Page 158 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

No answer.

I sprinted across the hallway and slammed my fist against his door—but it was already cracked open.

Empty.

The room was a mess—two broken lamps, one cracked glass pane, an open window. No sign of an assailant. I dropped to a crouch, checked under the bed. Nothing. Cleared the bathroom and closet. Nothing.

The scuffle had been contained in the bedroom—and he was gone.

“Blaz!” I shouted, flying back into the hall. Footsteps started sounding through the house. Shouts. Doors opening. “Intruder in the estate! Intruder in the estate! All hands to your fucking posts!” I roared, cutting through the chaos as people sprang into motion.

I slammed into Reyna’s door and rushed to her bedside. She blinked up at me groggily—scowled, then froze when she really saw me.

“What?” she demanded, already moving faster than I could form a sentence. Her eyes locked onto mine, sharp and knowing.

This was my fault. My fault he’d been involved. My fault if something happened to him.

He wasn’t even ascended. He had no way to defend himself.

I looked into Reyna’s face—not the queen now, but his mother. A mother who’d already lost her partner. Who’d just lost her closest advisor. Who couldn’t lose anyone else.

No words could cover the guilt choking me, so I went with facts. Cold, sharp facts.

“There’s been a breach,” I said. “They took Blaz.”

Cyrus

The coppery tang of iron coated my tongue as I thrashed against the hands trying to drag me off a dead man walking.

“You selfish fucking prick piece of shit!”

I tore free from Carr and Calypso, lunging for Nix. That insufferable grin turned my vision red. We collided for the fifth fucking time, the bastard dodging my first blow and landing an uppercut to my gut before I drove him to the hardwood floor of the Manor. We rolled, tumbled—again.

Same queen.

Same trainers.

Same fucking tactics.

I could’ve shot out the lights. Dropped us into the dark and torn him apart in the shadows. But there was something far more satisfying about beating that pretty-boy face in with my bare fucking hands.

Pain was registering somewhere in the back of my mind—his hits were landing—but I couldn’t stop long enough to care. Every grunt, every hiss I ripped out of him was a balm to the writhing panic inside me.

“You ruined everything,” I spat between clenched teeth. I dropped low and drove my shoulder into his chest, sending him stumbling into the wall. A framed oil painting clattered to the floor just before I jammed my forearm into his throat and pinned him there.

“Cy!” Calypso barked. “You can’t kill him!”

“Bullshit,” I snarled. “That’s treason, Nix. You just fucked us all over to prove a fuckin’ point.”

“You don’t—” He gasped for breath, clawing at my arm, bloody spittle flying as he ground out, “—have the fucking balls to finish this.”

“There was a sting planned tonight, you fuckin’ idiot. Winning a war takes plans.”

“She’ll come,” he growled.

“With the might of Bellaton at her back, you dim-witted psychopath. You just declared war.” I slammed my fist into his face again. Blood spilled from the split in his brow. Hands clawed at my arms, trying to pull me off him, but it only added fuel to the fire.

“I will carve those motherfucking wings off your arms before I dishonor your bird by killing you while you wear them,” I panted, still shaking with rage as Carr gained enough leverage to yank me away.