Page 123 of Commanding Flame and Shield
“If you so much as threaten her, I’ll cut your balls off myself. Do you understand me?”
Another snarl was the only response. Another flap of leather, and warm breeze over my damp skin. There was the gentle flicker of flame nearby, a brazier perhaps. And I felt no draft except for the one at my back. So...only one exit until my flames returned. Could I feign unconsciousness long enough to gain the strength I needed? Unlikely.
So, the growly one must have been Agamemnon. As if in response, the reek of carrion and pine filled my nose. How was one scent still so human, while the other had succumbed to the demons within?
There was a tug on my arm, an ache there, like the skin was tighter than it should have been. Healing a slice perhaps. I tried to scent the room further without breathing too deeply, tried to strain my senses for anything to give me an advantage. A quick mental count told me my weapons were indeed missing from where I’d left them. A sliver of cold pressed between my breasts told me they had seized all but one. Not that a dirk would do me much good against an enemy like this, especially without elements behind it. The murmur and distant bellows of laughter said enough. Baying of beasts and scrape of steel. A war camp? But…where? The constant hum and chirp of birds and clicking of insects confirmed my suspicion that I was somewhere in the south.
“So?” Agamemnon demanded.
“Reinforcing the wards. They’re actuallyscryingfor her.” A dark chuckle. “Interesting. We don’t have much time.”
“Wake the bitch up.”
“Watch your tongue. You’re no better than they were.”
“We need to see if it worked.”
“I still think you should have waited.”
“You’ll shut your fucking mouth if I’m right.”
“Our chances of getting her to ally go down tenfold.”
“So what?”
“You’re hasty, and near sighted.”
“You’re blind and fooling yourself.”
“Perhaps. But that’s not for you to say.”
“Right. Let the bitch make her own decisions.” There was a scuffle and then the sound of flesh on flesh. A growl. And then Agamemnon snarled, “You’ll damn us all by the end of this.”
“You didn’t see it. Sense it. You didn’t see her flare when I went in to fight him—didn’t see the way she gave up everything to save him. We wield both, or none. Kill one, kill both. She is who and what I believe she is. Now get out.”
“Draz-”
“Get out.”
Agamemnon harrumphed, but his angry, bitter, rotting presence left the small space on silent feet. The flap of the tent was the only indication he had, in fact, heeded the order. A moment passed. Another. There was a creek of wood, a sip of liquid and the thud of a glass on a table. A long, dramatic sigh.
“So. Are you going to open your eyes, or keep pacing your breath until we’re all dead?”
I flicked my eyes open, making sure to glare as I did so. But before me was only the smooth leather surface of the war tent, and several stacks of leather-bound books bearing Latin titles. I braced myself, and sat up smoothly, summoning Alec’s swagger, and Fae's easy grace. With a roll of my neck and crack of my fingers, I turned to face the man we’d been hunting for these long weeks. Noted the brazier two feet to my side, and the weapons propped against a bag by the tent flaps behind him. My face obediently sculpted into a cool, calm, serene mask of boredom as my eyes scoured over the man in front of me. It took all my restraint to keep my breathing even. Aside from August, the broad shouldered being across the room was the most handsome male I’d ever laid eyes on.
Like his brother, Adrastos’ chiseled face was curtained by onyx sheets of shoulder length hair. That’s where the comparisons halted, however. Where most of the Renown were pale to the point of a corpse-like grey, his skin retained a kiss of sun. More than mine, certainly. He grinned broadly as I studied him, balancing precariously on the back two legs of the wood chair he sat in, his feet propped atop an ancient wood desk, fingers laced behind his head. The picture of arrogant leisure. If I’d had my strength, a flick of a finger would have had that chair out from under him and the man on his back. That would wipe that smirk off his face.
He grinned, and seemed to think as much, jerking his feet off the table, and planting all his chair legs back on the ground.
“Nice of you to join me.” He snapped his fingers, and two gold plates and goblets appeared on the desk. He snapped again and they all filled with steaming food, and drink. Nice trick. This soul had to be nearly as powerful as Aren. Nearly, I assured myself. The smell of garlic and herbs made my mouth water. How long had I been out to be so hungry? “Eat, Princess.”
I snorted and scowled at him.
“Are you, or are you not, adaughter of the King? I do believe that’s the title you assumed to vanquish the demon in Senator Martin Jones earlier this very night. And I suppose, though the fool would never claim the title of King, being the second to Aren of Grayshell makes you hierarchy-royalty too.”
I loathed the sound of Aren's name on his tongue. But there was no strength to summon. No bravado could cover the fact that I had no way to vanquish the demon in front of me. Only, Adrastos didn’t feel like a demon. Didn’t reek of death, and sin, and anger, as his brother did. And his eyes…
I held that gaze, unwavering, determined not to be the first one to blink. Adrastos smiled, the expression a bit crooked, and unsettlingly…human. He blinked first, and sighed again, just as theatrical as before, and stood. He moved as quickly as Alec could, nothing human in the way he was suddenly sitting by my side.
