Page 237 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Struggling to breathe, struggling to think over the roar in my ears, I glanced around. No sign of Moros. Then I spotted Marlana locking in on me, making a beeline across the space with two plates of food in her hands.

I forced a smile, even as my heart raced, pulse slamming against every inch of skin. Skin now slick with cold sweat.

Slinking into the chair across from her, I widened that smile, voice gentle as I tried, “Ally?”

She blinked, half-heartedly dragging her spoon through the dollop of cream on her soup. “Hmm?”

“Ally, look at me.”

She lifted her chin, spoon halfway to her mouth.

“Talk to me. What is this?”

“Squash, I think.” She scowled at it, quirking her head. “Rather plain, if you ask me. But I have a friend who says all English food is terrible.”

“A friend?” I pressed, desperate to find something she clung to. A name. A memory. Anything.

“I—I think he’s a friend. Marley says I’ll get my memories back soon. He’s kind—or his eyes are, I think.”

The room spun around us like I’d fallen down a drain with no hope of returning when Marlana sat beside Ally. “Dr. Briar!” she said with enough cheer even I would’ve believed her if I didn’t know better. “Thank you so much for your help. Doesn’t she look better?”

Those nearly black eyes landed on me, and I held them, jaw clenching as I fisted the fabric of my dress below the table. “Much.”

One week.

I had one week to come up with a plan. Then we were getting the fuck out of here—on our own godsdamn feet or in body bags.

It didn’t really matter if we avoided whatever Moros had planned for Alvara.

If the gods saw fit to send us into the After, I’d do whatever I could to drag this bitch into hell with me.

FORTY-SIX

SHACKLES

CYRUS

August 6th, 3:33AM

“Story?”

Mama tucked me tighter against her chest, resting her chin on my head. “Shh, little prince. It can’t touch you. Just a storm, baby…”

Freya snarled as she dove for Reagan’s throat. Mother’s kick caught her hard enough to throw her backward. She hit the ground skidding, eyes snapping to mine.

“Pathetic,” my mother sneered, turning to see who she’d looked to. Me.

If anything, her disappointment deepened.

“You think they’ll follow you?” she spat as Freya found her feet. “You think you can rule?”

“Me? No.” Freya staggered, pointing at me as her voice trembled. “But he sure as fuck can.”

“He’s male,” Mother hissed. Worthless. The spare heir no one wanted.

I felt Freya’s skin give way beneath my mother’s blow. Felt that blade slam into her side, stealing my breath where I clung to my cousin…

“I think it makes you look tough,” Mama cooed, brushing her thumb over the fresh scar across my knee that her quick healing magic didn’t touch.