Page 107 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“I don’t know—it’s a dragon.” We hit the ground hard beside the bags, both of us snatching ours up.

Thud-thud. “First hierarchy?”

“Probably.” But we were too slow.

A great shudder trembled through the earth, vibrating through my bones. Little Magnolia vanished. I searched the depthless, inky night as every muscle froze. Looked up—and up and up—until I met gold dragon eyes.

“Come to play, little cockroach? I’ve been expecting you.”

“You said it isn’t real!” Portia barked, even as we both threw up shields. The wall of fire that slammed into them argued Balorath’s legitimacy for me.

“Too slow, half-breed,” he rumbled, the sound drilling into my marrow. The black flames relented long enough for Portia to seize her sword, but Balorath had no interest in the Paladin. “Sssmell your fear, child of death. Alone but not. Here with neither mate nor renegade.” An enormous exhale blew my hair off my shoulders as his massive belly settled into the sand, his head lowering to observe us. We froze. My gaze locked on the mammoth creature before us, unable to glance aside to see whether Portia was gaping too. “Demon blood runs in your veins, cunning little water witch—we are the sssame, you and I.”

“Stay back!” Portia barked, brandishing her blade, even as I snatched her arm, yanking her behind me.

Goosebumps rippled down my skin as he rose to his full height, stomping one massive foot forward. “You brought me a bug.” Stomp. “To be crussshed.”

My shadows hissed their displeasure, and for the first time in my life, I cursed Death for his absence.

Portia ran.

“No!” I barked, but I was too late. Balorath’s gold eyes lazily tracked her sprint, vertical pupils dilating as she bolted back the way we came.

“Cowards die firssst,” Balorath rumbled, lunging forward and opening his maw to reveal teeth half as long as I was tall. In one brutal snap—too fast for even a scream—Portia was gone. The beast rocketed upward, the force of his ascent knocking me to the ground as sand billowed in a cloud.

My hand flew to cover my mouth as a sob cracked out of me.

I watched him fly into the inky depths of night.

And I was alone.

NINETEEN

FUCK ME, I GUESS

AUGUST

Four months, one week, two days, twelve hours since they took my wife…

“What in the hell is she playing at?” I demanded as Kade and I patrolled the streets behind his fleet of walking corpses. Freya—the Wraith—was famous for her cunning, but this felt outlandish even for her.

“Perhaps she’s sick of being snubbed? Her mate’s still freezing her out, is he not?”

“So, she offers herself as a prize?”

“It’s as Cadoc said, I fear. She’s playing the game, August. A game you unfortunately need to master.”

I scrubbed a palm over my jaw. “I assume these marriage alliances are magically binding?”

“Yes,” he said, flicking his fingers toward an intersection without breaking stride. A swirling wall of green mist crept down the street.

“So, she can’t be planning to get out of it.”

“It would be ill-advised and likely expensive.”

“I have money.”

“As do we all,” he scoffed. “Currency differs between souls, but you know that better than most.”