Page 77 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

He paused, his expression grim.

“Rika can’t heal them all fast enough alone. We lose the party, we lose the war.”

FOURTEEN

SHIT PIE

FREYA

127:02:12:09

“Twice in one night? What could I possibly have done to earn the honor?” I deadpanned as August stormed into the war room at Luminark Manor.

The whisper of chairs sliding across hardwood told me my companions had risen with me.

When I turned, Portia’s box braids were still swaying as she stood at attention. The woman remained as vigilant as our familiars—always watching, quick to strategize, and even quicker to deploy a trick if her shadows detected any sign we’d been compromised.

She was adept at playing the games of court but preferred fucking around with the Wings in the ring over politicking.

I couldn’t say I disagreed.

Her sharp eyes tracked August as he took stock of everyone gathered around the table.

Beside her, Orion stood like an oak. In many ways, he was her antithesis. Where Portia excelled at subterfuge and pattern recognition, Orion operated on instinct and militant protocol. A sharp-eyed watchman. The lone remaining Guardian from Reagan’s court.

Now a free man, my old friend rounded the table while the others found their feet, one hand already extended toward my brother. August accepted it with a nod. Only when August stepped forward did I notice the witch behind him. Her hands anxiously twisted together before her chest.

Cyrus and Carr both straightened as she moved to stand beside the Great Commander.

“Mags?” I blinked when she offered an awkward half salute. “What the hell brings you two to our neck of the woods?”

I glanced toward August. Tactical suit. No armor. One sword. Two daggers. One glowing Glock.

Alert, as all of us were around the clock, but not battle-ready.

And when the hell had he cut his hair?

Mags carried no visible weapons, but everyone in the room knew something lethal lurked beneath that polished healer’s skin.

No souls followed in their wake.

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to enjoy this?” Orion asked beside me.

August’s heavy emerald gaze settled on my face. “We need to talk. You, me, and Ciaran.”

“It’s a trap. Full stop.”

A better woman wouldn’t have noticed the reverence in Cyrus’s eyes when he looked at Magnolia twenty minutes later.

A better woman would’ve set aside the fact that my mate was staring at her that way while our enemy played with the witch like she was dangling from a goddamned marionette.

But I’d never claimed to be a good woman, let alone a better one.

And judging by the pulse roaring in my ears, I didn’t fucking like it one bit.

“Agreed,” I said.

Blunt.