Ithan was carefully setting down a figurine of Cthona giving birth on all fours—the planet Midgard crowning between her legs—when Jesiba’s phone rang. The shrill sound shattered the silence, but Ithan’s sunball reflexes kept him from dropping the fragile marble.
“What.”
Even Ithan’s wolf-keen hearing couldn’t make out the person on the other end.
“Fine.”
She hung up, gaze instantly shooting to Ithan. He gently nestled the figurine into a crate, packing peanuts rustling. “What is it?” he asked carefully.
“Come with me.” She got to her feet and strode across the room with surprising speed considering her dark blue four-inch heels. She hadn’t bothered to change her hair back to its usual short length, and the sight of her swaying golden locks was … odd. So was the face free of its usual makeup. She might very well have been a few years older than Ithan for all she appeared.
She halted at the doorway and pointed to the wall adjacent to the bookshelf. “Bring that with you. It’s loaded.”
Ithan glanced over at the weapon mounted there. He’d heard what Bryce had done to Micah with it.
But Ithan didn’t hesitate as he crossed the room and grabbed the Godslayer Rifle off the wall.
Jesiba led Ithan through a dark-stoned warren, lit by simmering golden fires. The hallways were strangely quiet, and it occurred to him that he had no idea what time it was. Judging by the quiet, he guessed it was the middle of the night. But in the House of Flame and Shadow, where so many nocturnal predators dwelled, that might not have been accurate.
It didn’t matter, really.
The sounds of a gathered crowd rumbled down the stones long before he reached the round chamber.
Pillars had been formed from stalactites and stalagmites that had merged together—he scoured his brain and came up short on what those were called—and unlike the cut, polished glory of the other halls, the walls were raw stone. The domed ceiling was rough-hewn, and it echoed the murmuring and chattering of the crowd, too thick to identify individual words.
People quieted as Jesiba strutted through the natural archway into the room, Ithan a step behind her, that notorious gun in his hands. It was lighter than he’d thought it would be, yet he’d never held anything more electric.
The crowd parted to allow Jesiba through. She looked straight ahead as she strode into the center of the room, her dark blue skirt trailing behind her, heels beating a rolling, take-no-shit beat. If anyone was shocked by her new hairdo and lack of makeup, no one dared say anything. Or keep their stare on her for too long.
But Ithan glanced ahead to what—who—stood in the center of the chamber, and his heart stumbled.
The Astronomer lifted a knobbly finger and pointed at Ithan.
“You’re dead, thief,” the old man snarled.
Tharion knew he’d dodged a bullet. Knew Bryce’s arrival had spared him from the Ocean Queen sending him right back to Lunathion.
A bounty on his head. Fuck.
But to be confined to this ship … was it any better than being held by the River Queen or the Viper Queen? Confined as a guest, the Ocean Queen had claimed. But he knew what she’d meant.
“Avallen has always given me the creeps,” Flynn was saying as they all squeezed around a table in their deck’s mess hall, discussing the next day’s arrival on the misty isle. At this hour of the evening, every table was crammed with people for dinner, their conversations and laughter so loud it made it nearly impossible for Tharion to hear his companions. “But Morven’s terrible. I’ve known him since I was a kid, and he’s a fucking snake. Him, and the Murder Twins.”
“Murder Twins?” Athalar asked with a mix of alarm and amusement from where he sat beside Bryce, an arm looped around her waist, his fingers idly toying with the ends of her hair. Tharion knew that even if they hadn’t been short on space around the table, the mates would have kept close together.
“A nickname we gave my distant cousins,” Ruhn said around a mouthful of bread. “After they joined Cormac in trying to kill us multiple times in the Cave of Princes.” The prince’s eyes flickered with regret as he spoke Cormac’s name.
Tharion blocked out the image that flashed—of Cormac’s final moments, of running while the Fae male immolated himself. His grip clenched around his fork, so tight his knuckles turned white.
But Ruhn went on, “They can read minds … whether you want them to or not.” He pointed with his half-eaten chunk of bread to Bryce. “They’re not going to ask for permission like that Night Court dude.”
Bryce grimaced. “Can anyone defend against their skills?”
“Yeah,” Ruhn said, “but you have to be vigilant at all times, even when you can’t see them near you. And they obey Morven unconditionally.”
Bryce examined her nails. “I love me some good old-fashioned goons.”
Tharion smiled, grip loosening on his fork.
