Page 376 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Jesus.”

“We’ll see where His will puts us.”

Adrastos smirked again, sighing as he let his head fall back to the wall, eyes on the ceiling. My mind circled back to the one piece of the vision I still hadn’t solved.

“Cut the shit. Tell me about the binding.”

His glare was sharp. “I can’t. Or are you too dense to see that much?”

“I have to guess?”

“It would appear that way.”

“You helped Magnolia get the book.”

“Interesting theory.” He moved as if to run a hand through his hair, the chain clanking as it caught at his wrist. He glanced back at me with an exasperated glare. Like I was an annoyance, and nothing more. “Any other notions bouncing around in that head of yours, sister?”

“You’re Blood Bound to Moros.”

“Until my dying breath.”

I smirked, watching his sardonic smile and lazy eyes drift toward the window. “So, I can set you free in death.”

“What a mercy.”

“Would it be?” I tilted my head, curious whether he was sincere or if it was just another facetious play. “It’s easy enough to arrange.”

“Should Mor—” He faltered, almost gagging on the name. Tongued a molar. Growled through his breath. “You can only claim your life debt under certain…” He cleared his throat, the words seeming to burn their way out. “...circumstances.”

Pleading eyes found mine under a furrowed brow, his jaw snapping shut. The anger wasn’t aimed at me. Like static between broken images, Adrastos tried to open his mind to me—and my stomach twisted.

He could only show pieces. And even that was a struggle, his jaw looking liable to snap.

Twins with silver hair we’d encountered briefly in New York.

A much younger Agamemnon on his knees with a blade to his throat.

Adrastos roaring in agony as a silver-tipped whip cleaved through his flesh.

The air slid between my lips with a husky hiss. He was…a slave. Not Commander. At least not entirely. Or maybe that was the trick—shaping how I’d interpreted every interaction up to this point.

“If Moros is here,” I said slowly, “his Bond to you outweighs mine. And Magnolia’s. She shackled hers with magic. But yours—yours is dependent on proximity and orders. Spoken command.”

Adrastos lifted his chin, mouth twitching. “Always knew I liked you.”

Fuck.

That smirk was subtle, but it gutted me. This wasn’t the swaggering king I’d faced in battle, nor the reckless vigilante Magnolia had romanticized. He wasn’t even the defiant bastard I’d nearly executed months ago. My mind flashed to the image of his pleading eyes…and to August plunging the blade into Agamemnon’s chest.

“You sold yourself to save Agamemnon.”

“His…” Adrastos cleared his throat again, wincing. “Moros became heir to all that power after one of Agamemnon’s temper tantrums. But his loyalty was always to his father.”

His father. Not our father. Not my father.

So many questions. And so little time to ask them. Had Agamemnon killed the King? Was that how Moros took the throne? And if so…why? The dreams had never hinted at civil unrest—only the cruelty of a vile ruler who claimed to love his children.

“So you bartered your soul—and your obedience—to spare Agamemnon from the consequences of his actions?” I folded my arms. “Seems to be a pattern between the two of you.”