Page 280 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

You also love my jackass cousin.

Hey.

Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll show you a liar.

Drink some coffee.

Gladly. Get him out of my house.

“Did you piss in his Cheerios or something?” I asked from the side of my mouth, earning a snicker from Atreus.

“Very touchy thing, your guard dog.”

I glanced sidelong at him, eyes narrowing. “And a damn good man,” I chirped.

“That remains to be seen.”

“Okay. I’m up. Where’s the aforementioned good faith?”

“On the porch, but I’d prefer you get dressed first.”

“Excuse me?” I bit out.

“While I aim for unaffected, I fear I can see far too much of you to maintain my focus, much less Viktor’s.”

I perked up, spine straightening. The fate weaver was at Luminark? Excellent. “Viktor’s here?”

“Yes, and as we are no longer permitted to flirt our way into your chambers, I must again request more modest clothing.”

“One—you’re a grown man. You’ll manage.”

“False, but I appreciate your confidence in my fortitude. Unfortunately, I am but a twenty-five-year-old bag of testosterone. I’m a rake, chaos, not a saint.”

I glared down at my sports bra and booty shorts, then scowled up at him.

“Two—there’s nothing wrong with my clothes.”

“Hard agree.”

“Three—I’ve enjoyed being the object of your affections, so what do you mean you’re no longer able to flirt?”

He deadpanned, flicked those jade eyes toward the bedroom door with enough understanding to make me flush, then back to my face before smirking. “Please. Why do you think I’m here without Cadoc?”

Right. Nodding, lost for words for what was likely the first time in my life, I backed toward the door. “Give me five.”

“You’ve got two and then I’m drinking your coffee.”

“You would never.”

He grinned. “I’m bold, not suicidal. Hurry, Commander.”

We took our coffee from the terrace to the pool house for my best chance at privacy. Orion was, of course, outside watching the door because he ‘served the Stuarts, not the crown.’ I was going to throttle Cyrus when he woke up.

Logistics, losses, gains, intel—like good little rulers, we traded the morning debriefs before Viktor said, “So. You’re hunting for a fate weaver. I owe you my life. I think it’s safe to say I can meddle as needed.”

“We’re even,” I scoffed, shaking my head as my mind cataloged his features. Like Kade, something about Viktor tugged at the loose threads of my memory, threatening to unravel them in search of the string he matched.

“Regardless. Why summon one at all? Dangerous business, manipulating fate.”