Page 65 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Vaguely aware that the path he’d chosen was wrong.

Because my threads were humming.

Stay, they seemed to whisper. Queen of the forgotten.

I jerked to a stop in the threshold, the fleeing Bellpost souls parting around me like water around stone.

“Healer,” the king croaked, ichor soaking his armor and painting his clothing black.

My gaze snapped around the room.

Only guards were closing in on the Bellpost king.

Not a healer in sight.

“Here!” I blurted, the word tearing from my throat as I yanked my arm free of the captain’s grasp.

“Briar,” Bartholomew snapped.

He sounded like Barry again. Like the man who’d loved my sister. Like a man with something to lose.

But I didn’t look back as I surged into the crowd, jostled by souls racing in the opposite direction.

I would contemplate that later.

“Healer!” the guards bellowed.

“Here!” I shouted, more determined this time.

Failure would ensure my death. Marlana and her loyalists would see to that.

But the insufferable cretin’s threads were certain—a lifeline still shone brightly from his heart center. There was merely enough blood to make it appear otherwise.

“Here!” I yelled again, thrusting one hand into the air.

This time, people noticed. They surged out of my path as I raced across the gathering hall as quickly as my restraints allowed.

“No,” the king gasped, scowling at me like I was a bug he’d failed to crush.

My magic gave the gentlest pull on his blood flow, encouraging his hammering heart and sending black blood spurting between his fingers.

“Then die, arrogant fool,” I snapped as the light seemed to drain from the room. “I assure you, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

One guard lunged at me with a snarled, “Bitch!”

I read the intent in his livid eyes an instant before the crack sounded.

My head snapped sideways with such force that the ground disappeared beneath my feet.

A warm, broad hand closed around my arm and wrenched me upright, a jolt of heat keeping me from striking the marble. I was pulled sideways, another hand settling on my shoulder to steady me before I could process what in the Seven Sisters had just happened.

Blinking away the tears burning my eyes, I sucked in a breath and followed that muscled arm up.

And up.

To a livid Adrastos.

His bloodied scowl could’ve incinerated me. The moment I met it, however, his gaze snapped past my shoulder toward the captain.