Page 146 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“I’m planning a theme for our date,” he said at rapid-fire speed—same as everything else lately, like he thought he could cram more into the time we had left. “There’s this place in Manhattan with the best manicotti in the country⁠—”

“Why not just go get the real deal?” Alec, nosy as ever, appeared beside him, arms crossed, watching the ring. “Ooh, or a good Cornish pasty,” he said, giving his fingers a chef’s kiss. “Can’t beat the real thing. Kinda like chowder. Either get to the coast or don’t bother. Am I right?”

“Can you two think with anything besides your stomachs?” Fae demanded, coaxing pink flowers to bloom along the banister with her outstretched hands while she observed the chaos below. Like Grayshell, Terramyst’s training style was either structured matches or all-out chaos. Today was the latter.

“Occasionally,” Alec said with a grin, “I like to think with my dick.”

“Jesus, Alec,” I muttered, eyes closing as I huffed a reluctant laugh. Ansel would have a coronary.

“As evidenced by your mate’s current state,” August added smoothly.

Fae elbowed him. “I expect absurd remarks from Bozo over there—but you?” She pouted, dragging her voice into a baby lilt. “My sweet wil’ rookie?”

The vines near her swayed toward her like they’d finally found their sun in a world without one. Smiling, Fae extended a finger, and I swear one of the blooms nuzzled it. As flames bent and curled to me, plants had always loved Aphaea.

“Oh come on, babe,” Alec teased, his grin stretching wider. “You walked right into that one.”

“Just because someone sets the ball doesn’t mean you have to spike it.”

“I prefer a gentle fondle.”

August snorted. Fae rolled her bright blue eyes and turned to me, leaning her back against the railing, silently begging me to help her.

They might’ve been idiots, but they were our idiots. And I had a feeling Alec was being extra ridiculous to offset the anxiety radiating off August and me. He could play the fool all he wanted, but the man was sensitive as hell and always keyed into the people around him. I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth of it. Besides, I’d missed their babble. Desperately.

So, I pulled in a breath, forced a smile, and shrugged.

Fae huffed but continued. “My idiot mate is right, though—why not get the real thing? There’s this pub in Wales with the most divine Shepherd’s pie⁠—”

Her words cut off as a vision slammed into me.

Adrastos. Standing on a black sand beach beneath low-hanging clouds, staring into the frothing sea.

I threw up a hand, halting the conversation, watching.

He turns toward a jagged hillside and stares up at the perilous ascent toward crumbled ruins. This place holds pain—deep, ancient pain. Grief that long-since calcified.

“Get the real thing,” I breathed, locking eyes with August.

Something tugged at me from that vision. Something familiar. A long-forgotten ache stirred in my chest, amplified when I looked at my mate.

We’d planned to train with Kingsley, then walk through the Terramyst Forest to the vanishing sea. But a different tide was calling.

Where are you? The question pulsed through me, a desperate attempt to reach down whatever twisted line bound me to my enemy. But the link still only worked one way. I couldn’t send thoughts back. Not yet.

Still, I wondered—if I went overseas, would it change? Would he?

It might not work. It might not be how we bend him. But maybe…

“Of course.”

“Gonna fill us in, Al?” Alec asked, tilting his head and chomping into an apple from—who the hell knew where. He wiped his wrist over his mouth. “You’re doing the creepy, muttering-to-yourself thing again.”

“Adrastos is English.”

“Uhhh, yeah.” The duh practically dripped from his tone and the lift of his brow.

“Of course we’re not finding him. We’re looking in the wrong places.” I stared down at the ring, heart thudding. “What if…he went home?”