Page 112 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I’d barely reached the stairs to the sea gate when Moros’ hound, Bran, rounded the corner—his furry ears nearly level with my ribs as he nudged me expectantly. I knelt, bowing my forehead to his before offering him the bit of meat I’d palmed from the table. “Fáilte, dark one.”

“So, this is why my sister became a supper table thief.”

I fought back my grimace, rubbing Bran’s fuzzy ear before lifting my eyes to my brother’s and feigning a certainty I didn’t feel. Our parents bore not one but two sets of royal twins. While the eldest, Moros and Marlana, took after our father, Adrastos and I were mirror images of our mother. Both of us inherited her raven-black hair, the bow of her full lips, the slant of her cheekbones—the dark balance to our siblings’ light. Most notably, we were the only two of the nine with yellow in our skin. It was only our eyes that set us apart—well, and that I was a lowly female, of course.

“It’s no business of yours,” I said with a huff. “Can I not walk in peace?”

“And is that what awaits Fionn? Peace?” Adrastos asked skeptically, arms crossed as he leaned against the timber wall. I hadn’t even heard him approach. Fionn was on sea watch tonight, and my silence evidently gave me away because my brother shook his head. “If I’d known your intention was to attack our own soldiers, I wouldn’t have taught you anything.”

“I wasn’t going to attack Fionn.” Just… stun him.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

“And I am to do what—blissfully fall into the arms of a captor? I refuse to be bartered like a bargaining chip, with our mother’s fate holding me hostage. I’ll sooner die than be her. We may be children of two worlds in blood, but I’m a daughter of one.”

Of all my siblings, Adrastos was the only one to whom I could confide these truths. The only brother willing to entertain the idea that I was worth more than a bridge between peoples—worth more than falling to the same wretched fate as our mother.

“I cannot bear the idea that this foolishness will cost me my most beloved sister. That he will cost me you.”

“Then help us ensure it does not.”

White walls—pain, so much pain—metal biting into my wrists, forehead, and ankles.

Mud soaked the hem of my dress by the time the trees concealed me, my steps following a path long ago memorized until I stopped just shy of the gurgling creek. The rites had once been held here.

It was there I waited until the snap of a stick had me turning—intentional, that sound. He always took care not to startle me.

A wry smile split his rugged features as those broad hands pulled his cloak back, a spear of moonlight illuminating emerald eyes.

My spine arched, limbs thrashing against the agony coursing through me—the sharp bite of electricity seizing my muscles as my scream caught in my ragged throat.

“Elizabeth,” he breathed, moving for me. His calloused palms swallowed my face, cradling me in his hands like something precious—until his eyes turned cruel. “Useless, foolish girl.”

And just like that, the boy who’d stolen my heart twisted those strong hands.

A deafening crack.

And blackness.

A scream shredded through my chest, tearing the flesh from my throat as I thrashed against my restraints. Wrists. Ankles. Neck. Head. All pinned to the metal chair beneath me.

Blood seeped down my battered wrists as I screamed and screamed and screamed, waves of electricity tearing through me.

By the time it ceased, my legs were wet and hot with urine. Limbs shaking. Head spinning. Breath a ragged inferno in my chest as I gasped down air that reeked of singed flesh.

“He was always going to betray you,” came an English drawl. A voice I knew. And did not. Rough and terrible at the edges. “Will always betray you.”

No. No, that was not how the memory went. That was… incorrect, somehow. But I couldn’t remember…

Couldn’t remember the ending.

“You should have listened to Adrastos, little one. Oh, how he wept for you.” A taunt. A cruel blade in a faceless voice. “Do you think, if I break you here in this chair, he’ll weep again?” Hot breath tickled over my ear. “Oh, I certainly hope so.”

A hum.

Unending agony.

Blackness.