Page 126 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“That I can understand,” she said slowly. “But think. The last thing we need—what Grayshell or Bellaton need—is to give Reagan more reason to turn the Shadows or The Six against us. Aren’s peace is tenuous at best. So long as that bitch wears the crown, we’re suspended in the space between alliance and war.”

“Which is why she must fall—to a successor.”

“Her death will martyr her. You think Calypso will be more likely to ally if you murder her mother in cold blood?”

“Maybe if she’s exposed. If the Paladins see her betrayal.”

“They won’t care what she did to you, Freya.”

“No,” I agreed. “But they’ll care if I try her under Paladin law. If she killed one of their own without a trial, they’ll condemn her themselves.”

That was the moment Reyna entered, pushing through the study’s double doors. All three of us turned to her as she stepped inside, tension slicing through the air like a guillotine. Lainalei and Blaz followed, silent sentinels at her back.

“What you’re proposing is suicide,” Reyna said, her flyer’s eyes wide even as she moved with that same eerie grace, gliding to her desk like the news had knocked the air out of her.

“Not if you know how to survive the trials,” I said evenly, watching her brace herself on the edge of the desk as though the force of my intentions might knock her over.

It had been decades, but I remembered The Crucible like I remembered the battle that bought my family’s freedom. And all this chaos I’d sown in Reagan’s kingdom? That had been strategy—every last piece of it, a carefully deployed illusion.

“Nobody survives The Crucible,” Lainalei breathed, following Reyna like a too-pretty sentinel, red braid trailing down her back.

“Bullshit,” I muttered—just as Lana barked the same.

Ansel shook his head. “That’s categorically untrue.”

“Okay,” Lainalei amended, “So few survive we haven’t heard a name in centuries.”

“There was one,” Reyna murmured, eyes never leaving mine. “A few decades ago. She didn’t last long after, though.”

“She didn’t have the gift I do now,” I said, swallowing the smile threatening to rise.

“Humility?” Lainalei shot back.

If my brain hadn’t been too busy sorting what to share and what to bury, I might’ve paused to appreciate her sarcasm. The only universal language.

Ignoring her, I met Ansel’s eyes—and watched them shift with dawning understanding.

“Both times you bit him, you were able to jump after,” he deduced. When I nodded, he shook his head—not in reprimand, but in wonder. “If we can get you to the Middle, you’ll be a threat like none other.”

At last, I let the grin come. Because if I could ascend, I could execute Reagan for her treason. And I could challenge Calypso—the lab rat—myself. The board was set. The players were moving.

“Is someone gonna fill me in?” Blaz asked, his eyes locked on mine, swirling with something that hovered between hurt and panic.

On a sigh thick with pain, Reyna announced, “We’re in the presence of a long-lost legend.”

TWENTY-SIX

USURPERS

CYRUS

Every nerve ending screamed as I lowered into the copper basin on shaking limbs. Fully submerged in ice and gelatinous healing salve, I sucked a breath through clenched teeth. Still panting, I looked up at Carr, perched on a marble bench built into the ceremonial site.

“She’s a siphon,” I gritted out.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Carr who answered.

Nix barked an incredulous laugh. “Right. And I’m the fucking King of Avalon.”