Page 23 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Glimpses of a young boy with raven-black hair, dressed in the rich navy of royals, running through stone hallways ahead of me, laughter spilling over his shoulder.

The image of a foreign hierarchy kneeling before me.

An angry mob. My mother’s hand in mine, her gifts sputtering out.

Fragments of light, laughter, and terror...

“Wake up, El. They’re coming for you.”

I rocketed upright, my heart lodged in my throat as Adrastos’ low, unmistakable voice echoed through my mind. Cold sweat slicked my palms, my bare legs tangled in damp sheets. Twisting, my gaze raked over the converted van—tiny countertop and kettle, quaint curtains Rosaleigh had scavenged. We’d stolen the damn thing after the third Thornquist safe house turned up empty. If Kingsley was going to be a pain in my ass, I could at least return the favor.

A warm, broad palm settled against my back. August. His voice was mellow when he finally spoke.

“Ally.” A slow stroke up and down my spine. “You’re safe. We’re safe. We’re camped in Idaho.”

Idaho. We’d made it to Idaho.

“Holy shit.” I buried my face in my damp palms, cursing as I kneaded the tension from my forehead and temples, wishing for something stronger than the teas we had stashed by the kettle. Swallowing hard, I scoured the darkness, but before I could ask the time, August’s answer slid through my mind.

“Four thirty-five,” he said.

I balked. “Are you kidding me?” Irritation coiled in my chest. Even earthbound, this body refused to rest.

“At least you made it most of the night this time,” he pointed out.

Every. Night. Every damn night, I woke from these nightmares. Every night since the battle. Since the vision that changed everything—and nothing—all at once.

Saliva burned like acid as I forced myself to swallow. My breath still came in ragged gasps.

“Did he talk to you again?” August tried to mask the concern in his voice, but I heard it in the slight tension, the way it always tightened when we spoke of Adrastos. Keeping the truth from the coven was eating us both alive, but he didn’t press. Didn’t try to dissuade me from the razor-thin thread I’d decided to tiptoe down—the one that started by uniting our allies.

As expected, Liv and Zeke hadn’t even needed dinner before agreeing to return from their hiatus, pledging to serve Aren—and by extension, August—however they could. Their sizable nomadic hierarchy stood behind them. They might not have our numbers, but they were neck and neck with Hazelharbor.

Every stop we’d made had been the same. The clans were small but mighty. And with many leaders, we could shift the tide of the visions, rewrite the fate of humanity.

Liv’s worried lip, white-knuckled grip on her tea, and wide, fearful eyes burned into my vision. My stomach ached with the ancient memory of perpetual hunger—not for food, but for peace.

She was lovely, gentle, nurturing. But she was neither healer nor warrior, and I saw the war between her fear and her determination unfold in real time. Ultimately, even if it meant building bunkers, cooking rations, or brewing tinctures, she’d find her place. I told her as much. We all had a divine calling, something we’d been born and bred to do.

Until now, I had believed—with absolute certainty—that I knew mine.

But ever since the battle, ever since that damn vision, it was my enemy’s voice warning me of danger.

August and I weren’t the only ones hunting.

Finally remembering his question, I nodded. “Told me to wake up. That they were coming.”

August tongued at a molar, then sighed irritably.

“We should get moving.”

SIX

HIDE AND SEEK

AUGUST

I lifted my bloodied hands, cupping both sides of her captivating face. Loose strands of hair clung to her damp cheeks, and when I pushed them away, a sob broke past her lips, scorching me from the inside.