Page 208 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“That didn’t answer the question. Where was the crypt, Freya?”

I stayed silent.

Cyrus exhaled, jaw tight. “Fine. Don’t answer. But the pieces line up. The last light-wielder was killed on Reyna’s side of the divide. Five years later. After Valora Lamb.”

“By every historical account, no Solskari were spared,” I countered.

“Right. And history’s written by the victors.”

“And you honestly believe there was a survivor.”

The silence that followed was thick as the fog rolling between the tombstones. A chill skated over my arms.

“A woman kissed by sun, but coveted by death will escape the collapse of a kingdom.”

“I don’t appreciate riddles.”

“Not a riddle. A prophecy.”

But not Alvara’s. Hers came woven with more structure—more bite. Or…at least, they did now. But Ally hadn’t been the only seer in play thirty years ago.

“Ciaran?” I asked.

He nodded, expression stony as he sighed. “Months before the attack, their queen announced she was carrying an heir.”

Pregnant. They’d butchered everyone—women, children, even souls not yet born.

“She claimed a daughter would continue the bloodline. A soul named Anastasia. Only, the queen was found⁠—”

“Dead. Five years later,” I finished, nausea creeping in with the memory. “Again. After my lifeline.”

“Right. But where is she? The most powerful line of witches in the world vanished overnight, and Anastasia just disappeared?”

“Apparently starlight only burns so brightly.”

“What else would’ve drawn Khaos’ wrath besides the crown?” Cyrus asked, eyes sharp. “He had to be the wielder. Didn’t he?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

And he noticed.

“Rumors say Bellaton hunted for her. But found nothing. Now we face a Commander more shadow than man—more death than life—building his army. Grayshell’s already hunted one of his generals. A brother who died as a Renown.”

Agamemnon’s roar echoed in my head. The memory of his blood—rotten, rancid—still turned my stomach. I remembered the sound of August’s blade cutting through his spine, remembered the way the body fell.

I fought to stay present. To keep my face from revealing any of it.

“All this time,” Cyrus went on, “I’ve wondered if Death was hunting for the crown…or the princess. Unless, of course, they’re connected.”

“You think he’s looking for some long-lost heiress named Anastasia?” I scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Ironic, I know. Maybe the name was intentional.”

“Ridiculous is more like it.” I massaged my temple, trying to sort through his theory. The image of my brother doing the same when solving complex equations made me lift my head. Freaky.

“But were they?” Cyrus asked. “Connected?”

Swallowing, I met his gaze. “I’ll give you an answer when one’s given to me.”