But Ruhn shook his head. “They’re not your usual goons, and Morven’s not your usual sort of asshole. During my Ordeal—”
“I know,” Bryce said, scooping up some rice, grown in one of the ship’s many hydroponic gardens. “Big, bad uncle. You pissed him off, he sent you into the Cave of Princes to punish you, you showed him up …”
“He’s Cormac’s father,” Declan said carefully. “Don’t forget that he’s just lost a son and heir.”
Tharion stared down at his platter of rice and fish, though his appetite had vanished like seafoam on the sand.
“He was quick to disown him,” Lidia Cervos said from the far end of the table.
Tharion had nearly keeled over in shock when she’d sat down with them. But … where else would she sit in the packed hall?
He didn’t fail to note that Ruhn sat at the opposite end of the table.
Lidia added, “But I will echo the warning: King Morven only agrees to things that are advantageous to him. If you’re going to convince him not to immediately sell you out to the Asteri, you need to spin it the right way.”
“I’d planned to go right to the archives,” Bryce said. “No royal visit required.”
“The mists,” Ruhn said, “tell him everything. He’ll know we’ve arrived. It’ll infuriate him if you don’t … pay tribute.”
“So we play nice,” Athalar said, draining his glass of water. The other diners kept glancing toward their table—with awe, with dread, with curiosity. All of them pretended not to notice.
“And,” Ruhn added, wincing, “females aren’t permitted in the archives.”
Tharion rolled his eyes. “Please,” he muttered.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bryce said, waving a dismissive hand. “The Autumn King made sure I was aware of their No Girls Allowed rules. But too bad for Morven: I’m going in.”
Hunt nudged her with a gray wing. “I’m assuming you have some plan up your sleeve that you’re going to spring on us at the worst possible moment.”
“I think you mean the coolest possible moment,” Bryce said, and Tharion, despite himself, smiled again.
“Note how she didn’t answer that,” Hunt said darkly to Baxian, who chuckled and said, “Danika was the same.”
An undercurrent of longing and sorrow flowed beneath the Helhound’s light tone. A male who’d lost his mate. It was, rumor claimed, worse than losing one’s soul. Tharion couldn’t decide whether he pitied the male for the loss, or envied him for being lucky enough to have found his mate in the first place. He wondered what Baxian would have preferred: to have never known Danika, or this, to have had their centuries together cut so brutally short.
Bryce reached across the table and squeezed the Helhound’s hand, love and pain on her face. Tharion turned his gaze from the matching expression Baxian gave her as he squeezed her hand back. A private, intimate moment of grieving.
After a moment of silence for the two of them to mourn the wolf they’d both loved, Flynn said, “Avallen is an old and fucked-up place. We need to be fast so we can get the Hel out of there.”
Bryce let go of Baxian’s hand and said primly, “Research takes time.” The perfect imitation of a schoolmarm. But she dropped the act as she added quickly, “Plus I want to visit the Cave of Princes.”
Tharion had heard only legends regarding the famed caves—none of them good.
Ruhn gaped. “And you think you can do this without even saying hello to Morven? Females aren’t allowed in there, either.”
Bryce crossed her arms, leaning into Athalar’s side. “Okay, maybe we’ll drop in for tea.”
Her brother was having none of it. “The Cave of Princes … why? What’s that got to do with the portal-to-nowhere stuff?”
Bryce shrugged, going back to her food. “It’s where the Starsword has always been held. I think there might be some information there.”
“Again … not actually answering,” Hunt said under his breath to Baxian. Tharion stifled his grin of amusement. Especially as Bryce glared at her mate. Athalar just pressed a kiss to her brow, a casual bit of love that had Baxian glancing away.
Tharion wished he had something to offer the Helhound, some sort of comfort. But the gods knew he wasn’t the one to dispense any sort of advice regarding love. Loss, maybe—he’d learned to live with the hole in his chest after Lesia had been murdered—but he doubted Baxian wanted to hear someone try to liken losing a sister to losing one’s mate.
“We shouldn’t stay on Avallen a moment longer than necessary,” Flynn insisted, drawing Tharion’s attention once more. “I’m telling you, every time I’ve been on the island, it’s made my magic … unhappy.” In emphasis, a delicate vine wrapped around his hand, between his fingers. “It literally shrivels up and dies when I’m there.” The vine did just that, withering into dust that sprinkled over his half-eaten plate of fish and rice. Flynn took a bite anyway.
“I always forget you actually have magic,” Bryce said. “But I’ll refrain from making the obvious dig about failing to perform on Avallen.”
“Thanks,” Flynn muttered, shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth.
“We should split up when we arrive,” Declan declared, pushing around his own meal. “Some of us can hit up the archives, and the others can go to the Cave of Princes. We’ll all look for any extra intel about the Starsword and its connection to the dagger.”
