Page 122 of Commanding Blood And Bonds
She was frozen. Eyes brazenly locked on her hand, where shadows curled up her arm, she studied it like it was new.
“Wicked,” she breathed, glancing back at me with victory in her eyes.
Then she winked—and vanished.
I stumbled through the broken window, dragging my useless leg through clinking shards. Civilians were filming. Others clearly reporting the altercation to the cops.
Two Wings sprinted up, eyes wide behind their masks. They hauled my arms over their shoulders and whisked me away into shadow.
We solidified a block from the river. Up ahead, our thief flitted short bursts forward—jump, jump, jump—just far enough to stay ahead.
“Orders?” Carr panted.
“Get me closer.”
We dropped behind her. Our shadows surged forward, forming a billowing wall.
I raised my gun and aimed at the streetlight giving her cover.
“Valora!”
Had my eyes not been zeroed in on her, I would’ve missed her involuntary twitch in my direction before she caught herself.
Gotcha’, ghost girl.
Vindication filled my veins a beat before she vanished again, reappearing at the top of the bridge.
Two shadows joined her. A blink later, they were gone.
Stolen by the night.
TWENTY-FIVE
SUICIDE
FREYA
“What were you thinking?” Reyna barked, her lacy dress fanning out like a cape as she whirled around the healer’s room. I loathed this place—hated stealing breaths of air where Darius had taken his last. But I needed my face put back together. Ergo, hell.
“This is not what I meant when I said in and out undetected,” she snapped, waving a manicured hand in my direction.
“Do I get bonus points for pretending to care?” I bit out, but winced when her healer dabbed something fiery on the wound in my back.
“Mind your tone,” Blaz growled from the far wall, looking sleep-rumpled and only halfway conscious. And okay, yeah, maybe snapping at a hierarchy queen wasn’t smart—but everything hurt. And the bastard I’d fought had emptied his magazine, leaving me one single round to send in for diagnostics.
Worse? I’d defended him. Some twisted instinct had kicked in before logic caught up. Too many damn years fighting to protect people.
“Your thieves were about to scuttle away into the shadows with the weapon. I got it. Case closed,” I repeated, jamming my eyes shut so I didn’t snarl at the healer still plucking glass from my shoulder.
“Aren would—”
“What?” I yelped as a jolt of pain iced through my nerves. I glared at Reyna. “Aren would what, Commander? The man is guarding an entire legion of the world’s most competent healers—thousands of them. He and Nat are embedding them into every hierarchy for the coming war. He’s chasing down fragments of Alvara’s visions, negotiating with humans, and prepping centuries of allies for the war to end all wars. Trust me, a few scrapes on a voluntary pawn aren’t making his priority list. Nor should they.”
Reyna snarled and dropped into a chair in a rumple of satin and lace. Her glare could’ve split steel. “The second the Paladins descended, you should’ve returned to the estate.”
“And miss our last chance to intercept that weapon before Alvara says the war begins?” I asked, keeping my voice level. My camisole clung like a second skin, suffocating me. There was pressure building behind my eyes—maybe from that Paladin or just from being here, listening to this damn lecture.
Everything ached.
