Page 316 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Meaning she’d never been initiated into the hierarchy. Her only mental link had been with Juno—Reagan’s brother.

Ansel pulled me aside and met my eyes, his hands settling on my shoulders.

Just for me, he thought, Be safe, babygirl. Follow the plan. Signal if you need us.

I’ll see you on the other side.

He kissed my forehead, hugged me tight, then stepped away with a brisk godspeed.

Ansel peeled left. We went right, slipping into the maze with nothing but schematics and shadows.

“You two seem close,” Cyrus signed.

I nodded. “Ansel’s great. We were closer…before. Last time.”

“Your mother’s terrifying.”

Swallowing a laugh, I signed, “So’s yours. Lana barks more than she bites—unless you deserve it.”

“That’s where you get it?”

“Maybe. Kinda came out that way this go-around. James called me ‘feral Freya’ until I was ten.”

“Brother?”

“Blood. Like August.”

“You just ascended in January?”

I nodded.

“You’re incredible. A newborn, and you humiliated us.”

The praise caught me off guard. I smiled, then forced my expression neutral. “Focus, Prince. Keep your eyes up. Last thing we need is them sneaking up on us through the shadows.”

He nodded, and we pressed forward until the tunnel came to an abrupt halt. I knelt, drawing a blade and slicing across my palm. With my blood, I traced a revealing rune over the stone. It hummed, glowing faintly until a shimmering outline appeared in the wall.

I reached into the cut again, this time drawing an unlocking rune.

The stone groaned. A door shifted inward with glacial reluctance—and by some miracle, no guards waited beyond it.

The room was beautiful. Ethereal. A surreal blend of gothic architecture and sleek modern lines. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, leading up into spires that curled like fingers toward an unseen ceiling. For one breath, I just stared, until Cyrus elbowed my shoulder. Time to move.

We padded down the corridor in silence until we reached the vault: an enormous glass wall enclosing treasures most rulers would kill for.

Weapons from enemy corpses. Carvings. Tablets. Paintings. Armor polished to gleaming perfection. The king’s most prized possessions, and only two guards flanked the exit.

I jerked my head left. Cyrus took the right. We moved like mirrored blades, sprinting forward on silent feet.

I went for the throat. He snapped a neck. Neither body made a sound when it hit the ground.

“Ruthless,” I signed, smirking. “I like it.”

“Looking good yourself.”

Flirting over bloodshed. That was new.

We slipped through the arched entry and into the vault.