Page 127 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Mock all you want, Nix, but I’ve thought this through.” I forced myself to breathe around the frigid temperature, willing my body not to seize. “If I’m right—and I usually am⁠—”

“Glad to see the ego’s intact.”

“She’s even more dangerous than I thought.”

“Dangerous?” he scoffed, stripping off his tac gear and letting it fall beside Carr’s bench. “I think you’re confusing a threat with a gift that’s gone extinct.” One gold iris flashed as his hard stare landed on me, his mouth curled in a smirk as he shrugged out of his vest and dumped it next to his cloak and mask. “Do you realize how many folktales you’ve tried to resurrect this month alone? You’re nostalgic for a time we weren’t even alive for.”

“Maybe,” Carr cut in as I closed my eyes and tried to adjust to the cold. “But if he’s right, then the old stories are right too.”

“And if she can steal magic, that changes everything,” I added, voice steadying, though hoarse.

It tracked. The infamous Wraith—known for stealth and sleight of hand—with the ability to rob and temporarily embody a soul’s magic, tapping into their reserves with the enthusiasm of a high school sophomore at their first keg party. How dangerous she was depended on the limits of her gift. Some siphons needed only proximity. Others required touch.

She’d jumped and wielded shadows only after she bit me—no doubt getting a mouthful of blood—and even then, she only jumped short distances. Which meant physical contact was the trigger.

Slightly less threatening.

Unless she was a newborn...

In which case, she hadn’t even scratched the surface.

Did our masked intruder know? Lonan didn’t strike me as the type to chase useless relics, which meant he probably knew exactly what I’d been sent to retrieve.

“Let’s humor your delusions for a second,” Nix said, dragging me back to the present. “Say you’re right. The slippery little bitch is a siphon. What’s she gonna do first?”

“Destroy us,” Carr said grimly, glancing at his brother as he stood and began pacing the edge of the basin.

“She doesn’t have to,” I countered, catching Carr’s conflicted look. “It could be worse. She could be a reaper. Something happened last time—something personal. She’s out for blood. But if we can make it right, pay the price, maybe strike a deal…maybe there’s potential.”

“You’ve lost your mind, cousin.”

I ignored him. “With a gift like that, she could rewrite the balance of power.”

“For or against us,” Carr said, leaning back with his palms braced on the bench. My wounds were starting to tingle—my leg a wildfire of nerve endings as the magic did its work.

The Middle was the only place I’d ever felt peace. The skies above hung in perpetual gray, like a storm forever threatening but never breaking. From the sacred west garden, I could see the glowing fields stretch all the way to the castle—a sharp black smudge on the horizon.

“I think Uptown’s smoking remains make it pretty clear it’s the latter,” Nix said, pulling my eyes from the spires back to his grimace. “So what’s the plan, Cyrus? She’s made her intentions clear. She wants to break us. You gonna roll over and give her the hierarchy?”

“Our best bet is to neutralize her before she figures out what she is.”

If she’d been fully in control, that jump wouldn’t have surprised her. Neither would the way my shadows writhed on her skin.

“Sure. Obvious deduction, Sherlock.”

“Got a better one?”

“Maybe don’t repeat history. Clearly your plans have worked out great so far.”

“The plan will work. Siphon or not. We bring the Wraith in on Valentine’s Day. We’ve already seeded intel through the lower ranks—someone’ll leak it to Reyna, and to her.”

“Perfect. Trouble from two sides.”

“Nix, will you shut the fuck up for two seconds and let the man plan?” Carr snapped. “She sliced through his Achilles tonight. Legends have died for less. Let him breathe while the pool does its work. Cy, you must be in a grip of pain.”

“Cakewalk,” I muttered, sinking deeper into the copper. The burn gave way to the sharper prick of nerves waking up. “We’re living through history, Nix. Like it or not, we need to fire on all cylinders. Lonan wouldn’t be bartering if she wasn’t valuable. Now we know why.”

“You little freak. For as long as I can remember, you’ve had these illusions of grandeur bouncing around your head. But that’s your problem, isn’t it?”