Page 309 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

You spare her for him?

And for you, she said simply. Kin of his kin.

Why?

Love, golden one. Now, you must leave.

Magnolia

Rhiannon’s curse only strengthened when the portal darkened.

The hiss and rustle of her plants devoured more of the dilapidated castle, as though urging us onward—guiding us through a side passage, then sealing it behind us with branches that barred reentry.

Which left Jason, Rika, and me behind the broad shoulders of Aren and Brody on a crumbling step—the apex of what I could only assume had once been a narrow staircase to the ground below—encompassed entirely in green. The far side of the castle might’ve risen from the desert, but you’d never know it from here. A jungle towered overhead beneath a great canopy of massive emerald leaves. Their whispering movements were the only warning these weren’t normal plants. Gentle light slipped through minuscule gaps, slicing the mist in buttery columns of warmth.

“This doesn’t look like a shadowed thicket,” Brody noted.

“That’s because it’s not,” Aren said, eyes still scouring skyward, though I wasn’t sure if it was in awe or surveillance. Perhaps both.

I kept my eyes on him, waiting for his analysis.

“This is still Rhiannon’s magic.” As if in confirmation, one of the vines unfurled behind us, reached out, and shoved him in the back. He chuckled darkly. “We’re going, Majesty.” But he didn’t budge, still transfixed on the enchantments surrounding the castle. The vine slithered across the back of his black armor toward his wrist.

“Aren,” I warned.

“We’re leaving,” he breathed, almost urgent as he hopped down from the stoop to the thick grass below. Jason leapt past him in one graceful bound, padding down the narrow pathway illuminated by those slices of golden light, as though Rhiannon herself had marked our way out. Why she would show us favor, I wasn’t entirely sure—or convinced, for that matter. I still half expected a trap to snap closed around us. Brody joined Aren, and they both turned for Rika and me, hands extended.

Heart in my throat, I sucked down a breath and reached for him. Aren’s broad palms settled firmly on my waist, and then he turned, setting me lightly on the plush grass.

“Quickly,” he warned, eyeing the canopy above us as it rustled and swayed.

I feel like we’re being watched, Rika said mind-to-mind.

Because we are, I noted. He’s too alert.

Agreed.

Stay close.

She stepped in tight behind Brody, and I strengthened my grip on Aren’s hand as he led us after Jason. The farther down the path we went, the more oily, petal-soft leaves brushed my skin. Others weren’t as gentle, slicing paper-thin fissures along my arms. Eventually, we were forced into single file, my pulse quickening as even the canopy seemed to close around us, the air thick with moisture and the wail of shifting trunks. Rika and Brody were babbling about something, but I was too busy fighting to keep my breathing steady.

And failing.

Chest heaving faster, I started thumbing a soothing circuit over Aren’s hand. Because he was real. Here. Touching me again—or at least allowing it—and guiding me through this contracting nightmare. I thought nothing could feel worse than that godscursed desert, but as the flora slowly collapsed around us, I yearned for the wide-open dunes.

“Tell me about the front line,” Aren said softly.

I sucked down a breath, stilling my thumb over his hand as I thought back to the last updates I’d had.

“August is still… brutal. Staggeringly so. But not without strategy—everything he does results in something. A withdrawal, a new hostage, a shift in positions. At minimum, he punches holes through their defenses, allowing the rebels to swarm through.”

“Good man,” he said softly.

“They call him a god.”

I didn’t miss the edge of irritation in his next question. “What of Ally?”

“He burned more nests out in the week you were gone. Dozens, Aren—burned them from within, driving them into the blades of the resistance. If their well didn’t overwhelm him and the storms didn’t alert even the mortals, I don’t think any survivors would exist.” I winced as something nicked my arm, glaring down at the dry, gnarled branch.