With a glance to the massive window at the rear of the mess hall, overlooking the crushing black ocean beyond, Tharion said, “And I’ll be here, praying to Ogenas that you find something useful about how to destroy the Asteri with those blades.”
Ogenas—Keeper of Mysteries. If there was a god to beg for knowledge, it’d be her.
“Archives,” Ruhn, Flynn, and Declan said, raising their hands.
Bryce glowered at them. “Shitheads. I was counting on some guidance from you, since you’ve actually been in the Cave of Princes before.” She turned to Athalar and Baxian and sighed. “Looks like we get to do some spelunking.”
“Just so you know,” Ruhn said, “during our Ordeal, it took the three of us a while to get to Pelias’s tomb and the Starsword. But that was also because we were being chased and hunted by ghouls and Cormac and the Murder Twins. So there might be a more direct route—though there are mists that try to confuse you every step of the way.”
“Great,” Bryce said, but Tharion didn’t miss how her eyes had seemed to brighten, as if her brother’s words had sparked something.
“And,” Ruhn added, “there are carvings throughout the caves—including in the burial chamber. It could take you a while to find anything. Make sure you bring a few days’ worth of supplies with you.”
“Noted,” Athalar said grimly.
“Fantastic,” Baxian grumbled beside him.
Tharion’s heart strained, his own words from a moment ago sinking in. He would be here, on this ship. While they left. Tomorrow they’d part ways. These people Urd had brought into his life, who he didn’t deserve …
“I’m going with you,” Lidia said. “To Avallen.” She’d been so silent that Tharion had forgotten she sat at the other end of the table.
Ruhn didn’t so much as look at her as she spoke. Tharion noted that the Hind was deliberately not looking at him, either. Only at Bryce.
“Why?” Bryce asked. “You, ah … Your kids are on this ship.”
Lidia’s spine stiffened. “The Ocean Queen has made it very clear that if I do not resume my duties as Agent Daybright, the protection she has given them will … cease.” They all looked at her in surprise, but Lidia continued, “The Asteri have created a new, worse type of mech-suit—worse than the hybrids from a few weeks ago. This one no longer requires a pilot to operate it, only techs in a distant room. Rigelus has ordered the suits stationed atop Mount Hermon.” A glance toward Hunt, whose face was stony at the news. “The Ocean Queen wants me to learn how to stop them, but I fear there’s little that I can glean beyond what the news networks have all been reporting. The suits are already built, and ready to be unleashed. We can do nothing.”
“Avallen’s the opposite direction from the Eternal City,” Hunt growled. “We’d be taking you way too far north.”
Lidia shook her head. “It is useless to expend my time looking for a way to stop the mech-suits—a solution that in all odds probably doesn’t exist. I convinced the Ocean Queen that I’m of better use to her if I accompany you to Avallen and learn whatever you uncover there.”
“So,” Bryce said, “you’ve offered to—what, spy on us for the Ocean Queen? And are telling us about it?”
A shallow nod. “You’ve made her nervous, Bryce Quinlan, and that is not a good thing. But because I have … connections to your group, she’s seen the advantage in sending me.” A glance toward Ruhn at last. The Fae Prince continued to ignore her.
“Do you really think nothing can be done about those new suits?” Bryce asked. “They sound dangerous.”
Lidia’s face remained solemn. “Destroying them would require assembling a force to march on the Eternal City. A force we do not have. So I will be going with you, for the time being. Until we figure out how we’re all going to end this.”
Stunned silence filled the room. Tharion’s breathing hitched at the thought of what Lidia was implying.
“Well, great,” Flynn muttered, earning a sharp look from Lidia. “Are you on Team Archives or Team Caves?”
“That remains to be seen,” Lidia said coolly. “As it remains to be seen whether you can convince Morven to even allow you to enter either place. Especially if females are not allowed.”
“We’ll convince him,” Bryce said, flashing that disarming smile. Tharion didn’t fail to catch the suspicious look Hunt slid her way.
Tharion would worry about it later. His friends were leaving. And he’d remain on this ship, under the control of the Ocean Queen. It didn’t matter if Bryce claimed him as her subject—there was no standing up to the ruler of the seas.
It wouldn’t have surprised him to glance down and find his chest caving in.
But his friends continued talking, and Tharion tried to savor it—the easy camaraderie, the tones and rhythms of their voices.
Too soon, he’d likely never see them again.
“This ship is just one big version of the Astronomer’s ring,” Sasa said quietly from where she floated above the glass conference table. “Malana’s been sick about it since we got on board.” Indeed, there was no sign of the third sprite.
