Page 82 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“But Brody and Lana have been silent⁠—”

August raised one hand, cutting my protest short.

I bowed my head and surrendered the floor.

“Cyrus is right. The Grayshell party doesn’t know what’s coming for them. We have no choice—we must contact them. And since none of us has connected with our soul in at least forty-eight hours, we need another way to provide aid.”

“And they need a healer,” Magnolia declared. “So I’m going.”

My eyes slid closed.

Fuckity fucking fuck.

“Allegedly, they’ll need a healer,” August said, “but I’m not particularly thrilled by the prospect of sending our best.”

“Frankly, August⁠—”

“I’m not finished.”

His tone remained patient but firm. His eyes settled on hers as he drew another measured breath.

“That being said, you’re fucked if you encounter Adrastos. Simple as that. With a single word, he could make you take your own life—or one of ours. I’m certain the delegation considered that risk unacceptable.”

When Magnolia’s expression turned mutinous, August hurried to continue.

“Let me be clear. Whether Adrastos manipulated you into this position or not, now that you’ve invoked the Bond, he will find a way to use it against you. And if you’re struggling to reconcile the man you knew with the one who ran my mate through on that goddamned city street, picture his brother whenever one of us speaks of his ruthlessness. If Moros discovers the power Adrastos holds over the final member of the prophecy, he will force his brother to use it.”

“So what are you saying, August?”

“I’m saying that no matter how we slice it, we’re being served a shit pie. Either I keep you here, you hate me while the delegation locks you inside the bunker, and I find someone else to catch up with the Grayshell party—someone capable of covering a week’s distance in fewer than four days—or I send the best goddamned healer any of us has ever seen into a dimension cursed to keep outsiders away and pray for the best.

“There’s no winning here, Mags. But we have to send reinforcements. Trap or not, we cannot risk failure. The mission is too vital. Ally said it was too vital. And you…”

His voice sounded as though he’d dragged it across sandpaper.

His gaze dropped to the ancient timepiece in his palm. He traced the broken glass again, nodding faintly as he considered his decision.

I shifted on my feet, jaw clenched as we waited for his final ruling.

“And you have to get—and remain—out of reach,” he continued. “While I agree with Freya that all of this feels intentionally manipulated, I don’t see how Adrastos could lie in wait for you while simultaneously wreaking havoc here. He can’t trek from Grayshell to Hazelharbor while fighting on Earth any more than the rest of us can.

“You’re probably a hell of a lot safer in The Middle than anywhere I could hide you Earthbound.”

August looked toward Cyrus, who still stood beside Magnolia with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You said they used the shadows to move between Bellpost and Ardensia?”

Cyrus gave a sharp nod.

August echoed the motion, though his was one of quiet contemplation rather than curt confirmation.

Slowly, a smile tugged at his mouth.

He shook his head as though this entire shitshow were somehow amusing. It was the same ironic expression he’d worn in his Jeep when he picked me up from camp after Cyrus—Crew, at the time—almost died in that lake.

“Good thing you can walk through shadows, Miss Green.”

FIFTEEN