Page 64 of Commanding Blood And Bonds
He moved quickly through the hall, focus sharp, face grim.
I rushed to him. “Tell me what to do.”
He halted, his scowl sliding into confusion. “Did you have a stroke?”
“I’m serious. Tell me how to help. What to do.”
“Didn’t think I’d ever hear that from your mouth.”
“Darius—” my voice cracked, “—I’m serious.”
He watched me, the tension between us shifting. “Okay,” he said finally. “We need clothes. Someone has to run into town—sizes and needs are here.” He handed me a scrap of paper. “We also need tea. Chicken broth. Many were starved as punishment. If they eat solids, they’ll purge. Can you handle that?”
“Yes,” I said, voice hoarse. “Call me if anything changes.”
With a single nod, he turned and slipped beyond the hallway—into shadows, into motion.
When I whirled to head out, Alastair was already waiting. Hand outstretched. Ready to jump.
It wasn’t until late evening—after the victims had been tallied, clothes distributed, healers rotated through, and children tucked into warm beds—that a heavy hush finally fell across the estate.
A haunted silence clung to the walls, trailing after the Bellaton souls as they drifted away in pairs and trios, worn from triage and sorrow. The new watch rotated in, shoulders tight with responsibility. I spotted Reyna retreating from the fray, her posture regal despite the exhaustion carved into her movements. She was pulling pins from her braid as I caught up on silent feet, her long hair falling free around her shoulders.
She was sucking in a breath—tight and pained—when I reached her side.
She flinched, catching sight of me. The moment of relief that flickered across her face quickly vanished behind a glare.
“What?”
“I want to help.”
“You did,” she said curtly.
“More. I want to help more.”
Those disapproving blue eyes swept over me—bloodied cheekbone, stiff posture, jaw still tender from being rearranged—and she sighed.
“Your magic hasn’t even finished knitting your skin together. You’ve done all your gifts will allow you to.”
“I don’t just mean tonight.”
Her brow twitched. “What do you mean?”
“When I’ve properly ascended…I’d like to help the children.”
“When this is all over, you’ll be back beside your Commander, ferrying souls between realms,” she said flatly. Just facts. But my heart sank anyway.
“Right. But when I’m not…on assignment. When I’m not needed by Aren or called into something with Ally—I want to help. Here.”
She studied me for a long, unreadable moment, then turned and resumed walking toward the owner’s suite. I fell into step beside her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“If I say no, won’t you ask anyway?”
“Probably,” I admitted, keeping pace. “Why here?”
“They need somewhere to sleep. Somewhere safe to heal. And I’m not handing them over to the incompetent hands of mortal systems when I can care for them myself.”
