Page 41 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Over a week ago, Cy! What are we waiting on, an engraved invitation? You said you’d handle our pest problem a week ago, and in that time⁠—”

“I know!” I snapped, cutting her off as heat throbbed in my forehead. Stepping into Calypso’s space was always a gamble. She was just as likely to raise hell as hug me, and there was no telling which I’d get until she did it. Lip curled, I braced for the former. “I fuckin’ know, Cal. Mom’s gone off the deep end. The Guard is hitting the streets with the trackers, and Dad’s gone with them. Our Wings are waiting for our command. Carr’s on point on the cybersecurity front, trying to figure out where the hell she’s coming from.”

My sister huffed a breath, but I held her glare, waiting for a fist to fly. Instead, her eyes went glossy, and she shook her head as she jerked away. Tears were reserved for death and heartbreak in Calypso’s world. The fact that she was teetering on them revealed how deeply this bitch had struck.

A relieved inhale steadied my hammering heart, but my mind was still spinning. When my sister looked back, she was uncharacteristically melancholic.

“My data, Cy.” My name came out like a broken sob. Lower lip wobbling, she pulled herself together and said, “I was so close to working out the kinks in that compound.”

The Wraith had ripped every external hard drive from their ports, and we hadn’t even seen her do it. Security cameras captured nothing but a black hoodie on a slight frame and a gas mask over her face. She destroyed the refrigerators, flipped over the lab tables—their contents now puddles of color and glass. Whatever she sought was on those drives, unless they were a misdirect for something not yet accounted for.

“Yeah,” I breathed, opening my arms as she closed the gap, burying her face against my chest. Sighing, I wrapped her up. Brilliant beyond her years, my sister was working on something crucial. Even more so given the tenuous blade our continent’s hierarchies balanced on. The compounds she’d been developing could make or break the coming war. With that in mind, I muttered, “We’ll get it back.”

She nodded against me, then stepped out of my grip with a monotone, “Okay.” When she stared up at me, big hazel doe-eyes blinking, I sighed.

“Now?!”

“Now,” she ordered firmly.

“Night, Cal.”

She said nothing, already using her magic to begin a melancholy cleanup. It was only as I reached the door that she muttered, “Skewer this bitch, Cy.”

“With pleasure,” I promised, before turning and marching from my sister’s desecrated temple.

The shadows whispered of my guest the moment my boots hit the hardwood floor of the estate. Our family didn’t sleep here—too Gothically regal for my taste—but we preserved it for sentiment, knowledge, and ceremony.

Whoever was waiting for me here was no Paladin. But their shadows greeted mine the instant I arrived, the swell of power in our walls sending goosebumps down my skin. To breach the magic around this estate, this shadowwalker was either invited at some point or immeasurably powerful. Perhaps both.

Palming a blade, I followed that pull without hesitation, sending a mental calling card to my cousin.

Carr, we have company.

Where you at?

The Manor.

Be there in two.

Make it one.

Fuck. Don’t do anything dumb.

Define dumb, I quipped before our connection was silenced, sending a shudder down my spine. I scented the air, detecting the faintest hint of forest and ash. Not a soul I recognized.

Stay alert, the damned shadows hissed in my ears a beat before a rumbling baritone filled the hallway in a leisurely drawl.

“Do keep me waiting, little Prince. I’ve all the time in the world.”

Stepping around the corner into our gathering hall, my focus snapped to the looming figure in my mother’s throne. My first thought was our thief, but this intruder was twice my width, lounging nonchalantly on the armrest, spinning a ruby-encrusted dagger between his fingers, its point balanced on his knee. The leather demon mask and the twin swords strapped to his back sent my hackles rising.

“Don’t kill the messenger,” he greeted, nonchalantly. Tempting as that was, the raw power rolling off him in waves told me he was ancient—and that I was drastically outmatched. Besides, if he intended to kill me, I’d already be dead. Or fighting like hell to stay on this side of the veil.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” I said, striding forward as if his presence didn’t have every bone in my body ready to riot.

“Doesn’t it, Princeling?”

What kind of psychopath waltzed into Paladin walls and sat in our Queen’s throne? Her mate had killed men for far less.