Page 402 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Well, you would say that. It’s in your territory,” Reyna pointed out.

“Christ, Reyna, it goes beyond that and you know it,” Marcus rumbled. “This is as much about giving the rebels hope as it is acquiring the resource.”

“Stop being so goddamn obtuse,” Cali agreed. Perhaps this was exactly what Aren kept Reyna on the docket for: to sow dissent, shake loose what needed to be brought into the light.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Watch yours, Aunt.”

“Guys,” I growled. “Focus or shut up.”

“I’m tryin’,” Cyrus griped. “Her belligerence makes it hard.”

I stifled my smirk. “We take back New York, because the survivors have summoned us. Because they hang those chimes from bridges and steel columns in the rubble as a sign that they haven’t given up yet.” I didn’t add that we should take it back for Ally—for her love of the city and the resilience of its people. “We don’t give up on them, either.”

“Fine,” Reyna snapped. “Let’s talk exfil.”

“That, I’ll defer to you. We may have an unknown number of prisoners to extract with us. The girls are the priority in the worst-case scenario, but best-case, we’ll be bringing more souls home to Terramyst and Westerlund alike.”

“So, he’s smarter than he looks,” Reyna purred, leaning back. “We can bring them to Bellaton, but I would suggest an alternative safe house as my flyers are identifiable, and so are the Paladins. We need a safe harbor they won’t necessarily look in.”

Atreus cleared his throat, earning a huff of irritation from Carrson. “Maybe I can help.”

“Of course, you can, pretty boy.” Carr rolled his eyes as he leaned back, glaring at his new metal arm as he crossed it over the flesh and blood one. That had to be one hell of an adjustment.

“We have the lodge and can wear Southerners’ uniforms. They’re not all that different from ours.”

“You’ve got the space for it,” Cyrus pointed out—grudgingly. “But your security is shit.”

“Then beef it up,” Atreus said, unfazed. “Any motherfucker stupid enough to breach knows they’ll die the moment they’re inside the keep. If you’re talking about keepin’ people out, do what you need to. Isn’t that how this whole alliance thing works? I’ve saved your ass; it’s about time you save mine.”

All Cyrus had to do was look up at Orion, who dipped his chin. “Done.”

“That brings us back to our prior issue, though,” Fae cut in, staring longingly at Winnie. “Do we have enough geomancers to do both?”

I looked at Atreus, who just raised a shoulder.

“Well. That inspires confidence,” Reyna drawled. “So, as resources are limited, if it comes down to reclaimin’ Manhattan or reclaimin’ your mate, what’s the priority, Commander Porter?”

“Alvara,” came unanimously from every corner of the room. Marcus, Kingsley, Kade, Freya, Cyrus, Lana, Alec, even Sire all declared their intention in one word. It hit my chest like a battering ram, the bridge of my nose burning.

Nodding, I agreed, “Alvara. It’s what Aren would do.”

“Agreed,” Alec said.

“Once she and Ms. Briar are secured, we can attack the rest with a vengeance. Assuming Moros is keeping her close, our siege of House Balaskas could bring the entire war to an end.”

Alec leaned forward. “Mission one—free Alvara and Blythe⁠—”

“And any other hostages,” Reyna reminded him.

“—and any other hostages,” he agreed. “Mission two, kill every last motherfucker there.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Kingsley declared, lifting his cup and the rest of our delegation did the same.

“Sláinte,” said Alec. We all found our feet in one smooth rise, lifting glasses in a salute before knocking them back. It was only as Reyna and Kingsley filed out—notably, together—that Kade tapped my shoulder.

“Commander Porter, a word?”