Page 100 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Agreed,” Cyrus bit out, stepping closer to him as if bracing for conflict. Awesome. Just what the horrors of the night needed—a cherry on top. “We’re way out of territory here. What had you so preoccupied that you didn’t beat us to the square?”

“We’re overextended,” Cadoc said curtly. “I don’t appreciate the insinuation that the city was ceded in anything other than a strategic withdrawal.”

“We’re all overextended,” August bit back. “We still responded when rebels called for aid. I armed a fucking child in that square tonight.”

“Nobody told you to give a toddler a weapon, Mr. Porter. What you do on your time is your prerogative.”

“Ryker Ashborne. That name ring a bell?”

Cadoc scoffed, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “I’d hardly call a seventeen-year-old a child. Young men have fought and died for their people since the dawn of time. An unfortunate reality of war, young Commander. A lesson I’m sure you’ll learn in time.”

“No need to condescend, Cadoc,” Ciaran cut in. “Let’s all take a breath, gentlemen. We’re fighting an uphill battle, outnumbered, outgunned, and certainly outplayed. The opposition has been strategizing this war for centuries. The fact that we’ve retained strongholds is a feat in itself.”

“I think what my brother is saying,” I stepped in, “is that while we’ve appreciated your resources, we need more aid than tomes and riddles. The rebels are flagging. Four months in, that’s not a loss we can afford if we’re going to come out on the other side of this.”

“So, what are you in need of, Miss Porter?” Atreus asked, his gaze curious rather than cutting like his father’s.

“An alliance.”

“Straight shooter,” Cadoc noted, that spark brightening. “I like it.”

“No time to beat around the bush.”

“Agreed,” August affirmed, still looking like he’d rather beat the man than strategize with him.

“Join us, Cadoc. We’ve let you be. We’ve given you time. But we need your resources as much as your wisdom.” I wasn’t sure flattery would get me anywhere, but it was worth a shot.

“The Paladins were once united,” Cyrus pointed out. “Let us come together again, for the strength of our people.”

“With all due respect, Prince, there’s a reason our hierarchies divided—and why the alliance with your mother failed.”

“I am not Reagan Stuart,” I declared. “Unlike my predecessor, the balance is law.”

He raised a brow. “We’ll see.”

“Color me curious, but Reagan betrayed me and slit my throat the last go-around. I haven’t had much time to catch up on recent events. What caused the strife in the first place?”

“That’s a long story.”

“And maybe if I get a handle on your hesitations, I can assure you they’re no longer relevant.”

“So.” That eerie, too-sharp smile cut across his face. “She plays the game.”

“You don’t generally disassemble a hierarchy without understanding the rulebook,” I said with a wink.

“What’s in it for us?”

“I beg your pardon?” Cyrus drawled, his attempt to humor Cadoc faltering.

“We lay our soldiers at his feet”—his eyes cut sidelong to August—“in exchange for… fewer soldiers? Our coffers run dry?”

“Jesus Christ,” August growled.

“I think siding against the domination of humanity is reward enough, don’t you?” I challenged.

“These are our cousins you’re asking us to slaughter. We’d all be kin slayers should we join you in this hell you’ve created for yourself.”

“We didn’t start this war. We just don’t have the stomach to watch innocent blood spill,” August ground out. “Doesn’t look like you can say as much.”