Page 131 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

My breath stuttered. I dragged in air and spat, “You’re the devil.”

So, we have an understanding, then? Aloud, he explained, “My Fiona has been thrust into a bit of a predicament.” He released his hold on my jaw, his shadows still wrapped around his body like cloth as he backed down the steps into the small pool, steam mingling with his magic in a wreath swirling around him.

Eyes imploring, he held out one hand—a silent demand that I follow.

Really, what choice did I have? He’d do it. If this was urgent enough, he’d track Mags down and force her to kneel. And over my dead body would these monsters get their hands on my sister too.

“You see, witchling… my brother has always had a proclivity for taking things that aren’t his.” Another step backward into the water. This time, I followed, biting back my hiss at the temperature. “In particular, the things I find most precious in the world.” Another step, his eyes never leaving mine, even as my mouth parted, reluctantly descending into the nearly scalding water, now up to my thighs. “Those I most cherish are always coveted by my siblings.”

Unease twisted in my belly as I tore my gaze from him to the women around us. Which one was Fiona? And was he implying what I thought he was? None of them looked particularly traumatized, happily on display as they were.

“After all, what the king wants, the king gets,” he said as we took the final step down, water now stinging my skin clear to my ribs. The anger threaded through those words dragged my focus back to the betrayer.

There.

Encompassed in swaths of spiraling steam, I saw it—him. His shadows vanished, leaving a broad expanse of muscled, scarred, tattooed skin… and Bellamy.

Stripped bare in body and, somehow, soul, the man looking down at me was the one who’d appeared in that alley and cleaved a Renown in two. The one who’d held me against his chest while I sobbed into the hard planes of war-honed muscle.

“Come, sunshine, dance with me.” He’d held out his hand right there in Mags’ kitchen. One snap of his fingers, and the stereo had started playing. A reluctant smile had lifted my cheeks as I reached for him, my breath hitching when his rough fingers curled around mine.

Bellamy pulled me against him, and for the first time since I’d known him, he played. The movements weren’t graceful, weren’t trained as Aren’s had been at the pub with Magnolia. It certainly couldn’t be called dancing, so much as thrashing. They were… silly, for lack of a better word.

As I let him sway me side to side, spinning me in nonsensical circles, laughter had found me—much to the familiars’ amusement. Hell, I hadn’t been sure I would ever laugh again after we lowered Zehra and Sorin into the earth. And the smile that sound brought to his face…

I blinked the memory away, legs shaking as his broad hands settled on my shoulders.

“Take a breath,” he ordered. I obeyed as his intent became clear, my body going rigid while he lowered me into the water and pulled me under.

Magic rippled down my limbs and across the surface, a tingling heat wrapping around my throat below that godsdamned collar. Images flashed through my mind in a blur of light and color, much too quickly to make sense of, and then he was hauling me above the surface. Through it all, the stone he’d draped around my neck in his very public claiming sat heavy against my chest, unnaturally still.

I spluttered, clutching his arms to steady myself. The betrayer moved faster, whisking the water away before pushing my hair back from my face with both hands.

Heat climbed my neck as his eyes traveled down my drenched body, the fabric now clinging in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Then came that self-satisfied smirk. I got the distinct impression I’d just passed some kind of test.

“I told you she could be trusted,” he said over his shoulder at the catty blonde.

“For now,” the bitch bit back, scowling like she was liable to break my neck. “That enchantment only proves so much.”

“And your attitude proves exhausting,” he drawled, irritated. He led me to the chestnut-haired one who’d been draped across the marble, her eyes now wide, lip trembling. “Fi, this is Blythe.” Somehow, it felt sincere, that offering. Like he really had brought me here to help, not to torment me. And what enchantment was placed on the pool? Some kind of truth spell? A concealment charm? It occurred to me that perhaps they were all naked not for pleasure but…

So nothing could be hidden.

There it was again—that pathetic corner of my brain trying to justify. Rationalize. Understand the logic of a monster.

Silver lined Fiona’s eyes as she straightened, scooting across the marble until she draped her legs into the water. She gave a little shove off the surround and into the pool. At her full height, she was taller than me, but only just. With a quivering chin, Fiona reached for my hand, guiding me toward her belly—lower. I nearly yanked my hand back—afraid this was indeed some bizarre orgy party I certainly did not sign up for—when my magic snapped forward, latching on to the beginnings of something new.

My eyes jerked to hers, my mouth falling open as a lone tear slid down her cheek. Her lips wobbled. “Can you help me?”

I looked at Bellamy. His jaw had set like concrete, arms folded tight across his chest.

“A minute alone, please,” I snapped, but Fiona only clutched my hand tighter, pressing it to her heart.

“He knows.” She nodded tearfully. “I serve the prince, Dr. Briar. My line has always served the true Hadriana heirs.” She said it with such conviction, as though it should mean something to me.

“I will not rob you of your baby on his command.”

“My choice,” she said firmly. “It’s my choice, Dr. Briar. I confided in the prince, and he swore to me he knew someone who could be trusted to help.”