Page 234 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Mags?”

“Our heiress has been noticeably absent from the field since she invoked the Blood Bond. Whereabouts unknown.” An incremental smirk tugged at his lips, as though that amused him somehow.

“August has her locked away somewhere?”

“A wise man would.” When I just nodded, he continued, “Paladin holds strong to the south, now allied with Bellaton’s forces.”

Freya. Freya had somehow united the warring clans—at least enough to weave together their defenses. And even in the face of it all, they were holding the line.

“They fail to combat the blight entirely, but the concentration of earth wielders has given them an advantage in resisting its effects. The Rockies and Pacific Northwest benefit much the same due to Grayshell and Terramyst. Their distribution of food through rebel networks lends aid to the mortals who can reach the bases—designated checkpoints, guarded by Grayshell sentinels.”

I weighed those words, turning them over. The problem was Moros wouldn’t allow those bases to stand.

Seemingly reading my thoughts, Adrastos added, “They change them—that’s the problem. No two points remain the same from day to day, avoiding ambush. The challenge is relaying the message to mortals who need the supplies without cell service. Thus far, convoys have been their solution, but those are vulnerable even on the best days.”

I paused.

Because I hadn’t even thought of that. And godsdammit, I was loath to admit the bastard had given me more useful news in the last two minutes than I’d gathered since arriving.

“Power was restored to the following cities…” He listed them, along with who held control—the ‘rebels’ or ‘celestials.’ Every major metro seemed a point of contention. Santa Bloom was notably absent from either list. “…their children for the insurance of Balaskas-run cities—the promise of safety, food, and shelter.”

Blinking, I cleared my throat. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I was thinking through the territories claimed. Repeat the last part.”

He held my stare for a long beat—almost as though he’d hoped I wouldn’t notice what I’d missed. Dropping his focus to the floor, Adrastos said, “My siblings have established safe-harbor houses—” He glanced up at me. “—locations where mortals can willingly relinquish their parental rights in order to secure safety, food, and shelter inside Balaskas-run cities.”

I held his dark gaze, waiting for a punchline that never came. “I’m sorry. Did you just ask me if I would hand my children over?”

“Having witnessed the collapse of more than one society, I cannot say I’m at all surprised that mothers will hand off their offspring in an attempt to secure food for them.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s war,” he said simply, an anvil anchoring each syllable. “I fear it isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed the changing of hands, and it won’t be the last.”

“You’re a monster,” I breathed, eyes burning as the reality slammed into me.

“Yes,” he said in resignation, not even bothering to fight me on what that entailed. “I will gather more for you⁠—”

“What happens to them?” I cut in sharply.

“The children?”

I nodded, even as fear settled like a boulder in my throat.

He shrugged. “I do not yet know. It will depend, I suppose.”

“You. Suppose?” I pressed.

“On what Moros deems them fit for.”

“They’re children,” I croaked, eyes watering, desperately searching his for something—anything, any indication of the man I thought I knew.

“And they will be provided for. This was always his endgame, Blythe.”

“To cleave apart families?!” I demanded, my voice warping with something like hysteria.