Page 385 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Well, if this isn’t a happy surprise.” Moros’s voice slithered through the chaos—low, sickly, and laced with command. “So pleased to find you in one piece, little brother.”

Bellamy went rigid. His jaw locked, his eyes dead. But he still managed to grit out one solitary word:

“Run.”

Freya

From within the shadows, Cyrus and I watched hell prepare to descend.

Moros and that death bitch—allegedly Marlana—had brought friends. Lots of them. Standing proudly beneath banners of black, red, and silver.

This could go belly-up faster than a frog in a pot. Just beyond the curtain of flame, there had to be a thousand troops—some fully infested Renown, others horribly clear-eyed. I hated the latter more. Hated them for choosing this, for following without a demon whispering promises in their ears.

Cyrus had barely said a word since we left Paladin.

Not that I blamed him. He’d had maybe an hour to process what I’d done to his family before being thrust into a war that might be humanity’s last. And still, he was here. Still bound and determined to fight beside me.

The storm inside his head was rivaled only by the size of the enemy host.

Fuck, I hoped Ally knew what she was doing. She’d evacuated ten blocks this morning—an order issued while Magnolia was still trapped in the shadow realm.

Now, our job was to draw the fight back inside the boundary line.

Anything? Cyrus clipped through the tether. Alec and Ally had patched him up quickly, his injuries superficial compared to the wreckage of Magnolia and Adrastos, who’d been hauled back from the brink.

The bulk of Hazelharbor was already deployed—scattered to other allied hierarchies or manning hospital wards.

Yeah. Ally was right. But you’re not going to like it.

I think we’re past the point of liking things, don’t you?

Fuck. I huffed. Go.

I go where you go, Your Majesty.

There was no fondness in it. Just the cold, dutiful cadence of a soldier fulfilling his orders. I’d been demoted from ma moitié to a strategic liability. A memory of what we could’ve been.

But now wasn’t the time to mull that over.

I still trusted him to fight. To defend the balance. To protect our people. That would have to be enough.

Right now, I need you to defer to my experience—and to Aren and Alvara’s. Follow orders, Stuart.

Same old, same old.

With a huff, he misted to Aren and Magnolia, tapping her shoulder to drag her into the molasses-thick hush of the realm between. She blinked, startled, shadows already curling around her like smoke.

“No dragons,” I purred, earning a wary nod. “That’s cool as shit. I’m kind of fucking jealous.”

“You say that now, but that thing was horrific.”

“The first monster always is. You get used to it.”

“I don’t know how long my magic will hold,” she said, voice tight.

“Then we better make it fucking count.”

Before I could add more, Cyrus laid a hand on Aren’s shoulder and dragged him under. Magnolia reached back a beat later, pulling Fae into the monochrome veil.