Page 170 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“I think you’ve spent your entire life collecting information, and now I would like you to do it for a cause larger than either of us.”

“You know nothing about me if you think I would ever help you.”

The fire in his eyes and the immediate quirk of his smile painted me a fool. “Keep telling yourself that, darling. But in the meantime, I am not beyond forcing you to bend a knee if it means I get what I need.” He stalked toward me, movements slow and steady. “Tonight, I need you to shut that smart mouth and do what only you can do—listen. Study. Learn anything and everything you can about the men in that room. Bring me what I need, and I’ll return the favor.”

“Unless you’ve prepared a way out of here for me and Ally, I need nothing from you.”

That smile turned ruinous as he continued his prowl. I held my ground, heat flaring in my chest as I realized I’d played directly into his hands. “You need access to information. Namely, a connection to what’s going on outside these walls. For nearly four months, you’ve been shut off from your people—your sisters. Do this for me, and I will bring you weekly updates on the war and the players left standing.” He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tip my chin up to hold his gaze.

“Like I could believe a word that comes out of your traitorous fucking mouth.”

He shrugged, teeth rolling gently over his lower lip. “Such language. What you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you, witchling. Believe me or don’t; that’s your prerogative. But that’s the bargain I’m offering.”

“Bargain?”

“You didn’t think I collected all that ink for fun, now, did you?”

Eyes narrowed, I bit out, “Daily.”

“Pardon me?”

“Daily updates. You put me on your arm like a worm on a lure, I gather whatever information drunkards reveal to a captive outsider”—I widened my eyes to underscore the absurdity—“and you bring me daily updates from the front. Grayshell, Hazelharbor, August, their allies. I expect to know what’s happening to them all.”

“You’re not in the position to negotiate.”

“You know the best thing about having nothing and being no one?” I lifted my chin, straightening his tie with a jerk before smoothing it flat. “There’s nothing to lose.” I spider-walked my fingers toward his shoulder. “You want to humiliate me, take your best shot. You want to dangle fresh bait because they’ve grown wary of your whores? I’m making you an offer. Take it or leave it.”

Slowly, that smile widened, scraping down my nerves as he opened the door. “Twenty minutes. Don’t make me wait.”

THIRTY-THREE

VIKTOR

FREYA

135:07:00:00

“Your home is incredible,” I offered as Atreus kissed my knuckles—evidently mandatory. He called this place ‘the cabin,’ but the name was laughable. Monstrous. Hell, I could park Luminark Manor in the foyer and still have room to walk around. With the massive log pillars and warm stone, ‘the chalet’ or ‘the lodge’ would’ve been more fitting.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Freya,” I bit out. “Just, Freya.”

“As you wish.” Atreus straightened from his ridiculous bow and surveyed the retinue Carr insisted on bringing. Half a dozen shadows remained outside at their posts. Just as many trailed in behind me. “Can I get a round of drinks for your entourage?”

I snorted, but Carr beat me to it with a curt, “No.”

“You’re our guests. I insist.”

“Insist all you want. The answer won’t change.”

“Perhaps I just enjoy making you scowl, Carrson.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

“And yet you treat the usurper with such respect.”

“Watch yourself, Hawthorne.”