Page 361 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

The mark had taken.

The Paladin crest would be burned into my skin beneath the leathers.

Still panting, I turned in a slow circle, meeting every gaze but theirs. I couldn’t stomach it. Not here. Not yet. Not with all their eyes on me.

“Anyone else?” I asked, breathless. Not sure I could survive another fight. No one moved. Not a single soul. I nodded, turned, and picked up Reagan’s blade, wiping it on my leathers.

Calypso. I made a beeline for her, but Carr and Cyrus stepped in front of her.

My jaw tightened. As if they thought I’d hurt her?

I met Carr’s hard sapphires—anything to avoid looking at Cyrus—and kneeled, bowing my head as I extended the blade toward Calypso.

Now or never. Respect, yes. But also condemnation. I hadn’t lied to them outright. Just…omitted things. It got Cyrus out. That was all that mattered. Boots shifted in my periphery as I sucked in another breath, praying I hadn’t just executed their mother for nothing.

Calypso gingerly took the blade in both hands. My breath hitched and, tentatively, I lifted my gaze.

Tears glistened in her eyes, her mouth twisting into a grief-stricken grimace. I hated that. Hated that my justice hurt her.

Hated that after all that, the bitch forced my hand when she took my mate.

She nodded slowly. Then turned the blade toward herself, offering me the hilt. “Long live the Queen,” she whispered.

The bridge of my nose stung. I blinked the weakness back.

“Long live the Queen,” Carr echoed, louder this time, for the crowd.

I rose. Nodded my thanks to Calypso.

And one by one, they all echoed the cry. Kneeling. All except Carr, Cyrus, and Jo.

Carr steadied me as I swayed. Jo appeared on my other side and pressed her hand to my wound.

Her healing worked expeditiously, my breath evening a few heartbeats later.

Keep it, I told Calypso when I found her in the corner of my mind.

You won. It’s your right. Cold. Calculated. But honest.

I never intended to take anything more from you, Cali. That’s why I waited for the Equinox.

I looked at Cyrus—at those familiar citrine eyes—and swallowed the ache. I wanted to touch him. To fall into him. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Instead, I turned to the people.

“Long live the King.”

The chorus echoed behind me.

Smiling faintly, I added, “Thank you for honoring my victory. Jax, please see our prisoners delivered to their companions.”

He dipped his chin and leapt for the truck.

“This may be unconventional, but then again…that might be my middle name. I am Freya Lynn Porter, the reincarnated soul of your second, Valora Lamb. As Queen by trial, I open a window—for you to leave, if you must. I will not force loyalty. I will rule as my Commander—” I cleared my throat, relief easing the ache as I found Brody and Jax stirred in my mind. Thank fuck. I still had Grayshell. “—my former Commander does. Your loyalty will not be bound by command but rather by example. I will fight in the battles we wage, not above them. Paladin was never meant to be a weapon for anything but the balance,” I continued. “And to the balance we will return.” Some nods. Most were silent.

“The window is open. Go, if you must. May you find another hierarchy to suit you. Because I am calling you to war. Cyrus and Calypso are noble souls. I trust them with your lives. But I’m putting out a call to arms—to any who would stand as a shield between humanity and a rising darkness.”

They were listening. Holding their breath.

“The Seer of the North says there are three threads where we win. In all three, we fight beside Bellaton and Grayshell. Our enemy thinks they’re untouchable. But I’m asking you to do what Paladins do best.” My voice hardened. “Rattle the goddamn cage.”