Page 16 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Still fighting to catch my breath, I stepped up to keep pace beside the Queen of Bellaton, who held her neck long and shoulders back like some prim Southern belle when a warrior should have stood in her place. Lurking under all those pastels, she had to be fierce, or there was no way she would have lasted this long. No way Aren would believe we needed her.

Aren.

Yikes. The idea of the longest-lived Commander ever giving this rigid little blonde his time made me vaguely nauseous. Shaking off the unease, I asked, “Why are we convening in the war room?”

“We?” she drawled, those blonde Hollywood curls bobbing as she sneered at me. “You’re mistaken, Miss Porter. You are an unfortunate thorn in my side—a payment to an ally to whom I owe a life debt—nothing more. I will train you while Aren doddles off to fraternize with those heathens out west, but that is the end of this dynamic. There is no we.”

Gritting my teeth, I hurried to keep up as footsteps followed behind us. “I’m training, as you ordered.”

“One business week does not justify risking an ally’s prized asset.”

“I’m not some newblood infant,” I countered. Or at least, I wouldn’t be the moment I could force this vessel to complete its ascension. “I’ve served Aren for centuries.”

“And in this incarnation, you can’t even jump,” she pointed out with mock sympathy. Would’ve been a hell of a lot more convincing if she wasn’t smirking.

“Perhaps if you’d lend me access to Bellaton’s Middle, I could complete the transformation and remedy that.”

“I like you, Miss Porter.”

I highly doubted that.

“But that doesn’t mean you get access to our sacred ground.”

“So...what? You expect me to sit down here on my hands while you and your council deliberate on whether or not you’ll ally with the only resisting forces against Adrastos⁠—”

“Grayshell is not the center of this continent or any other,” she pointed out with a huff. “Don’t delude yourself into believin’ Aren’s name alone is enough to win the forces you were sent to retrieve.”

“Aren is the greatest Commander in Nephilim history,” I stated, fighting to keep my tone even and my face blank.

“That may very well be,” she bit out, whirling on me like a pissed-off viper coiling to strike, “but he’s not my Commander. And he is not the only Commander keepin’ an eye on the escalating situation with your mysterious adversary. Keep that in mind.”

“Mother,” Blaz’s controlled tone had us both turning to where he was scolding her with his eyes. Blaz, at least, had warmed to our little cadre from the moment we arrived. Brody hovered just behind him, my lone remaining chaperone, as his brothers were out on a mission. With a huff, Reyna straightened, softening her expression as she looked me over.

“You are welcome to retire to your rooms, Miss Porter. We have business to attend to.”

Like that would ever happen. Ally and Aren sent me here to win an alliance. I wasn’t about to sit in my buttercream yellow, floral-bedecked guest suite reading Proust while the Bellatons ran off to do God knows what.

Plus, their ongoing intel from spies within Paladin walls had already proven immensely valuable. Much to my satisfaction. Dismantling what Reagan built wouldn’t be enough. I needed to bring her entire hierarchy to heel. I needed to conquer the trials, expose the truth of what happened on the east side of the river, and in turn, take the throne. If I managed to pull all of it off, I’d return to Aren with not one, but two armies at our disposal.

But that required me to fully embody my power and amass all the information I could glean from the resources at my disposal.

I wouldn’t be missing any of that, either.

Staying in step with the three of them, we marched through the palatial estate and into her war room, where the heads of six additional Bellaton covens had convened.

I nearly made it. Nearly.

But Reyna spun around, looking smug as hell, and held up a manicured hand inches from my face to halt my momentum. My jaw nearly cracked with the force of my clench.

“Bless your heart. But you’re a newborn.” In this life, you petulant, patronizing little shit. “This is the end of your walk for the day.”

Motioning Brody in, she glared at me as I stood there, seething like the toddler she was accusing me of being.

“You go get your rest, and I’ll see you for trainin’ in the mornin’. You understand?” she drawled, adding an obnoxiously girlish little finger wave.

How that damn Southern accent could be so endearing in Blaz and Darius but make me want to smash her face in, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes, ma’am,” I ground out, resisting the deep-rooted urge to punch a hole through her wallpapered drywall as she slammed the door in my face.