Page 151 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

In predictable harmony, Lana chimed in, “We were having a perfectly lovely morning.”

“We were just going over your notes for the emissary meeting tomorrow.”

“We’re not staying,” I said quickly.

“What?!” Alec’s eyes bulged, blinking like I’d grown a second head.

Maybe I had. Maybe the trance had broken something. Maybe this wild-eyed madness was all that remained.

This felt like Grayshell’s most chaotic rendition of Who’s On First. Nonsense volleyed between us while no one understood a damn thing. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Laugh, because, my God, I missed our family.

Cry, because there were emissaries to contact. Strings to pull. A counterweight bastard to trap into an alliance. And Aren’s Deadly Seven were bickering like middle schoolers.

This was the problem with sneaking in under the radar.

As Ally, the meddling sister, I had zero authority.

What they needed wasn’t Ally.

They needed Alvara Porter. Second-in-command.

“Focus, Alec,” I snapped, standing straighter. “If your presence was prudent, you would have been invited. We can’t stay. Being here interferes with too many threads still in motion. And I’ve got a hell of a lot on my plate, which brings me to this—” I met Ansel’s eyes and widened my own for emphasis. “I need your help.”

“Kinda figured,” Ansel muttered, lifting his mug for a slow sip of what smelled like black coffee. His gaze swept over the four of us, then darted toward the open front door.

Voice tight, I said, “I’m going to give you a very specific list of instructions. And you cannot miss a step. Okay?”

THIRTY

TICK-TOCK

FREYA

Of all the ways I’d died in past lives, none were as shameful as getting beaten to death by a Southern Belle Barbie. Alas. First time for everything.

Groaning, I rolled onto my back and blinked up at the ornate ceiling of Reyna’s ballroom. “That all you got?” It would’ve sounded tougher if I had enough air in my lungs to do more than croak. The next thing I saw was a too-pretty face with livid blue eyes and blonde hair glaring down at me.

“If you challenge my sister like this,” Reyna snapped, disgust curling her lip as she vaguely waved at, well, all of me, “your death will be swift and humiliating. You’ll bring shame to Grayshell and Bellaton alike. I won’t have it. Now get up.”

Ah. Now I saw how she and Aren had been a thing. Jesus Christ. Saints and angels. I really needed to finish ascending. Now that Reyna understood the urgency, she was more willing to help, but still refused to take me to the Middle. Claimed she’d triggered plenty of ascensions right here on these mats. Doubtful. I highly doubted any of them had been stuck in an eighteen-year-old vessel. And try as she might, Queen Reyna Gwyne was not more terrifying than Agamemnon with his mammoth hand around my throat.

This body was just too damn young.

Still, I staggered to my feet, stepping into a fighting stance—not that I could defend myself. I’d taken worse beatings. On second thought, as shadows slithered around my body, trapping my arms and binding my throat in silky ribbons, maybe not. Reyna squeezed, and I gasped. A flicker of power sparked deep in my core, and I thrashed, trying to draw on every last drop of adrenaline.

In the corner of my mind, I heard my phone ringing.

“It’s Ally,” Brody called from the edge of the room.

“Gahhh,” Reyna snarled. Her shadows dissolved just as fast as they’d formed, and I dropped to my knees, coughing. Brody clicked the answer button while she huffed, “I wasn’t actually gonna kill her!”

Snickering, I grabbed her outstretched hand and hauled myself up. But Brody’s face had gone pale, his eyes bouncing from Reyna to me. Without a word, Carlton and another healer stepped forward, running hands over my limbs and lifting bruises and scrapes from my skin. Nothing major. They’d have me good as new in a minute.

But I couldn’t look away from Brody as Ally’s voice poured through the phone at hummingbird speed.

“We’re on our way,” he vowed, summoning his armor in a snap. His brothers followed suit, weapons materializing in the space of a heartbeat. Eyes locked on me, Brody said, “Aren’s in trouble.”