Page 205 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

And froze.

The shadows coalesced into forms.

Plural.

Not alone.

Carrson Landry stood beside him, looking about as thrilled to see me as I was to see him. His fingers hovered near his weapons. I’d already palmed a blade, gripping the tip for a throw—only to watch his hand close around the hilt at his hip.

Cyrus dropped a hand over his cousin’s to stop him.

Both wore knee-length peacoats with popped collars, no Paladin masks. Not that it mattered. Cats were already out of the bag.

I scanned the area, fast, sweeping from one direction to the other. Mercifully: empty.

“Just us,” Cyrus said curtly.

My eyes snapped to his and anger surged.

These weren’t the trouble-prone teens every girl at music camp had gawked over. These were weapons—trained, sharpened, and sanctioned by one of the cruelest hierarchies on the continent. I’d do well to remember that. Even as I stared into those familiar eyes.

“We had a deal,” I snapped. “Had to bring your fucking lapdog?”

“It’s my honor to serve my prince,” Carrson growled, voice as low as his tolerance.

“A prince incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

Cyrus stalked forward as I pushed off the wall, the two of them subtly shifting to stay between me and the other.

“Given the current climate between my hierarchy and Bellaton, Ma decided I needed a damn bodyguard. In no small part thanks to your fucking attack yesterday.”

He gestured toward Carrson. “You have yourself to thank for the mother hen.”

“And the great Prince of Paladin couldn’t shake a tail?” I sneered.

Carrson grinned. “A Wing has one purpose above all—protect our royals. Even when they’re little bitches about it.”

Cyrus tilted his head toward his cousin in a slow, exasperated motion. Didn’t even bother to glare.

“Untie your knickers, Carrson. I’m not here to hurt him.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Please. If I wanted either of you dead, you’d already be rotting in one of these pretty stone boxes.”

Carrson surged forward, but Cyrus caught his collar and yanked him back. They locked eyes—probably having one of those irritating silent conversations—and turned back to me. Carrson still looked like he wanted to punch something.

“You can trust him,” Cyrus insisted as we closed the distance.

“Trust is a fool’s luxury I won’t be affording.”

“Fine. I trust him. That’s enough.”

“For who?”

“It’ll have to be—unless you’d rather deal with Nix.”

We stopped just outside of arm’s reach. He was sincere. I could tell. But I was outnumbered, and that fact gnawed at the back of my skull.