Page 338 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

I nodded. “You will be missing from me.”

A quiet smile curved his mouth, that same reverence from the vault flickering in his eyes like I was the last thing he’d ever see. Swallowing hard, I squeezed his hand and stepped away, waving to Cali and Carr as I crossed the river.

By the time we crossed into Bellaton, my mental to-do list had spiraled out of control—first item: shower off forty-eight hours of sex before presenting myself to Reyna for judgment. I emptied my pockets at the bedside table, taking care with Alvara’s hourglass, watching the tiny grains slide through the center—too slowly. And somehow, far too fast.

Time.

We were running out of it.

Bolstering myself, I made quick work of stripping and stepped into the shower, cataloging priorities as the scalding spray hit my shoulders. Today we were briefing the full Flying Squad, syncing strategy with Ally and Aren’s allies. My head already hurt.

But the water seemed to knock something loose—a dangling thought that had haunted me for days.

Did I trust Cyrus and Calypso to do the right thing with Paladin?

Yes. I finally did.

And that meant allowing Calypso to bear the Heiress mark before I moved. It promised the return of power to their bloodline—an honor Cyrus had fought his whole life to defend. It was Cyrus Cali relied on for foresight. Cyrus who had the loyalty of the Wings. Cyrus who’d already spilled blood to protect the line of succession.

Cyrus, who had defied the treaty to begin building peace with his cousin.

A leader. A friend. A man I trusted.

And he was only twenty-two.

Maybe—if I played my cards right—it didn’t have to be me on that throne.

SIXTY-THREE

LIGHTS OFF

CYRUS

The sun had already set by the time we peeled ourselves away from the stack of books Blaz smuggled to Cali. Only Jo’s arrival with food from The Rougarou had broken our trance—she’d basically spoon-fed Cali to make her stop reading long enough to eat.

“You coming out to celebrate with us?” Jo asked, turning to me with a look that said she already knew my answer.

“Nah. That motherfucker threatened Freya. I’m not in the mood.” I jerked my chin toward Cali, who was inhaling fried gator like a woman possessed. “That’s a good look for you, sis,” I added. She responded with twin middle fingers, which sent Jo into a giggle fit as our oh-so-regal, almost-Heiress returned to Hoovering down calories. Carr snorted, leaned back on the couch, and stretched his neck like he was one nap away from full collapse.

“When do we address the Queen?” he asked without opening his eyes, voice low.

“Fuck. Hopefully never.”

“Sooner rather than later,” he advised, reaching for the food—only for Cali to slap his hand away with alarming speed.

“She’s pissed,” Carr muttered. “Asking all kinds of questions.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You’re coming to the marking ceremony tomorrow,” Cali declared, mouth full. When I grimaced, her eyes widened—tearing up slightly as she gulped the food down too fast.

“Christ, Cal. Chew.”

She batted Carr away again, and I started wondering how long it would take before he tackled her. “So help me, Cyrus, if you miss this⁠—”

“I’ll be there,” I said, resigned. “You know I’ll be there.”

“I also know you have the most obsessive single-mindedness on the planet.”