Page 161 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

He half-shrugged. “You for him. Easy trade.”

Canting my head, I studied him. Studied the twitchy one beside him, likely ready to explode. Then I leaned into my hostage and cooed, “Hear that, poppet? You’re not the main event. Just me.”

“Go to hell,” he spat.

“Very well. You first.” I jerked him forward sharply—and the effect was instant. Several Paladins flinched. So did the one to my right. Even Cyrus nearly dropped Blaz.

“No!” came the collective shout.

I grinned. “Good news, poppet. Maybe you’re not so useless after all.”

“Mr. Gwyne was not authorized collateral,” the prince growled. “The perpetrator will be punished. The Stuarts did not approve a breach of treaty.”

Even from this distance, I could see the pinch in his brow, the way he seemed to beg me to believe him.

I looked around. The Manor hadn’t changed much. Newer furniture. More art. Same cold palette—just cheerful enough to depress Wednesday Addams. Two exits. Too many windows. One hearth fire. Nine Paladins in total. Three in uniform. None fully masked. They didn’t look like they were expecting me, so this wasn’t a trap. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t exploit it.

And of the three in uniform…only one had blood on it. My gaze locked onto the mismatched eyes again. Chest heaving. Gaze flicking between me and the hostage.

“So then,” I asked lightly, “why isn’t he home?” No answer. I leaned the blade tighter against my hostage’s throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” I tutted when they stepped forward. The blade pierced fabric. My hostage hissed.

“Does Reyna know?” Cyrus asked carefully, taking a step closer.

“I said,” I enunciated, smiling like the blade in my hand wasn’t already slick with blood, “Give. Me. Blaz. Gwyne.”

Ally had told me not to kill this bastard—but Saints, was it tempting.

A smaller Paladin edged forward, hands raised.

“You have no honor,” I snarled. “He’s a child. Innocents aren’t collateral.”

“But the man in your arms is?” Cyrus challenged.

“That man’s about to be a father,” a woman said.

“Sounds like his fucking problem. There are no innocents where ascended Paladins are concerned.”

She flinched—but tried again. “We return Blaz. You let him go.”

“Now,” I barked. “I have shadows out front. You’ll take him out to them. I’ll follow.”

“Okay,” Cyrus agreed, voice calm but cautious. He moved slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. “Now take your blade off my man.”

“After.” I pressed the blade harder, grinning as iron laced the air and my hostage hissed through clenched teeth.

The power I’d stolen on the way in buzzed through me now, settling deep in my limbs. I could almost welcome it—almost—if not for the problem it posed.

Because it wasn’t enough.

A sick, primal hunger stirred as I smelled blood and wanted more. Wanted his power in my veins.

Wanted to break the pact I’d made before this began.

I smiled at him, slow and sharp.

“Hurry, little prince,” I whispered. “Your friend smells delicious.”

The expression that flashed in the prince’s eyes hovered between fear and revulsion—and I grinned as he vanished outside with Blaz in his arms.