Page 209 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

He nodded, clearing his throat like it cost him something to ask. “And this Commander Adrastos…do you know anything of him?”

Goosebumps lifted along my arms. My mind flicked to the brothers—one already corrupted, the other slipping fast. To those demonic, hollow masks.

“Why not ask Lonan?” I asked. “His men wear the same masks.”

That made Cyrus tilt his head, thoughtful.

“Meet me here,” I said finally, “same time, day after tomorrow. But bring something useful next time—schematics, coordinates. Something I can implement.”

“Fine.”

I started to turn, but he stopped me.

“One more thing.”

I paused, eyes narrowing.

He seemed to debate whether to speak. The words sat heavy on his tongue. “Don’t let your skin touch it.”

The warning took a second to land.

“You telling me not to touch the crown?” I asked slowly.

He didn’t answer. Just held my gaze.

“Thanks for the heads up, Prince. But uh…I’ve punched this ticket before. And the ride sucks every single time.”

His only reply was a single nod.

I stepped back—slow, deliberate. Keeping my eyes on both of them.

His observations had raised more than my hackles. I’d need to run everything past Alvara. Or Ansel. Someone who’d had boots on the ground when Solskivall burned.

As for Grayshell’s hunt for Adrastos?

Wherever the bastard was hiding…he was doing it well.

And if we’d learned anything since the battle—it was that he wasn’t hiding alone.

FORTY

BURNOUT IS A BITCH

ALVARA

We spent three days negotiating the alliance with Kade and his advisors and gaining a clearer understanding of his current forces. Not that his men would be short on bodies to work with in a matter of weeks. The thought had bile rising in my throat. An invisible clock was ticking down toward the end of the world as we knew it, matching each beat of my heart.

Three days spent evaluating where his covens were stationed and how quickly they could be called in. Three days understanding how their power worked and who his strongest wielders were.

Three days we didn’t have to lose.

When our combined well finally filled enough to jump from Morrieth Hall on the fourth morning, we headed straight for the Westerlunds, where they were hosting a handful of our refugees on their upstate horse ranch. As much as I loved Rose, my ability to let my guard down here would be immeasurably higher.

We landed in the pasture just outside the wards, my knees nearly buckling from the impact. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d emptied my power so completely.

“Noted,” August breathed, steadying me with a hand on my elbow, even as he wavered. “Don’t risk hitting the bottom of the joined well.”

“Burnout is a bitch,” I agreed, straightening my spine and pressing through the ripple of the wards.