Page 331 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

An echo of grief slammed through my chest, my throat thickening as the bridge of my nose burned. I gritted my teeth, sucking down a too-short breath as the little blonde slipped past Cyrus on cat-light feet.

“Lana,” I exhaled, somehow relieved to see her and loathing what it meant. My eyes flicked over her head, scanning for Aren and Mags but coming up empty.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about the disappointment in my chest. Illogical. Freya had debriefed me, and their absence meant they were still fighting to reach Grayshell. Unless…

“Aren and Mags?” I asked as she stalked up beside Freya.

“Fine,” she bit out. “Or at least they were a few weeks ago.”

Leaning on my cane, I reached out an arm, smirking when she rolled her eyes. She accepted anyway, closing the distance and even wrapping her arms around my back as I crushed her to my chest. “It’s good to see you.”

“Can’t say the same thing. I hear you’re being a little bitch.”

My eyes flicked to Freya, who shrugged, but I didn’t miss the slant to her mouth. The same one she wore when she brazenly lied to our mother to get me in trouble as kids. The little shit had been raising hell since she could toddle.

Shaking my head, I said, “Felt like taking a spa day.”

“I knew it,” Lana said dryly, wriggling out of my hold. “We have news. Why are you here?”

I looked to Cyrus in the doorway and asked, “The General—any progress?”

“He’s got nothin’,” Cyrus said, pushing off the doorframe and motioning us inside. “He obviously has a location, but there’s either not a name for it, or he’s more afraid of Moros than he is of jacking off between stubs for the rest of his miserable life.”

Grimacing at that visual, I extended an arm, pulling Cyrus into a hug he hesitantly returned. Poor kid never seemed to know what to do with Grayshell’s brand of family.

Slapping him on the back, I put an arm’s length between us, gripping his shoulder as I dipped my chin. “I heard about Portia. She was a damn good woman, and I am so fucking sorry.”

“She was a menace,” he said, voice constricted. “And she died defending the balance. She wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I nodded tightly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to knowing someone died because of my order—my strategy—and wished, in painful irony, that I could talk to Aren. “Still. I’m sorry for your sacrifice.” When Cyrus nodded, lips thinned, I jerked my head toward the foyer. His relief was palpable as he shifted out of my way, and I leaned on the damn cane to follow Freya inside. Aiming for safer territory, I asked, “Is Cali home?”

“She’s at the lab. Why?”

“I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Freya grinned, all mischief and malice. “Those are my favorite.”

Alvara

“Well met, Elly!” Marley grinned as I stepped off the scale—evidently deeming the weight gain acceptable. “Today, we begin,” she chirped, her lithe body slinking toward the armoire across the room. I watched with interest as the princess of Bellpost opened the double doors, canting my head to see what she sought.

“Why train?” I pressed. Somehow, a spark lit in Moros and Marlana’s eyes every time the concept was discussed—an unnamed excitement at the idea of putting a blade in my hand. Moros’ enthusiasm sent a chill down my spine, something innately wrong about the way the man smiled. Marley wasn’t so bad. She seemed… invested in the outcome, but it didn’t set alarm bells ringing the way her brother’s interest did.

“We’re at war,” she said with all the care of someone announcing the weather. “And you, dear sister, have been formidable in every life—they called you the Angel of Death in your last incarnation.”

Angel of Death.

Something in that rang true, but I couldn’t place it—how I’d earned the title or who had bestowed it. She kept promising those old memories would return, but I’d yet to unearth them.

I had, however, remembered the fragility and passion of the mortals. Something I couldn’t quite reconcile. “Why are you fighting the humans? I don’t understand.”

“We are fighting the humans for supremacy due to their own failures. They crumbled, El. Their sickness knows no bounds, their cruelty and corruption no limits. We’re here to right the balance of the world, and unfortunately, sometimes change requires violence.”

Nodding, I noted, “It feels personal.”

“It is,” she whispered, pulling out pocket-covered pants and a black shirt before turning to me, her expression tight. “We’ve been pushing back against them for centuries, El.”

“Why?” I prodded, though the tight lines around her mouth told me I might not like the answer.