Page 262 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

A sentence? Was Adrastos indentured?

I shook my head. Nonsense. A naïve girl grasping for an explanation that made the ultimate betrayal easier to swallow.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was Adrastos’ life force funneling into Moros as the king bled into the carpet.

What mattered was the familiar tingle of my sister’s elusive magic trickling across their Bond.

Into Adrastos and out just as quickly.

It picked up speed, funneling across one braid and into another.

I scanned the room for an axe, a blade—anything that could end Moros fast enough to keep the magic from saving him. My gifts wrapped around his heart, but when I squeezed, Adrastos sucked down an agonized gasp and Magnolia’s magic ran faster.

“Fuck me.”

Healing him was the only option. At least until I learned how to sever Mags from these bastards.

Alvara kept rambling as I launched myself over Moros, my hands blazing white while my magic probed, deciding what to prioritize and what could wait.

“Healers,” I panted to Barry, who nodded urgently. “All of them.”

The doors slammed open, and a very naked, very bloodied Marlana burst inside, looking murderous.

“Move,” she snarled, dropping to her knees beside the king as a guard hurried to drape a robe over her bare shoulders. “Gods.” Marlana’s eyes swept frantically over her brother. A faint glow gathered around her fingers—some kernel of healing magic—but the Lichtenberg figures across her skin said she’d narrowly escaped The Great Commander herself and had almost nothing left to give.

Human. For one lingering moment, while my magic decided his lung came first, she looked human. Vulnerable. Terrified of losing someone who mattered to her. For a heartbeat, it was easy to forget that monsters knelt before me.

But Moros had drained Adrastos so quickly that Magnolia was in danger.

And over my dead body would they drain my sister.

Magic working, I locked eyes with Bartholomew. “Slice your palm.” He didn’t hesitate, dropping beside his cousins. But it was Adrastos Barry watched—Adrastos whose hand he seized, dragging a blade across it before slamming their wounds together. His offering was for the man who raised him.

I held Barry’s gaze and studied the pain there. The terror echoing my own. The kind that came only from losing someone you loved—someone you’d carve out your own heart to protect. Bartholomew Hadriana loved Adrastos Balaskas the way I loved Mags.

Barry grimaced as his blood—his magic—rushed into his cousin. My gaze snapped to the ropes, relief cutting through me when the flow from the other braid slowed beneath Bartholomew’s willing sacrifice.

“Do the same,” I barked at Marlana, not caring that she looked ready to topple. As far as I could tell, she and Adrastos shared no life-threatening bonds.

She could dive straight into the after for all I cared.

To her credit, the witch didn’t hesitate, slicing her palm open with her teeth before seizing one of Moros’ blades and doing the same to his palm.

The healers arrived, rushing to my aid.

Hands glowed on every side of the king. Bone by bone, the group of us pieced him back together.

All the while, Ally sang in that ghostly tone. “A book, a crown, a raven cries. The queen comes calling, calling, calling.”

FIFTY-TWO

THE LIBRARY

MAGNOLIA

“I’m okay,” I promised, though the room spun around us. Aren wasn’t having it. Like sun over the coastline, his heat seeped into my skin, caressing my edges in a soothing pattern.

A breath later, a great cat bounded into the room, eyes wide. In the next blink, a very naked Jason stood in front of us. Apparently, the shifter had no qualms about Rhiannon’s curse—he snatched a wool blanket from a long wooden bench, fastened it around his waist, and closed the distance.