Page 166 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“And why do I feel like I should already know?” Mags added.

Jason was already half-undressed, shoving his pants down in the next motion. With a burst of light, the man vanished and the jaguar took his place, quick to pad toward the crumbling stairs without disturbing so much as a pebble.

Lana and Brody forked off in the opposite direction, surveying a shadowed alcove to our left.

“Because you, of all of us, should,” I whispered back.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Her fingers tightened around mine, and I cursed how easily that simple reassurance eased my breathing. I should’ve been pissed she’d come after us—pissed she’d put herself in so much danger, especially with the prophecy fresh in my mind.

But I couldn’t summon the anger. Not for her. Besides, there was a decent probability either Jason or I would be dead if she hadn’t come.

Perhaps this was our second chance. An unforeseen fork in fate’s path.

Even I wasn’t naïve enough to believe it, try as I might.

So there I was, clinging to that simple contact and the steady thrum of her power against mine.

“Aren,” Lana barked. “Here.”

The three of us followed her voice, stepping over the trickling stream cutting through the marble and trying not to tread on the curious vines.

“I thought this shit looked too familiar,” Lana snapped without waiting for us to catch up.

We stepped into the darkened space, our footsteps suddenly muffled. Perfectly preserved red-and-gold rugs lined the floor over slick black stone. To our left, the wall was crowded with artwork—paintings, tapestries, and charcoal portraits depicting everything from battle to what I could only assume were the last royals before this hierarchy crumbled. Curiosity had me scouring each one for familiar faces. But the portrait Lana stood before, her expression gone solemn, froze us all.

“Look at the colors, Aren. It all feels rather familiar, doesn’t it?”

It did. But I wasn’t looking at the unscathed décor. I wasn’t even going to try to quell Lana’s blatant anger, the betrayal sharpening every word.

Because Adrastos Balaskas stared down at us from a magical rendering, the likeness unmistakable despite the life in his eyes having blinked out centuries ago. Only the most powerful souls could successfully wield an enchantment like this. A gold crown sat on his head, small rubies lining the band.

Beside him sat a young girl of equal beauty. She shared his olive skin and raven-black hair, but where his dark eyes sparked with mischief, solemn responsibility hardened hers. It wasn’t even the weight in her expression that held me captive. Hell, it wasn’t the gold tiara either, though a living flame seemed to burn at its center.

It was her eyes—a striking shade of emerald-green.

THIRTY-TWO

BARGAINS

BLYTHE

“There,” I chirped, passing my palm over Coraline’s knee and vanquishing the scrape altogether. “All better.”

The witchling hopped off my table with such enthusiasm I couldn’t help but mirror her jubilant smile. Apparently, the king had demanded his brother loan me out to the healer’s wing.

Luckily for me, it got me the hell out of that bedroom and kept my hands busy. Silver linings and all that.

“Will I see you tonight? At the ball?”

“I have duties to attend to.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her mother appeared in the doorway, wearing the kind of exhaustion only childrearing could manage.

I guessed the girl was approximately eleven and full of that unbridled enthusiasm life liked to beat out of you. Her magic was beginning to thrum in her veins, and I wondered what gifts she’d emerge with when the time came.

She bounced up and down, clinging to my hand and whining, “You must come! It’s the event of the year!” I decided on air magic. Strong air elementals always had a proclivity for socializing. “Mummy says you’re a guest of the prince. Make him bring you!”

I barked out a laugh as her mother’s eyes widened in mute horror. I gave her a gentle shake of my head—a silent vow the remark wouldn’t get back to my keeper. “I don’t think many people could make the prince do much of anything,” I said gently, guiding her toward the threshold.

“He’s spectacularly partial toward chess. I’d wager if you won a round, he’d let you do about anything.”