Page 102 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“What?” August balked. Beside him, citrine irises did their best to drill a hole into my face. Still, Cyrus said nothing.

Cadoc’s gaze lifted to mine, sly and satisfied. “I’m pleased to hear that, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t get too excited, Cadoc,” I drawled with a smirk, cocking my head to mimic the way he studied me. I looked between his sons, landing on the eldest. Atreus’ eyes sparked with challenge. “I have demands of my own.”

EIGHTEEN

BUYING TIME

MAGNOLIA

Wake, child. Loud. Everything was loud—popping, cracking, creaking—and the air was thick and… wicked. It burned my chest. My throat. Blinking, my room came into focus—brighter than it should’ve been. Half asleep, I scowled at the strangeness surrounding me as the walls trembled, seeming to swell and shudder. My gaze caught on the hooded figure at the end of my bed—face hidden, pale hand extended toward me. Come, child. Quickly.

The hooded figure liked corners. Always tucked into their shadows, watching. Waiting. He played with me when the other girls called me names, told me their mean words couldn’t hurt me.

Liar, they called me.

Crazy, others said. Because they couldn’t see the hooded man, or his strange hands, white as paper beneath heavy sleeves. They couldn’t see the spirits he cloaked in his odd magic or hear the kind words he offered when they were afraid. Couldn’t hear the voices whispering through the shadows around us.

Now, Magnolia, he snapped, his voice almost… scolding. Scared?

But I smelled it then—smoke, thick and sickening. I whipped my head back toward my door, where the seams glowed orange.

Fire. Our house was on fire.

Coughing, I scrambled from my bed. I didn’t turn toward the nameless man. I bolted for my door. For Mom.

No! he bellowed. A strong arm hooked around me just as my fingers brushed scalding metal, crushing my ribs against a hard body. A scream tore from my throat as my room disappeared in a swirl of color.

“Mommy!” I cried as my feet met cold grass, eyes widening as I took in our engulfed house. No sounds came from within. Only the roar of the inferno filled the space. “I have to get her out! Please! Help me!”

The cloaked man’s cold arms released me, then icy hands spun me around and gripped my face. Listen to me, he said into my mind, you cannot save her, little one.

But his words made no sense. Mom was brave and clever. There was no way she wouldn’t come out. We’d practiced for this. We…

Where were the alarms? Mom said if there was fire there would be alarms. We… we practiced.

“Mom?” I said, my voice wet and crackly, the effort of speaking burning through my chest. “Mom?” I sobbed again, coughing harshly. But the hooded figure was shaking his head, his icy fingers stroking down my cheeks.

You cannot save her, dear one. You cannot go back. Do you hear me?

“Mom?” I croaked, somehow aware the hooded man pitied me. Aware I didn’t like it. Aware it… it meant… “Mom?” I cried, this time for him.

Shhhh, Magnolia, you must be quiet. We cannot let him hear you. His cool palms cradled my face, and to my surprise, he tugged me into his chest, as if he could shield me from the answer I couldn’t make myself ask…

Blinding white sliced across my retinas. I squinted against it and tried to swallow. Failed. Dry. Everything was dry. My throat, my mouth, my eyes. Wake up, child.

Death. Death was everywhere. I could hardly open my eyes. My fingers rose stiffly to my face and found swollen skin, puffy with fluid. My eyes were nearly sealed shut.

Panic jolted through me. I jerked my head, my stiff neck fighting the movement. Portia. She was beside me, still passed out against the scaled white expanse of sand and bones. Above us? A… cloak? Tent? Dark fabric hung in a makeshift canopy, just enough to keep the blinding sun from hitting us directly.

Coughing, I rolled onto my stomach and dragged my limp body toward Portia’s rucksack beside her. Toward the water inside.

Easy, little one, Death whispered, one gaunt white hand extended, the canteen resting impossibly in his palm. Odd. Death never touched me. Never helped me, not since…

I blinked.

Not since he’d gotten me out of that house. Refused to retrieve my mother. Because… because she’d already been dead. He’d been there to collect her, I realized, and came for me instead.