Page 194 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“They’re hard to get in the first place—the fact her predecessor had them is a miracle.”

“Fuck.”

“What was that?” he teased, cupping a hand around his ear. I fought the urge to rip the sucker from his mouth and hurl it at the wall. In what I could only assume was an asinine impression of me, he said, “Aww, thanks, Blaz, for showing me the library.” Switching to his own low tenor, he nearly stole a smile I didn’t feel like giving. “Why, you’re so welcome, darlin’. Anything for my friend.” Then, pitching his voice into a ridiculous falsetto and fanning his face, he declared, “Why, Blaz, you handsome man, you’ve gone above and beyond.”

I rose from the table, ignoring the Scarlett O’Hara theatrics.

He snickered, then followed lazily after me, books in tow. “I just must rush to win you favor with the queen!”

“Your impression is terrible.”

“And you’re in a terrible mood,” he noted, accepting the books I practically hurled into his arms.

He’d grown since I’d been here. I half-wondered if he was creeping along the world’s slowest ascension.

“Losing will do that to a woman.”

“You don’t look like you’ve lost much from where I’m standing,” he retorted, trailing me with long, easy strides as I led us out of the library. My gaze scanned the hall ahead, tracking for threats on autopilot.

“I wouldn’t classify my last interaction with the Paladins as a win.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, drawing my attention. The soft fall of our steps was the only sound in the corridor—most estate-dwellers were deployed or on perimeter duty after the Paladins’ little stunt. “You’re alive. I’m alive. Mother’s negotiating a price for the treaty violation. I’ll call that a win.”

Reyna’s study door was cracked, but I knocked anyway. Her answer was immediate.

“Come in. Ahh, what are you two up to?”

“Research for a mission,” I said, dipping my head respectfully as we stepped inside. “I’m hoping you can help.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’ve got a meeting in—” she checked her wristwatch “—ten minutes. Hit me.”

“What do you know about the survivors of the Hadriana line?”

Pale blue eyes blinked twice before she seemed to shake off the surprise. “Not much.”

“How is that possible? You all descend from Bellpost proper.”

“Before my lifeline, I’m afraid, Miss Porter.”

I froze. “You were hellbent on teaching me all the tenets of hierarchy politics, but you don’t know your own ancestral line?”

“No one does.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged, delicate shoulders rising. I hadn’t realized how loud my face was until she added, “Don’t narrow your eyes at me, Freya Porter. You’re the only one in this room keeping secrets.”

Ignoring the barb, I asked, “How does a royal line vanish?”

“With intention,” she said simply.

“Care to expand?”

“Bellpost’s core value metric was honor. I’m not sure what happened when the hierarchy fell, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have garnered much in the way of that, based on the curse that crumbled their Middle Realm.”

“Again. What does that mean?” I pressed breathlessly, a familiar serpent of fear winding around my ribcage and squeezing tight. A hint of knowing crept into my mind, but for once, I really, really hoped I was wrong. Reyna’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly—more in study than accusation. I stood my ground, even as Blaz dumped the books onto her desk with a clumsy thunk and sighed in exasperation.

“Why so curious?”