Page 64 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

My eyes begged to remain on that endless ocean horizon, but my feet stumbled over pits and stones as I scrambled to keep pace with his long, urgent strides. Without warning, the captain bent and swept me into his arms, pulling us through the shadows to the front steps of what I could now more accurately describe as a palace.

Nausea twisted my stomach as he planted my feet on the top step and shoved me through the doors. The shackles around my ankles chafed while I struggled to keep up.

“Hurry, Briar,” he hissed, his gaze darting from side to side as he surveyed the empty, cavernous foyer.

I obeyed, if only because I wanted him to take me outside again the next time he saw an opportunity. The fresh air had been godssent, but more importantly, it was my first chance to survey the grounds. Every outing could offer another fragment of information Ally and I desperately needed if we were ever going to escape.

At least I now knew one route from my room to the regal entryway.

Twin staircases curved upward before parting above a dark hallway. A chandelier the size of my Jeep cast fractured rainbows across the marble floors and towering columns. Candles burned in sconces every few feet, their flames throwing harsh shadows along the corridor.

We’d finally reached the ballroom—the captain’s destination, apparently, judging by the way his shoulders dropped and his breath escaped in a rush—when a commotion erupted over breakfast.

The gate.

Like our homes in The Middle, Bellpost had enchanted a gate in the corner of its gathering hall through which a select handful of souls could jump in and out.

Blue light flared from it as a blur of navy and white all but stumbled through.

It took a heartbeat for my mind to register the gold-fletched arrow protruding from Moros’ shoulder.

Then screams and gasps shattered the silence as a second arrow flew through the portal just as it closed.

A hiss sounded, and black blossomed across the demon’s neck as he spun and dropped his shoulder to avoid the shot. The arrow merely sliced the bastard’s skin before burying itself between a bystander’s eyes.

The man dropped dead before his knees struck the marble.

Wide-eyed, Moros slapped a hand to his neck as dark, tainted blood poured from the wound. He staggered into the nearest table when his balance failed, blinking furiously as a wet rasp clawed its way up his chest.

Chaos erupted.

Some fled. Most seized weapons against an attacker who could no longer follow.

Two guards rushed toward their king.

The captain’s grip tightened around my arm as he pulled me away, but the threads had gone wild.

Everywhere I looked, metallic ropes of fate shimmered and danced through the air, their magic vibrating around me.

This was one of those moments.

Pivotal.

A moment carrying unspeakable, irreparable weight.

While I couldn’t see the fates beyond those threads as Ally could, I could see that they weren’t short.

No. The ropes quivering through that suspended moment extended well beyond this seemingly eternal heartbeat.

The hair rose along my neck as something tugged at my center, urging me toward my enemy.

Godsdammit.

The rest of the world seemed to freeze. To pause.

My attention narrowed on Moros as pain registered in his black eyes. Slowly, the whites returned and the dark veins receded.

I was only vaguely aware of boots striking marble. Of bodies rushing past me. Of my feet stumbling to keep up as the captain dragged me from the archway.