Page 382 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

BOOM.

SEVENTY

MAYHEM

MAGNOLIA

The world exploded. The townhouse burst into fragments, fire slamming against the bubble Alvara had cast around us.

Trapped.

I was trapped in a body I couldn’t move, pinned to the floor.

Sirens. Flashing lights. The reek of charred wood and melting plastic. I stood in our front yard, the chill of the earth creeping into my bare feet. My pajama dress clung to my legs, my arms hanging limp at my sides as I stared at the inferno devouring our home.

Nathara running past the firemen, tears already glistening on her cheeks when she hit her knees in front of me.

Alvara’s growl yanked me back into my body. Back into a different fire. A different home.

The seer braced herself on her forearms, shielding me with her body. Her eyes—wide and glossy—were fixed not on the flames but on something beyond them. Sight.

Shadows curled protectively around us, my element responding not to me, but to her. Guarding my protector, even as fire consumed the world.

Everything beyond Alvara’s face and whipping hair vanished behind the wall of orange and falling debris. No sound reached me but the screaming silence in my ears and the echo of my pulse. A temporary threshold shift, I knew, but that knowledge didn’t make it less surreal.

Her face twisted—effort or a snarl, I couldn’t tell—as she pushed herself upright and hurled her arms wide, magic erupting from her like a crashing wave. I tried to move, to rise and help, but her hand dropped to my chest, pinning me with painful force to the floor.

Stay down.

Her eyes slammed shut. Fists clenched. Flames bent toward her, pouring into her body like a second skin. She devoured the fire as if it belonged to her. When her eyes snapped open, embers glowed beneath her emerald irises.

I dared a glance sideways—toward what used to be the kitchen—and caught a flash of winter-blue eyes. Aren. His shield surrounded those who’d been huddled near the counters, and I huffed a relieved breath. Alec and August stood at his sides, casting nets of power wide across the block, as though they alone could protect the entire street.

Beside them, the alleged enemy knelt, hands outstretched in the opposite direction. Still alive. All of them. For now.

Aren met my gaze across the wreckage, and something in my chest loosened. His calm steadied me. But the moment didn’t last.

He, Freya, and Ansel raised their hands—drawing from the well of their magic—and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Not from the hit to my ribs, but from the sudden vacuum of oxygen in the room. Alvara swallowed the fire; they swallowed the air.

The silence thickened, iron-weighted and absolute. And then, the inferno extinguished, only seconds passing in an eternity of holding my breath.

Alvara launched to her feet, whirling toward the front door—or what remained of it. She barked a command I couldn’t hear through the ringing in my skull.

Heal your ears, witchling. His voice crashed through my mind. I snapped my gaze to Bellamy—no, Adrastos—watching me with a haunted expression. Now.

The shock nearly knocked the breath from me. He could mind-speak. He’d been able to all along. Which meant he’d been lying—just like Alvara said. He could see. Like her.

Betrayal surged.

Followed by shame.

He’d been inside me. I had trusted him. With my body. My sisters. My life.

And all the while, he’d known.

I blinked, barely hearing him as he tried to speak again. Red flared at the edges of my vision. I wanted a knife. Glass. Anything sharp enough to draw blood.

Strong hands seized my arms, pulling me upright. Aren.