Page 79 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I pinned her with the stare I reserved for our most stubborn souls—the ones who weren’t quite grasping the stakes of a mission.

“Look, Mags, I can only imagine how brutal it is to trust someone like that, only for them to turn on you⁠—”

Cyrus’s gaze snapped toward me, cold and hard as stone.

I did my best to ignore it.

If he wanted to be childish about it and never speak to me again, fine. But he wasn’t going to make me question my judgment.

I got him out.

I got him out before Nix could break him permanently.

Anyone who had a problem with me freeing my mate from a literal torture chamber could suck my clit.

I wasn’t apologizing for it.

“—but we have to look at the facts,” I continued. “Adrastos engineered this just as he engineered everything else. Centuries, Mags. He’s been playing this game for centuries. He orchestrated August’s death in our previous incarnations. I’m sorry, but there isn’t a chance in hell he fled to you after the battle because you’re his safe space. He came to secure his last potential asset in the prophecy. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to risk meeting the Grim Reaper if it gave him a chance to manipulate you into invoking the Blood Bond.”

“You think he nearly died getting us to the portal on purpose?”

“I’m saying that if tiptoeing along the line between worlds were necessary for me to see a mission through, I’d do it. If he needed you on a leash, manipulating you into a bargain would be his best option. And what better way to convince you to agree to something foolish than by serving you a heaping platter of shame?”

“No.” She shook her head again. “No. He was perfectly clear about that. He said there was no worse fate than magical enslavement. That I’d jeopardized my safety by binding us together. He was pissed about it.”

“Was he?” I challenged, my irritation growing at her naïveté. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be ruthless. I said it wouldn’t surprise me. The man’s clairvoyance surpasses Ally’s.”

“Not on this.”

Certain.

Steady.

No hint that my words had whittled away even a sliver of her resolve.

“There’s no way. Besides, the risk to him outweighs mine. Hell, as far as I can determine, I could theoretically order him not to invoke the Magic Bond until a specified date. I could order his silence, preventing him from invoking it at all. I would simply have to act faster than he does.”

“Theory isn’t particularly reassuring right now,” Portia noted, her keen eyes still trained on the healer. “Maybe the delegation isn’t that far off base.”

“He’s a master manipulator,” I said, working to soften my voice. “He always has been.”

Magnolia had been through hell during the last four months.

If I were in her shoes, I’d find it hard to trust anyone. Anything.

That had to be exhausting.

Even more exhausting than trying to separate enemies from allies inside my own stolen hierarchy.

At least I had Grayshell.

At least Grayshell was something solid.

Dependable.

This woman had lost her coven, and the survivors were scattered. She’d held her mate as he died. I knew from experience that wasn’t something a soul could simply get over—and Cyrus was still standing beside me. Better breathing and hating me than dead inside that vault.

That chamber.