Page 27 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“That, we have in common,” Cyrus ground out. He retreated to the opposite side of the table from my chair, pulled his out, and collapsed into it as though the sixty seconds he’d been forced to speak to me had cost him dearly. I dropped my gaze.

Throat thick, I was about to brief them on the agenda when the rush of boots over hardwood floors had us all turning sideways.

“Gio?” I asked as our Wing lieutenant entered the room. He looked better than he had in weeks, though grief had lined his eyes ever since a nest led by Marlana and her wretched blight attacked his hometown. We’d brought every available earth wielder to combat her. There had been no survivors.

“Commander,” he said, bowing his head with the same sincere formality he used any time we shared air. “Your brother moved on Austin.”

My stomach dropped. Keeping tabs on August was a full-time job.

Swallowing hard, I lifted my chin. “Thanks, Gio. Give us the report.”

“Maybe it’s best if I show you.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I glanced at Carr, whose stunned face spoke only of the carnage left in August’s path. Everywhere the god of thunder went, he left devastation behind. Brutal. Strategic. But devastating. With boots on the ground, Austin was no different.

After the first siege, August had barked orders—to hold the cities we managed to defend and stay out of his way, mostly—but his moves and countermoves couldn’t be missed. Hierarchies were to guard their territories and work to take back the cities they’d lost. Those who’d maintained their strongholds were to aid those who hadn’t.

One by one, he led the charge to reclaim the cities lost to the Balaskas.

Kade—i.e., the lord of the dead—had provided a battalion for him to command. August left a trail of cadavers in his wake, and the necromancers made quick work of the rest.

But this was different.

Worse.

Corpses hung from metal posts surrounding the city, all bearing patches that indicated rank. He’d found a nest. Warlords, by the look of it. The message left behind was meant for one person.

“Yeah.” All the weight of the war hung in the one word I forced between my lips.

“Think he got what he wanted?” Cyrus asked, eyes trained on the charred remains of buildings.

“No,” I breathed. “If he finds her, he’ll come home.”

“He doesn’t seem particularly interested in being part of the group,” Jo noted from Carr’s other side. No judgment, only calculated observation. Jo was good people. Like Carr, her loathing of Reagan and her tactics lent grace to my betrayal, while the Stuarts were—understandably—still livid.

As usual, she wasn’t wrong. Outwardly, August seemed revolted at the idea of being the goddamn messiah the people were scrambling to honor.

But I knew my brother. He was horrified that so many would voluntarily die for him. “He’s not interested in condemning anyone else to the grief our family is living.”

“He didn’t start the war,” Cyrus noted flatly.

“Looks like he’s single-handedly tryin’ta finish it,” Carr said, swallowing audibly as he took a hesitant step forward. A glimmer of magic tugged my attention sideways, and I turned, scowling at the piles of bodies at the bases of the poles. My focus planted an ache between my brows. Well, that was… peculiar. I’d never seen August or Kade leave the bodies so neatly collected. They preferred the drama of littering the earth with them.

But as Carr began a slow march toward the perimeter, the hair on my neck lifted.

“Hold,” I ordered, and even Cyrus glanced at me before remembering he wasn’t acknowledging my existence.

Carr looked back over one shoulder, concern etched between his eyes. The wind sent his shaggy hair whipping as every instinct in my body screamed one word:

Trap.

Not for us. For them. For the demons and Renown that would come to reclaim the city. I tipped my head up to the still-stormy sky, then back to the poles planted into the scorch-marked earth. A manic laugh bubbled up my throat, and I raised a hand to cover it.

Sloppy. Too obvious. So, what was he distracting them from?

“We wait,” I decided, jerking my head over my shoulder. Carr nodded, flitting back to my side through the shadows. The only indication Cyrus had heard me was his compliance. Without a word, he turned toward the desecration line the Renown had carved around the city’s perimeter. As usual, he was the one to take point, clearing the building I’d gestured to before our people breached.