Page 422 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Aren?”

He slipped in behind me, snaking his arms around me so that my back was tight against his front. “That, my love, is Grayshell.”

EIGHTY-FIVE

THE KEEPER OF THE ORPHANS

BLYTHE

“Barry?” I asked the following evening, gingerly running a silver brush through my hair. Sudden movements were still not my friends.

“‘Sup, sunspot?” he asked as he oiled his blades. It seemed calming to him and to his cousins, almost a compulsive routine to soothe their nerves, but it set my teeth on edge. My stomach twisted ominously. They were preparing for a conflict nobody bothered talking about.

“Would you be willing to grab me something to eat? I’m ravenous.”

Adrastos didn’t shift from his place at his desk, but his pen stopped scratching the parchment like he knew what I was doing.

If I was going to be trapped in this room for the remainder of my time here, I might as well finish what I’d started and seal that tapestry. The only gift I had to offer the world before it came time to run.

“Anything, sunspot,” Bartholomew offered.

“Thank you,” I said, offering him a smile as he rose and rushed for the door, eager to expedite my recovery.

“I could use the rest of my clothes,” I added, trying to buy time.

Adrastos muttered, “I’ll take you.”

Dammit.

Bartholomew’s eyes widened incrementally, intrigue painting his features as he looked between us.

I wanted to argue.

Tell him I’d much rather go with Barry. Maybe add in that I’d rather dip my back in salt again than be alone with him for another fucking moment, dependent on his help for literally everything.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch. He’d been… quiet, mostly, though his last warning played in my head on a loop; When the time comes—when August comes for what’s his—you run.

His demand robbed the air from my lungs, my voice thin as chiffon. “What?”

“I cannot save you, Briar.” Adrastos swallowed audibly, running both hands through his hair, which was in desperate need of a shower. “When vengeance arrives at our doorstep, you run to the cliffs, where the shadows will be in wait. Find Freya Porter’s mate—a man called Cyrus, my height, long blond hair, and tell him you are my price for The Wraith’s debt. When the time comes, Blythe, run like hell.”

He’d made me promise him I’d run to August or to Cyrus, to one of the men he seemed to trust to get me the hell out of here. And for the first time, I found myself wondering…

Well. Too many things to wrap my head around.

“I don’t want to… I’d rather not leave the room, if you don’t mind grabbing them?”

Recognition glinted in his eyes, but he just dipped his chin.

“Thank you,” I breathed. He held my gaze for a heartbeat too long before setting aside his pen and closing the journal with a soft thud. Without another word, he stood and made for the door.

“Thank you,” I repeated as he slipped into the hallway without glancing back.

“Smith’s just outside,” Barry said as he followed in his wake.

I practically sprinted to the door, pressing my ear to it, magic probing and finding only Smith beyond. Knowing my window was narrow, I snatched the ruby and rushed for the bookcase.

“Where are you going, sunshine?”