Page 102 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

We lived for the tales spun in blood and shadow, but one story fascinated us most: the Brothers of Blackthorn. A tragedy, sure—but buried in it was the promise of the Obsidian Crown. Crafted centuries ago, lost in translation and time, but one truth endured: he who possessed it would become Keeper of the Veil.

And it was the promise of that title that led to our downfall.

My brain was already scrambling when Carr mercifully cut in.

“Yeah? On that note—how’s your intel on our masked intruder looking?”

When Nix's eyes hardened, I chuckled, unbuttoning my pants. “That’s what I thought.”

“Our Queen trusts him,” Nix growled—but the current beneath the words didn’t sound like confidence.

“You saying you do too?” Carr asked, scowling as he peeled off his gloves and eyed the blood lining his forearms.

“I’m saying that should be enough.”

“Because hierarchy leaders have never been bonded, forced, or coerced into compliance,” I muttered, stepping into the showers as a few of the Wings rolled up the tarp for incineration.

Our routine was surgical. We stepped into our stalls and scrubbed like hell—every trace of blood, sweat, and magic gone. Never forget your fingernails. Be meticulous with your hair. Some dumb fuck skipped that step a few years back—got convicted on residue. We didn’t let him rot, but burning an alias to fake a death is a bitch. I never skipped my hands. Nix said it was overkill with our gloves. I said fuck that. Some stains stayed with you—literally and otherwise.

“We called a meeting with The Six. Grayshell and Bellaton are both hunting this ghost. They say he’s English.”

“Then call Pinebarrow, or Carroway, or Seasmith. Not my fucking problem,” I said, shampoo dripping down my face.

“And if war breaks out?”

“That depends on the tip of the scales, doesn’t it?”

“War always tips the scales,” Carr pointed out—surprising me. “Look, brother, I know you’re pissed. I know the four of you have shit to work through—but Nix is right. We need to think.”

By “four of us,” he meant the Paladin royal family. Yeah. We fucking did. Dad knelt to Mother no matter the cost. Cali—brilliant as she was—didn’t give a shit about anything beyond her lab, despite being next in line for the throne. And my mother? Preached balance. Practiced selfishness.

“Did I just have a stroke? Nix was right about something?”

I didn’t need to open my eyes to know my sister had entered. I dunked my face under the stream, finishing the rinse, as Nix cursed and shoved his citrus body wash back onto his shelf.

“Fucking dammit, Cali. Shower. Privacy. Ever heard of it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Nix,” she shot back. “And I see being clever was a one-time thing. I’m here for my brother.”

“Great timing,” I muttered, turning off the water and catching the towel she tossed. She stared at the ceiling while the other guys scattered, heads down as the three of us wrapped towels around our waists.

“Little hypocritical, don’t you think?” Nix grumbled. “If we walked into your locker room, you’d order a lashing.”

She flipped him off, unbothered. Her gaze found mine, and a smile curved her lips. “I approve,” she said simply.

I narrowed my eyes. “Of what, exactly?”

“Your plan to ensnare the Wraith. I like it.”

A slow smile tugged at my mouth. “Good.”

“Someone wanna fill me in?” Nix snapped, sulking like a toddler.

“If you had a say, sure. But as it stands—get the fuck out,” Calypso said, jerking her thumb toward the door.

“I’m one of your Wings.”

“And you’ll do what I say. Right now, I need my second and third. You’re dismissed.”