Page 286 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I’d asked Barry repeatedly to take me to them for exams, but got the same answer every time. Mhairi and the others were looking after the ruling family. I was to attend lesser issues.

Lesser. Issues.

So much for the prized witch of the east—a trained Hazelharborian healer.

Months now, and I’d failed to earn any trust worth noting.

Worse yet, my plans were… complicated by the newfound understanding of the Bonds. The plan remained intact, just… more damning.

I’d focused my idle hands on perfecting my tincture while I waited for the opportunity to present itself, growing painfully aware that the plan would have to work exactly to my calculations.

Failure would be fatal. And not just for me.

I’d have to end the king before his draw on Adrastos could hit Magnolia hard enough to delay their progress to Grayshell. If I failed, it would no doubt be the last thing I ever did.

Which was why, when I pushed open my bedroom door and laid eyes on the prince for the first time in nearly a week, my stomach did its best impression of an acrobat. It flipped harder when I spotted Marlana sprawled across the bed.

Wide-eyed, I snapped my gaze to the devil I knew.

“Your presence has been requested at the banquet tonight,” he said by way of greeting, those dark eyes seeing too much as they scraped over my edges.

Looking between the siblings, I tried to calculate my odds. If anything, Marlana had seemed entertained by my defiance of him, but Adrastos had outlined the rules of our ruse pretty clearly.

Aiming for respectful, if not subservient, I asked, “Why?”

His expression didn’t shift, but Marlana sighed from her place on the bed, rolling onto her stomach to brace her chin in her hands, visibly bored.

Adrastos clearing his throat pulled my attention back to him. “You are to help me win an alliance.”

I wanted to laugh. By some small miracle, I choked it down.

“Our family history is… complicated at best. An estranged relative will arrive within the hour. We discussed this… before.”

Before. Before he nearly died because of a Bond to his brother. Before we thought he’d nearly taken Mags with him. Before he’d tried to warn me when…

When he couldn’t.

Ridiculous. The notion was foolish, and yet…

Holding that dark gaze, I nodded stiffly. “Fine,” I clipped.

“A dress has been provided.”

“You never fail to clothe your pets.”

An indignant snort reminded me we weren’t alone. “No wonder you’re so transfixed. She speaks as if you are below her.”

“I assure you, Miss Briar knows exactly who’s on top.”

“Never told your sister about your propensity to bottom? Lie back and watch while others do the work you’ll take the credit for?” I said sweetly, earning a cackle from Marlana. Misting through the shadows, the witch solidified in front of me, one hand outstretched.

“Careful, witchling. My baby brother might entertain your antics, but I assure you, the king will not.” When I nodded, she smiled with saccharine sweetness, giggling demurely. The sound scraped like a fork tine across burnt steel.

Thinking of Freya, Ally—hell, even Mags lifting her chin in defiance of Aren—I straightened my spine. “And you?”

That smile turned wicked. “I think there’s a reason he’s too selfish to share you. Can’t blame him. You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you? If you were my pet, I wouldn’t want anyone else tasting that cunt either.”

“Thanks?”