Page 349 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“We have reason to believe they’re holding her somewhere in Scandinavia.”

“Really narrowed it down there, did ya’?”

“We received a report from an insider that the estate sits atop black cliffs bombarded by black-and-white birds. Then we planted a tracker on a hostage before releasing him to see where he’d go. He made several stops before the telemetry placed him in the Norwegian Sea.”

“Insider. Do explain how you got your hands on⁠—”

“It was Blythe Briar,” Freya cut in. Reyna’s eyes snapped to hers like a damn rubber band, and she shifted her weight in her chair, glancing between us for verification.

I nodded.

“How?” Reyna demanded. “Where is she?” The sudden intensity in her tone told me my sister had been right about the value of that connection.

“Alive—or at least she was a few weeks ago. Lana returned from The Middle to bring us word.”

“I fail to see how Alana could gather such information in The Middle.”

“We wondered the same thing, but there was an enchantment in Bellpost’s ruins. It opened with blood payment, and when they descended, they found a looking glass. Rudimentary. Some kind of polished stone.”

“Obsidian?” Reyna pressed, nodding stiffly, her jaw set as she turned her chair to look out the window. It was the tight hold of her tan fingers against the arms that caught my attention. “So, she’s alive.”

“Yes. And reported being kept in private quarters. She said they haven’t harmed her—physically, I mean.”

Reyna nodded tightly, successfully hiding her expression from us as I stared at her high blonde ponytail.

“Why does this concern me?” she pressed, the calculating cold returning to the blade of her voice.

“Doesn’t it?” Freya challenged. “Aren took Blythe from your care all those years ago, didn’t he?”

“She was failing to thrive.”

“We just thought you’d appreciate the update.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, still refusing to look at us. “Is that all?”

“No.”

When I let the silence fall like an executioner’s blade, she finally looked back over her shoulder. Our gazes locked, and I drew a steadying breath.

“Intel from across the pond reports fires in the rebel districts in London.”

“And?” she bit out. “I fail to see why news from a territory thousands of miles away complicit in⁠—”

“They think it’s Ally,” Freya cut in.

“Impossible,” Reyna said, but she swiveled her chair back to face us.

“Quite possible,” Cyrus said. “Historically, only the most powerful sorcerers have ever warded off a mentalist of Moros’ magnitude, and they needed full power to do it. Alvara has been subjected to torture for months.”

Reyna’s glare shifted from Cyrus to me with all the care of someone surveying a bug to be crushed. “And I suppose The Great Commander is going to ask me for blood to spill in pursuit of his mate, who has failed us all.”

“Mother,” Blaz growled at the same time Cyrus snapped, “Christ, Reyna, do you have a heart left in that cage or are you as monstrous as Reagan always said you were?”

“That’s rich,” Reyna said coldly. “The tyrant queen calling me⁠—”

“Yes, well, she’s in the fucking ground, so let’s all move the hell on,” Freya snapped.

I sucked down a breath and reminded myself that sometimes you tolerated the lesser evil to reach an outcome you could live with. Reyna might be a staunch old bitch, as Ansel said, but she was damn good at what she did. Like Freya, Bellaton excelled at scalpel-level work, while Grayshell moved like a battering ram—much like its Commander. I needed every capable hand we had.