Page 16 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I averted my eyes, nausea rising like a tide bound to spill over.

This place smelled of death. Of sweat, blood, fear, and agony. It sent my magic retreating deeper into my veins, as if it could hide.

My body betrayed me then. Tremors began in my hands and climbed through my arms into my chest as they arranged us in lines facing the dais. The worst of the worst flashed through my mind, my mouth suddenly parched as I contemplated what kind of hell might befall a healer in a place like this—against magic like this death witch’s.

But the Terramyst shifters’ words rang through my mind.

This could only be as bad as I allowed it to be. I dictated the strength of my heart and mind. Only I could decide whether this broke me.

So I faced them as a broad-shouldered man dressed in finery stepped up to the podium and began to speak. I couldn’t hear his words over the roaring in my ears, that icy sanctuary I’d built inside my mind long ago calling me within.

Should they violate my mind? Only I could decide whether it whittled away at my resolve.

My body? Pain came from fear.

A luxury I wouldn’t grant them.

One by one, my fellow prisoners marched onto the stage—some dripping fresh blood, others so vacant I wasn’t sure they still inhabited their vessels. Retreating within themselves, I guessed. Our minds were wired to protect us from atrocities. It was natural to turn inward.

Then Odessa pressed a kiss to Branoc’s cheek and stepped ahead of him in some unspoken agreement.

Without hesitation, she sauntered up the stairs, stroked a hand down the hoddsendi’s shoulder, and strolled straight toward the king.

My breath hitched. I glanced at Kennon, but his eyes tracked his friend as she slowed her pace, her gaze fixed solely on the king.

Like silk, she spooled herself onto the floor beside his chair as the man studied her quizzically.

“Do you prefer men or women, Your Majesty?” A coy smile flashed across her lips.

My skin crawled. Could I… could I subject my body to a monster like that? I wondered as he gave his answer, trailing a finger down her fair cheek.

Death, I decided.

Death was preferable.

“And why,” the king drawled, “would I trust an enemy in my bed?”

She threw back her head and laughed, the sound husky and seductive in all the right ways. “Define enemy, Your Majesty.”

She shifted onto her knees, spreading them wide as she ran her hands up his thighs. The crowd shifted uncomfortably, prisoners glancing at one another in question. Perhaps they were considering what I’d just contemplated.

How far would we go for our lives? For our freedom?

“I do believe you felled one of my most admired captains in Seattle. Does that not warrant the label?”

She slid her hands farther up his legs, and the king allowed it, curiosity painted across his features.

A burning sensation had me lifting my gaze to Adrastos. He sat beside his brother, his eyes fixed firmly on me.

“I’m a shifter, Your Highness.”

“As are all your kin.”

“No,” Odessa breathed as the king sat straighter, his pale hand curling around her throat.

The bold bitch lifted her chin in response.

“A true shifter.”