Page 355 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Like what?

Accusations of blood magic violations. Council corruption. Treason.

Treason. That word again. Tossed like gravel until someone choked on it.

Sunlight scorched my eyes as we stepped outside. I blinked against it—against the chaos. And there she was. My compass. My anchor. My goddamned salvation.

Lynx and Mars hung from the pyre in the bed of her truck—shirtless, bloodied, and limp. Calypso and Carr flanked her, masks discarded, shielding her back.

One of the Guardians was missing.

Intentional, no doubt.

A message.

Freya spotted me. Her eyes flared—pain, then fury. She dipped her chin, reining it in. Lethal.

“He was your son,” she said to the Queen.

“He is my son,” the Queen snapped, “and my subject to do with as I please.”

“Rules for thee, not for me. It’s always been your problem,” Freya spat. “You bow to a queen who holds herself above our sacred laws.”

“You say ‘our,’ but you are no Paladin.”

“By your hand,” she bit back. “I was your second. I served with my whole soul. Lieutenant Caruso—” Her tone softened. “—your mother saved my life in Appalachia. I returned the favor in New Orleans. She was an honorable fighter. A better friend.” Then to Orion: “Come back with your shield—or on it.”

Orion shifted. Uneasy. Loyal, yes—but never blindly so.

Where the fuck was my father?

I searched the crowd as Freya called them out, one by one. Named them. Reminded them. She wasn’t some upstart challenger. She was theirs.

“Cyrus,” she whispered, and raised a hand toward me. Carr and Calypso moved instantly. Noctis cut in ahead of them. My knees buckled, vision swimming. I leaned hard into Marikh’s arm as his healing magic slowed the fire.

Freya’s voice rang out again, this time not for me, but for everyone.

“This prince was imprisoned. Tortured. Silenced. Because the Queen feared him—the cleverness, the resilience, and the truths I returned to share.”

“He is being charged with conspiracy!” the Queen snapped.

Freya let a flame slip through her fingers and the Queen flinched. She had her. She fucking had her.

“The Accords beg to differ,” Freya said coldly. “Or is Paladin blood only sacred if it kneels? Was our law written for rulers with egos strong enough to withstand opposition—or the coward who stood unopposed after every stronger rival wound up dead?”

My breath caught as the crowd gasped, and the council reeled.

Had she just accused the Queen of murdering her way to the throne?

And worst of all⁠—

I didn’t doubt her.

I didn’t have time to mull it over—Noctis confirmed my suspicion as she yanked off her mask and gently gripped my arm. Pain seared through me. I grunted, unable to stop it as agony devoured every nerve.

“And you,” Freya snapped—emotion cracking through her voice for the first time—“you all let your prince be brutalized while you stood outside these walls like obedient dogs instead of guardians of the balance. What about this is balanced?” She threw an indignant hand toward me. “What does your oath even mean if your leaders can be broken beneath the roof you swore to protect, without the honor of a trial?”

A ripple tore through the Wings. As my vision cleared, I caught them shifting, exchanging uneasy glances. A few reached for weapons—but for Freya or the Queen, I couldn’t tell. My stomach pitched as if I’d stepped too close to a ravine. Or maybe it was the fresh fire crawling through my bones.