Page 166 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“You couldn’t respond through the same torment you always use?” Ally snarled.

His eyes landed on her, suddenly more somber. He wet his lips, visibly choosing his words before settling on just one.

“No.”

Ally blinked, stunned. The rage returned quickly, hotter than ever.

“Excuse me? Heinous dreams. Wretched memories. All in your wheelhouse. You’ve sent us warnings.”

“Have I?” His lips curved into a sly smile.

“Don’t toy with us, Adrastos,” I snapped.

“Couldn’t have been me.”

“Fuck right off,” Ally fumed.

“Such language,” he tsked. “So much effort to lure me out…and no useful questions when I finally oblige. Seems your education under Amadeus left something to be desired. I would’ve thought he taught you to seize opportunities. Leaders ask questions, don’t they, Ally?”

“Too busy deciding which of the three hundred ways to kill a man I’ll use,” she said sweetly.

Adrastos smiled wider. “If only that were an option, Princess.”

Questions. I had a million. Beginning with the life we shared…ending with was Alvara right?

Fuck it.

I dropped one brick from the wall I kept between us.

His eyes snapped to mine—lupine brown, wary, not triumphant. I let the question hover at the edge of my mind.

Is there no happy ending for Alvara this time?

His jaw tightened. For a second, he looked like a man in mourning. When his gaze met mine again, he gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

Not anymore. Not one she’s willing to pay the price for.

The world buzzed back into focus as my mental shield slammed into place.

Ally was mid-rant, spitting a colorful series of epithets and accusations.

“Well,” Adrastos said, rising from the chair with practiced indifference. “Apologies for the intrusion. I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by. You two really do make a picturesque pair. Excellent restaurant choice, by the way. Divine. The only trouble is, they seem to entertain some rather…undesirable company, with a knack for theatrics. I’d recommend ordering dessert rather hastily, if I were you. Then again, clearly, I’m not.”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Ally nearly shouted. “We’re not done here. There’s a debt to be paid.”

“Sorry, sis. That would require my physical manifestation.”

He stood—and Ally moved with terrifying speed, grabbing the steak knife and slamming it straight through his hand.

It passed clean through, lodging into the table.

“He’s an illusion,” I breathed, ice spreading down my spine.

“Yahtzee,” he drawled. “Pretty damn good one, if I do say so myself. Took me centuries to perfect.”

“He can’t be far,” Ally murmured, already grabbing her coat. I threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table and bolted after her.

His parting laugh chased us toward the exit, ending in a sing-song: