Page 362 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

A few stood—some angry. Some afraid. I nodded to each as they turned to leave.

The rest stayed.

“Please rise,” I whispered. I knew Queens weren’t meant to beg. But I wasn’t a queen. I was a fighter with too much blood on her hands. “Leadership, meet me in the throne room. Wings, return to your stations. Lieutenant Caruso—congratulations on your promotion. You’re now Captain. Queen Gwyne, I’ll see you in the war room for negotiations.”

The crowd stirred—buzzing with new orders.

Three sets of wary eyes found mine. I could only look at one. When I reached for Cyrus’s mind, I found exactly what I expected: betrayal, anger, relief. Protection.

“You three, come with me.”

“Is that an order or a request, Your Majesty?” Carr asked. It hit like a punch.

“Please, Carr.”

His eyes softened just slightly, and he nodded. We moved for the stairs as I asked Brody to see to Reagan’s body.

Only one place felt appropriate: Cyrus’s room. The Queen’s quarters would be cruel. The meeting rooms were filling. This—this was for them.

No one spoke until Cyrus pushed open the door and found his father shackled to the floor.

“Dad!” he barked. He and Calypso rushed forward.

Carr’s eyes snapped to me. Not with accusation—but understanding. “When did you figure it out?”

“I suspected for a while,” I whispered. “But the nail in the coffin was turning over his only living son to be brutalized. The Ciaran I knew would never. Not even for his mate.”

I turned back. Calypso was crying. Cyrus had his face in his hands. Ciaran sobbed on the floor.

“I’ll get a healer…Maleficent,” Carr muttered, voice wry.

I smiled faintly. Bit back my own emotion. This wasn’t the place for it. Not to grieve Reagan. Not to weep in relief. This wasn’t for me. It was for them. I told myself that again and again, as Ciaran confessed everything. The Blood Bond. The leash. The love his children had never received. The mistakes that had nearly cost them everything.

And I told myself it would be worth it.

Even if they hated me for it.

SIXTY-SEVEN

THE ROOK

FREYA

“One unified region?”

“That’s correct,” I confirmed.

Reyna’s smile grew as we finished essentially dissolving the treaty between Paladin and Bellaton. We weren’t merging the two back into one united hierarchy—or even bridging the mental gap like Westerlund and Grayshell—but there would be no more divide.

No border at the river. Our souls could move freely, clear to the Atlantic. No more feud. No more hoarded resources. No more divided missions. One allied region of shadows. Cyrus and Blaz had set the framework. I’d just pitched it—and with Reagan’s body chilling, and Ally’s dire warnings still echoing in my ears, Reyna was amicable.

I’d stopped only long enough for Jo to patch me up before she returned her attention to Cyrus in his chambers.

“Congratulations, Freya. You play a good game.” The queen stood and reached across the table to shake my hand like we’d just closed a business deal.

Congratulations on your hostile takeover of my estranged sister’s kingdom. The day just kept getting more surreal.

I’d stepped out to give the Stuarts a moment—just the three of them. Horrible or not, Reagan had been the pillar of their world for decades—or in her mate’s case, centuries. Love didn’t have to be healthy to consume you.