Page 46 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

And then we plunged into freezing water.

Down, down, down.

His weight dragged me deeper. My lungs burned, panic clawing at my ribs. I shoved against him, into the darkness, kicking, twisting⁠—

But the world spun, blackness swallowing me whole.

Six weeks before the portals opened…

“Can you handle that?” Reyna asked, her gaze locked on me across the breakfast table. It took all my self-control not to blink stupidly as I forced down the scalding mouthful of coffee I’d inhaled in my surprise. The Queen of Bellaton was still watching me, her expression impatient, waiting for my answer.

We’d yet to have another moment alone, and she hadn’t bothered to ask about my findings—waiting, I suspected, to get me alone again.

Which meant she either didn’t trust her team or simply didn’t want them to know everything I had to share.

She’d just used the morning debrief to play back footage of two burglaries—both at greenhouses supplying her labs. These were the sixth and seventh such offenses in as many weeks, further confirming my suspicion that my dear old friends were orchestrating some kind of biological attack. A drug, perhaps. And I had a sinking feeling my most recent strike had drawn them out—unfortunately targeting Reyna in the process.

Clearing my throat, I said, “My pleasure.”

“My tools are at your disposal,” she replied simply before turning back to Verena, her second-in-command. “Next on the agenda: the strike team. Are they prepared for Thursday?”

Wait, that’s it? No further information or instructions? My mouth popped open a beat before my irritated gaze flicked to Brody, who smirked but gave me an incremental head shake.

That’s an olive branch, he said through the mental link. Don’t destroy it.

The fuck?!

I mean, at least she’s giving you something. That’s progress.

Handle her thieves? Seriously. They look lame.

They had. No shadows. No magic. Just three thieves in standard-issue cat burglar outfits.

It could be worse. They could not be lame.

No instructions. No handoff to someone who can show me the other burglaries? She’s setting me up to fail. So much for our brief truce. Was this punishment for not reporting in the second I snuck back onto the property?

We warned you she wouldn’t be an easy mark.

An easy mark! I balked. An easy mark would have the common fucking sense not to attempt neutrality in a war against humanity.

Allying with other resisting hierarchies isn’t exactly neutrality.

You’re right, my bad. It’s fucking idiocy.

Brody audibly snorted, trying—and failing—to disguise it with a cough. Alastair patted him on the back like he’d choked on a grape. Reyna’s eyes flicked to him, then to me, without breaking her sentence—something about reports from the West Coast and worsening healer attacks.

I can’t argue there, Brody finally admitted. But we’re a little biased, don’t you think?

Biases involve prejudice. Lived experience is tangible proof.

Patience, Alastair chided, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.

Aren clearly forgot who he was deploying, I countered. Patience had never been my strong suit.

Shut up and listen, their brother Ajax piped up.

Okay, soap boy, I bit back. Seriously. Why did he keep that damn name?