Page 10 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

When the tea finally made it from my hands to Carr’s, Ma cleared her throat.

“Very well.” With an impartial flick of her gaze, she added, “Lynx, Vesper—you both have my condolences for your coven’s losses this evening.”

“From stardust we came, and to the ether, all shall return,” the gathering chorused, heads bowing before our queen continued.

“Nix will be the voice of our Wings this evening.”

Oh. Great. So the motherfucker could speak freely after all.

Irritated, I fiddled with my signet ring, focusing on my breathing. The difference between us and the bane of my existence? The matriarchal line of power welded Calypso and me into a throne of authority, while Nix’s father was merely her advisor—a role I would take when my sister replaced Ma’, per tradition. That was, of course, assuming a more powerful female didn’t ascend before the magic marked her on the equinox.

It was that magicline that earned us both a ring bearing Ma’s family crest—a raven clutching a dagger in his talons, our initials where his heart should be. That heirloom granted us the authority to govern the hierarchy in her absence, to vote at this very table, to hold council, and, should the Six summon the royals, to speak in her stead at conclaves. It also gave us one vote should some crazy bastard ever attempt to conquer the Crucible and become a Paladin—to approve or disapprove of the Wing they challenged in their final task.

Somehow, over the years, the ring had become my anchor in moments of frustration. Like now, as my bastard cousin was handed a platform from which to speak.

Nix bowed his head in acceptance before lifting his chin, his expression insufferably cocky as usual, eyes locking on Ma’. “Our trackers have been deployed, ma’am.”

Ma nodded.

I scoffed.

Nix’s gaze snapped to mine from where he sat behind Juno and Vesper, one sapphire eye and one gold alight with challenge. “Something funny, Stuart?”

“Your trackers won’t find anything,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“And why the hell not?”

“This wasn’t some petty thief.”

“I’d certainly hope not, considering that would call into question the efficacy of our head of security, wouldn’t it?”

Refusing to take the bait, I kept my tone bored. “This was a professional. I’ve never seen anyone move like that without shadows to soften their landing. Our thief moved like a damned bird. She was⁠—”

“She?” he scoffed. “You’re telling me you lost our base to a single female?” His golden brows arched skeptically. A murmur of agreement rippled around the table—everyone, it seemed, except Calypso and Carr, whose anxious eyes flicked to mine.

“I stand by my assessment.”

Cyrus, Ma warned mind-to-mind.

Deciding to take my lashes later, I lifted my chin. “A solo assailant ransacked a building before alarms tripped or security detected a thing. It’s a rather auspicious match for a figure prominent in Bellpost lore, don’tcha think?”

“Can’t say I’m familiar—you were always yammering on about the Obsidian Crown,” Nix countered, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. If making people look bad was a sport, Nix was its reigning champion. He knew damn well my obsession with that particular legend had led to the worst tragedy of my life, yet his grin didn’t falter when I didn’t snap.

The council watched us volley like spectators at a game, their flickering gazes itching my skin like a physical touch.

“You never were one for book smarts.”

Carr poorly concealed a snicker behind a cough as Nix’s expression soured.

“So let me fill you in on the tale of our ancestors.”

“No need to condescend,” my father reprimanded. The weight of the council’s stares shifted toward him.

“No need to veil reality either,” I countered, eyes locked on that mismatched pair across the room. “Nix was never one for studies. I was. And I’m telling you all—the style of this attack is not coincidental. We are the descendants of Bellpost proper. And for centuries, our people have encountered an enemy that manifests when we’re in the throes of an acquisition. Historically speaking, we’re right on schedule.” I folded my hands, resting my elbows on the table, rolling the sucker across my tongue before tucking it into my cheek with a clink. My gaze flicked to my sister, willing her to hear reason.

“We’re weeks away from finalizing a counterattack to the weapons we acquired during the conflict with the Renown. A sudden manifestation of a rather elusive thief? That is, historically, par for the course.”

“The Wraith?” Orion barked in disbelief before his chest shook with husky laughter.