Page 135 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

The room stilled. Eyes moved cautiously between August and Reyna as lightning threw harsh shadows over their faces and the sconces flickered feebly.

When August said nothing, Reyna pounced on the silence like a lion on prey. “Because I knew Aren more intimately than most, and I’m tellin’ you now, the man I knew would never endorse the flagrant display of satanic power you’ve unleashed in your wake.”

The silence deepened until the only sounds left were rain against the glass and the low rumble of displeasure from the sky.

Fuck. She hit a sore spot.

“You’re going to have to specify,” August said flatly, but the hair on my arms rose as a charge thickened the air.

“You’ve brought the necromancer into our territories without our consent,” she snarled.

August’s lip twitched before he schooled his expression flat. No amount of control hid the darkening of his eyes—or the answering roar of the sky. “Kade has been nothing but a friend to this delegation.”

“Necrotic magic is inherently satanic.”

The lights flickered, a dull hum threading through the room. “Any weapon is an asset in the right hands.”

“I fundamentally disagree. Death is sacred. Not to be disrupted.”

“And how many cities would still be in their grasp without his aid?”

“The ends do not always justify the means,” she snapped.

A skittering crack launched all of us to our feet, my arm shooting out on instinct to shove Freya behind me as the marble table split beneath August’s braced hands. The crash was deafening.

Naturally, every motherfucker in the room had a weapon out—every one apparently smuggled past the goddamn door check.

I raised both hands and stepped toward the two halves of the table as lightning flared and held beyond the windows, casting the room aglow even as the lights died.

“Easy.” I watched The Great Commander like the livewire he was. We were all one word away from fryin’ like shrimp kabobs.

“Let me make myself clear.” August spoke so slowly it felt like he dragged a blade across my skin, and I wasn’t even the one in his sights. “I am fighting this war in her name—her honor—not because I give a single flying fuck about you or what any of you think of me, but because she cared about the outcome. And as long as I can feel them breaking her apart, I will bestow the same level of agony upon their fucking people, and I will not think twice about using their suffering to send my message to their master.”

“She’s right.”

August stiffened. Freya did too. Every pair of eyes turned to Alec, the lone member still seated, elbows braced on his knees and hands hanging between them.

“Reyna is right.” Reluctantly, like the admission cost him something, Alec lifted his gaze to August, who looked like he’d been slapped. “Aren would never approve of desecrating the dead in the name of war. Sacrilege. He’d call it sacrilege. As for Ally…”

“Alec.”

But the shield ignored the warning in August’s tone. He glanced around the table instead. “Ally explicitly did not trust Kade. She didn’t want to factor them in to begin with.”

“Because she cannot see them,” August growled, disbelief carving into his features. Something sharper lurked beneath the sparks igniting in his eyes. “Ally will not gamble with something she cannot predict.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Kade saved my life. More than once. I owe him a karmic debt, and still he sacrifices his people to defend our cause.”

“He’s one of them!” Alec all but roared, finally surging to his feet. “He’s a goddamn Balaskas, August, and yet you lean on him—call on him—seek his wisdom instead of relying on your own fucking coven.”

A terrible, oily weight settled over the room. Without a word, Marcus waved one hand. Marble knitted itself back together, and the table settled into place with a soft thud.

Everyone stayed standing, hands still on weapons, eyes locked on the two shields staring each other down—both looking betrayed.

“So, that’s what this is about. You’re bitter we’ve left you and Fae on the bench.”

“No, don’t be petty.”