Page 187 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Let me know if you need a team. You’ll have our best.”

“Right. Thank you,” I murmured—but I was already moving.

My feet carried me across the room, straight to the source of that anguish. The paralyzed soul. I dropped onto the bench in front of her, breath catching as her eyes snapped up to meet mine—and magic burst outward from her like sunlight. It kissed my skin, just as warm, smoothing scrapes and bruises without even trying.

“You alright, little one?”

She scowled, sitting up straighter, not bothering to hide her once-over. “Who are you calling little, Thumbelina?”

Chuckling, I raised my hands in surrender. “Name’s Freya. I’m Ansel and Lana’s soul daughter.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded, extending a tan hand. “Blythe Briar.”

“You were in their coven? The girls who were killed?” At her nod, I said quietly, “You have my deepest condolences. Can I do anything for you?”

“That depends,” she said, voice crisp. “Can you jump?”

I scanned my reserves—fuller than they’d been since the war began. A few hours in the Middle had done more than I expected.

I nodded. “Where do you need to be?”

“Somewhere I can remember how to breathe.”

PART 2

THE PAWN’S ASCENT

THIRTY-SIX

BAD BLOOD

AUGUST

Tap, tap, tap.

Everything ached. The hammer of my pulse was a steady assault against my temples, clear down to my fingers and the tips of my toes. Even my stomach seemed to vibrate with each beat.

Tap.

My mouth was so dry I nearly choked, the lingering residue of ash poisoning every attempt to draw in air.

Tap, tap.

A groan wheezed out of my throat as I shifted, mind working double time to locate the muscles required to move. The world was both an ice-enveloped river and an inferno, sweat trickling down my forehead, back, and chest.

Tap, tap, tap.

What in the hell was tapping so obnoxiously?

Eyes stinging, I tried to open them, but they felt glued shut. Panic nipped at the edges of the calm I’d managed to maintain so far. I brought my hands to my face and found a sickly crust over my eyes—like the goop that layered them when I had pink eye as a kid. Scraping it from my lashes, I tried to summon water, but not even a drop manifested. Growling, I jerked upright, wiping furiously, fighting the compulsion to claw.

“Take it easy, Commander. You’re safe,” a woman said, her voice threaded with a thick Scottish lilt.

“Where am I—who are you?”

“My name’s Cairis. You’re at Morrieth Hall, one of King Kade’s estates, my Lord.”

My head spun as memories returned. Demons—endless demons. And Ally…drawing power from my chest like a jumper cable gone wrong as she fought to close the gate. Did it work? I couldn’t remember.