Page 23 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Can we talk about the nightmares?”

Her eyes turned foggy as he wrapped his gifts around her memories and crushed.

“Nightmares?” she whispered.

“You told Dr. Blackwell that you see things when you close your eyes. Pictures and videos of people. Videos of me, even. Can we talk about what happens in those dreams?”

She smirked, the expression holding so much contempt that he didn’t need to read her mind to know she still hadn’t let go.

But there was enough distrust in what she knew to be true that her lips quivered for a moment.

“He’ll kill you for this.”

“Who?”

“August.”

Her body flared as she spoke his name, her power a palpable force locked beneath her skin, beating against its restraints.

She whispered the next words more to herself than to him. “He’ll come for me.”

“Okay. Good. So August is here to protect you?”

Her throat bobbed, her swallow audible. She gave a small nod before recognition flashed in her eyes again—the realization that perhaps she shouldn’t be telling him what she knew. That she needed to protect them.

“He kills you in the end.”

She said it with such cold certainty that Moros knew she’d been watching the same visions his brother had warned him about. The one where the god of lightning arrived and decimated every inch of this place.

“It sounds like this August wants to protect you. To keep you safe. I want that too, Alvara. I want to be your friend. Will you let me be your friend?” He held her beneath his stare until she eventually looked up at him from beneath a deep scowl. Slowly, the anger in her gaze dissipated, and something resembling longing settled in its place.

“Are you lonely, Alvara? Sometimes I feel lonely.”

“I am not alone.”

He nodded gently, schooling his features into understanding. “I know. We’ll make it better, okay?”

He reached forward to touch her face—to wipe away the blood—but her resolve broke. Indignation roared within her eyes, as though her power were a single breath away from shattering the poison caging it inside her. With a snarl, she reared back and hurled herself forward.

He heard the crack before pain lanced through him.

Blinding white light burst across his vision.

“Bitch!” The snarl escaped before he could stop it. He clapped one hand over his nose and split lip as blood poured down his face.

Alvara smiled.

She lifted a hand to wipe the blood from her face, and even through the blinding pain, he could see that her fingers remained steady. She sucked her long fingers clean while he pressed his palm against his screaming face.

“You will not break me, Moros Balaskas.”

Through the raging pain, the king stared her down, examining the unshaken certainty in her eyes.

Then the king smiled.

Not a joyful thing. Nor a beautiful one.

No, he smiled in victory, because this bitch had no idea what it meant to break.