Page 86 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“No shit,” I bit out before I could stop myself. “Do you have information, or did you just miss our company?”

“Cyrus,” Dad warned, leveling a glare at me. Read the room.

“Your son is correct,” Lonan said. “Idiotic to speak so bluntly when outmatched, but correct.”

I curled my fingers into fists while the bastard stirred honey into his tea, utterly unbothered.

“I come with a warning,” he continued. “And a proposal.”

“Oh, by all means,” I muttered. “Do keep us waiting.”

Ma didn’t react. Neither did the masked man.

“The warning is this: regardless of your current allegiance, The Six are aligning with the revolution.”

“Hazelharbor?” Ma asked, mask firmly in place. “I find that hard to believe.”

“They’ll change hands soon enough.”

“But that doesn’t tell us where they stand.”

“To be determined.”

“And Kade?”

“More of the same.”

“So, three of The Six withhold their support,” I said. “Three back the revolution.”

The pinch in Dad’s brow and set of his jaw had me glancing between him and that damn leather mask, loathing his lack of transparency. Dad was uneasy—a feat rarely accomplished. And he’d been that way for days—buried in his thoughts. “If the bounty goes unanswered,” my father reminded us.

I blinked. “Bounty?”

“Commander Amadeus issued a public warrant,” Lonan explained. “A sketch. A head price. He demands Adrastos’ death.”

The name sparked something—half-forgotten, just out of reach. Some distant corner of my mind stirred to life, like a shadow within awakening.

I should know that name. I did know that name.

But the connection danced just out of reach.

“Who is he?” I asked, leaning forward, shadows pulling tight around my hands.

“No one knows,” Dad said. His voice was quieter than usual. Tight.

“If we’ve learned anything,” the intruder added, “it’s that Adrastos is only found when he wants to be.”

My shadows hissed uneasily.

“But do you know who he is?” I asked, voice low.

He didn’t blink. “Who isn’t the question you should be asking, Princeling.”

“What he wants is,” Ma finished for him.

Paris, or Lonan, or whoever the fuck the grim messenger was, inclined his head.

“You’ve come to deliver a warning,” she prompted again. “So, deliver it.”