Page 117 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Alvara folded in on herself on her chair, burying her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees.
Having been the one to free Jones, she would be the one to manipulate his mind. She’d already planted the tale he’d spin to officials about the ballroom she’d left in ruins. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d had the restraint to leave the building standing at all.
Slowly, that telltale smirk stretched across Aren’s face, and he lifted his shoulders before reaching for Alvara. She scowled at him. Or at whatever he spoke between their minds.
“I didn’t say it was my fault. But so many of their motivations are just…like my own.”
“You want them to free themselves from their weakness, even if that takes a little tough love. They want to lord over them like Gods. It’s not the same thing.” Ally’s eyes flickered in response, and she rubbed at them again. Aren continued, “You know, I’ve been fighting these bastards for nearly fifteen hundred years. You would think they’d be more creative than world domination by now.”
Alec snorted and ran his hands through his light hair for what was probably the dozenth time. “At least our opponents are predictable.”
“In motive, perhaps. Just not in their plans,” Lana countered. She too had leaned forward to fold in on herself. It seemed most of us were most daunted by the sheer numbers opposing us. We would need help. Lots of it.
The Renown, while rare to spot, were not rare in numbers, as I’d been led to believe. Aren and Ansel had waged such a war on the grey demons that many believed their numbers to be dwindling. But it seemed they had kept many of their kind hidden away for such a time as this. Brutal, muscled, and primarily male, their army appeared to be at least twice the size of Grayshell. We had no way to get an accurate count, short of drawing them out, which posed more risks than Alvara or Aren cared to accept just yet. And even if they were, wouldn’t ensure they would release the full might of their host upon us.
Alec tossed his apple up in the air and watched as it spun before palming it again. Again. Again. Finally, he leaned back in his chair.
“So. We draw out Adrastos or Agamemnon?”
“They’re not the head of the serpent,” Aren countered. Ansel, sitting across from the Commander, rubbed at his dark stubble. Those silver eyes glinted with the challenge approaching. But his lips remained sealed. “Killing them, would likely only anger whoever holds the leash.”
“But it would draw him out, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” The Commander shrugged. “Our best bet is getting Ally’s hands on one of them, so we can get the scope of this mess. Keeping August in the clear until we know what’s going on.”
“And what, exactly, would that entail?” I shifted in my seat, glancing between Alvara and Aren, who exchanged wary, anxious looks.
“August, you’re not even fully trained. We haven’t been able to trigger you to remember what you are—to remember how to become The Commander. It will make the most sense if we keep you in Grayshell.” My blood ran cold as Aren raised his palms as if to tell me not to make this difficult.
“Like Hell am I sitting this out, with any of you down here fighting.”
“You have a choice, August,” Alvara’s eyes were sparkling with an intensity that nearly took the wind out of me. “You’re not our subject.”
“Then you have it. I’m not standing down.”
Aren, leaning against the wall by Marcus, went to open his mouth.
Alvara spoke first, straightening her spine. “August just held steady and anchored me here. He is the key in the war coming. It’s his right to decide for himself.” She looked to her sire, who closed his mouth, lips quirking at the corners just a bit as he surveyed her. He narrowed his pale eyes, and then with a sigh, gave her one nod.
“I trust you both.”
“So, we all fight, then.” Lana tossed her white hair over her shoulder. “We’re going to need every sword we’ve got.”
“And then some,” Ansel grumbled, running his scarred hands over his hair.
“Allies shouldn’t be too hard to come up with. I have a few life debts that might need calling in.” Aren rolled his neck, that grizzly grin on his face as he popped his knuckles.
“We are, of course, at your service.” Marcus and Aren clasped forearms before pulling into a hug. Jason and Damien both bowed their heads.
“As we are at yours, brother. Always.”
“Who else?” Ansel stood. “Who else have we got? I respect Marcus, but his coven is small. We’re going to need twice what we have to even stand a fools hope againstthat.” The image Alvara had implanted in our minds flashed in his. Of the thousands of Renown, clad in terrifying black metal armor, bearing a wide assortment of wicked looking weapons. “As Grayshell is the largest hierarchy in Middle Realm, who else can we call on? Furthermore, who will answer?”
Fae stood up as well, only rising to Ansel’s shoulder. “Nathara, perhaps?”
Ally snorted. At the same time, Aren shook his head, and ran his tongue over his teeth. “They have numbers, but they’re no soldiers.”
“Unless you need an exorbitant number of healers, or have a need for rune readers and crystals, they’re no help to our kind.” It was the first time I’d seen Alvara sneer about souls. I tucked away that kernel of information to inquire about later.
