thing.”
“Me?” I balked. “I’m not the idiot trying to convince the woman he’s tried to delete from the planet twice—”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“—and kidnapped once—”
