Page 453 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“—doing in here? What’s happening?”

“—the enchantment took us to our rooms and Cora never sealed her door.” He blinked, blurting, “What do you mean, what’s happening? The war has come to us,” right as I said, “What? You left them open?!”

“Wait,” Fletcher said, righting himself and blinking beneath the torchlight. “Of course we did—we didn’t have a ruby.”

“You brought mine back.”

“Duh.”

“What do you mean, duh?”

“Well, it’s you he’s after—the king. You needed it more than us.”

“What do you mean it’s me he’s—you know what, never mind. We have to get the fuck out of here.” As if for emphasis, the entire passageway shook, a guttural humming sound filling the air as dust rained down. Fletcher was on his feet before I’d even managed to sit upright, already reaching for me.

And I saw it then—in those pleading eyes, that desperate face, his hand outstretched—he was what Adrastos should’ve been. Might’ve been once. I grabbed his hand, grunting with effort as he hauled me to my feet, my ribs screaming.

“Wait,” he blurted, brows pinching as he looked around, down all three passageways he’d been running toward. “Where’s Cora?”

“Cora?” I squeaked, trying to tug him forward. But the kid was rooted to the spot—his gangly six-foot frame already stronger than mine as he anchored me in place.

“She didn’t make it,” he breathed in evident horror.

“Make it where?”

“To find you! Cáit said you’d help.”

“Help?”

His brow furrowed, the first flicker of fear crossing his features—halfway between boy and man. He looked even more like his cousin now that he was scowling. “Get us out?” My stomach sank as his words hit the center of my chest. “She said Barry said you’re one of the good ones, and you’d get us out. Away from here—from this—before our magic wakes.”

“Godsdammit,” I breathed, eyes jamming closed as I blew out a harsh exhale. Because once their magic woke, they were Moros’ subjects. His to command. Not that I could expect Grayshell to harbor a teenager—boys Fletcher’s age had killed kings and fought in wars. Where exactly was I supposed to be taking him?

The image of his bloodied back slammed through me—the look he’d given me, willing me into silence, not unlike the horrified expression he wore now. He’d stayed silent. He’d lied to his king to protect me. Because Adrastos asked him to. “Fuck.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“Sorry.”

“So?”

I sucked down a steadying breath, shoving the loose strands of frizzy hair away from my face. “Where was she going, Fletch?”

“Your room, I think. That or the healer’s wing but the healer’s wing is gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“The storm took it.”

I gaped at the fifteen-year-old who was looking at me like I’d sprouted a second head.

“What?” I bit out as the walls quaked. Maybe August really would bring this place down. “Are you telling me we have to go back?”

“Well, she’s not here, is she?!”

Fuck. Me.

August