Page 338 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Okay. We have a game plan. Let me know as soon as they fish that son of a bitch out of the sea.”

“You got it,” I promised.

“Thank you. Okay. Lana said she gave you a journal to decipher.”

“Yeah,” I said, and this grin wasn’t feigned. The enchantments on that thing were fucking immaculate. “It’s a goddamn masterpiece. One guess whose story it holds.”

“Please tell me Rhiannon or this is a terrible game.”

Freya snorted, but I nodded, even as the distant clamor of voices told me the meeting agenda was about to get brand-new fucking bullet points. “It’s a weird conglomeration of the old languages, but I’m working through the translation.”

“Good. Get through it. We need to glean whatever we can from her.”

“You got it.”

We were both turning toward the doors when Carr burst through them already talking. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, gentlemen, but I have a report from our allies in London.”

“Rude,” Cali muttered, but Carr didn’t bother flipping her off when she did. His eyes were on me… and August.

“Fires in the rebel districts.”

“Okay,” I said, scowling at him in a silent demand for clarification.

“Not… not from the bombs, Cy. There are reports of an unmatched pyro in the heart of the district. Female. Tall. At least six feet. Dark brown hair, green eyes, prayin’ to the ground.”

“What are you saying?” August ground out, his knuckles bleached where they strained against his skin.

“I’m saying a woman who slowed down to read the earth was seen burning rebel districts to ash.”

An unnatural silence settled over us. Freya slowly lowered herself into the chair beside her brother.

August wet his lips before they thinned into a tight line.

Lana’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you insinuating they’ve somehow turned Alvara, the second of Grayshell?”

“I’m telling you an unnatural fire just killed hundreds of our people. Columns of fire. Waves of it. Not a bomb—an element wielded strategically. Massive destruction. City blocks gone in moments.”

A muscle feathered in Carr’s jaw. His nostrils flared as his hand found his blade, tracing the hilt as though steadying himself.

“Funny, that didn’t sound like a no.”

“Ally would never,” August insisted.

“There are plenty of pyros,” Lana pointed out.

“That press a palm to the ground before they act?” Freya countered, her freckled cheeks going deathly pale. This didn’t sound good. The mentalist had spent six months digging his claws into Alvara. People had become puppets in far less time.

“She would die before she betrayed our people,” August insisted.

Carr nodded. “Well. As your friend, I’m telling you to brace yourself. Best case, your optics are shit.”

SIXTY-SEVEN

COMPANY

AREN

“Okay, we’re officially lost,” Jason decided as we summited yet another mountain peak.