“Is she okay?” Bryce asked.
“She’ll be okay when we leave,” Rithi said, admiring her reflection in the glass surface of the table. But the sprite suddenly peered up at Bryce’s face. “When we’re in open air again.”
“That’s what we came to talk about,” Lidia said, glancing between the sisters from where she sat on the other side of the table. “Your next move.”
Bryce had been surprised and a little unnerved when Lidia had pulled her aside after dinner and explained her plan. Bryce had an intimate connection to the sprite community, and Lidia needed the triplets sent on an essential task. It would be best if that request came from someone they trusted, the Hind insisted.
The sprites now swapped looks. “We had planned to follow you to Avallen,” Sasa said, chin lifting. “Unless you would rather not have three sprites—”
“It would be an honor and a joy to have three sprites with me,” Bryce said, hoping her earnest tone proved how much she meant it. How her heart had been aching since Lidia had grabbed her earlier, and the memory of Lehabah’s beautiful face had glowed brightly in her mind. “And honestly, where we’re going, you guys would be super useful.” In the darkness of the Cave of Princes, even with Bryce’s starlight, three extra flames would have been very helpful. “But …” She considered her next words carefully.
Lidia spared her the effort. “Irithys is free.”
The sprites gasped, both going vibrant orange. “Free?” Rithi breathed.
“Escaped,” Lidia amended. “I helped her get out of the Asteri palace, in exchange for her assistance with rescuing our friends from the dungeons.”
“Where is she now?” Sasa demanded, flame warming—paling to a lighter hue.
“That is why we came to talk to you,” Bryce said. “We don’t know where she is.”
“You … lost our queen?” Sasa said softly.
“When we parted ways,” Lidia added quickly, as Rithi and Sasa were now turning white-hot with anger, “I suggested that Irithys go find a stronghold of your people. She seemed … hesitant to do so. I think she might be worried about how she’ll be received.”
The sprites bristled with anger.
“So,” Bryce cut in quickly, “we were wondering if you guys would go find her. Make sure she’s, ah … safe. And offer her your companionship.”
“Our queen doesn’t want to see her people?” Rithi’s voice was dangerously low, her flame still a simmering white.
“Irithys,” Lidia said calmly, “has spent the majority of her existence locked within a crystal ball. As you, perhaps, can understand better than anyone else on Midgard … to suddenly be free of captivity, to be alone in the world, is no easy thing. So I”—a glance at Bryce—“we are asking you to find her. To offer her companionship and guidance, yes, but also …”
“To help us,” Bryce finished. “We need you three to advocate for Midgard—help her understand what we’re fighting for. And maybe convince her to help against the Asteri again. When the time’s right.”
The sprites studied them for a long moment.
Sasa said, “You would trust Lowers and slaves with this?”
“We would trust no one else for so important a task,” Lidia said.
There weren’t many Vanir on Midgard who would say it—and believe it. Bryce felt herself slide dangerously toward liking the Hind.
But Rithi asked, “You can’t believe that some fire sprites would make a difference against the Asteri. Our ancestors didn’t during the battle with the Fallen … and that was against malakim.”
“Lehabah made a difference against Micah,” Bryce said, throat unbearably tight. “One fire sprite took on an Archangel and handed his ass to him. Her presence bought me the time to kill him. To kill an Archangel.”
The sprites’ eyes widened. “You killed Micah?” Rithi breathed.
Lidia didn’t seem surprised—as the Hind, she’d probably heard about the whole thing right after it happened. “With Lehabah’s help,” Bryce said. “Because of Lehabah’s help.” She swallowed down the ache in her throat. “So yes—I believe that the fire sprites can and will make a difference against the Asteri.”
The sisters looked at each other, as if they could mind-speak like Ruhn.
Then Sasa met Bryce’s stare. And said without an ounce of fear, “We will find Irithys.” The sprites burned to a deep, true blue. “And fight with her against the Asteri when the time comes.”
“That went well,” Bryce said minutes later as she and Lidia walked down the hall, back toward their sleeping quarters. “I’m glad you had me talk to them.”
The Hind said nothing, gaze fixed on the passage ahead.
“You all right?” Bryce dared ask. The Hind had sat with them at dinner, but had been mostly quiet. And definitely hadn’t even looked once at Ruhn. Nor had her brother acknowledged Lidia’s presence.
“Fine,” Lidia said, and Bryce knew it for the lie it was.
They said nothing more for the rest of the way, stopping only when they reached the sleeping quarters. Hunt was waiting for Bryce in their room. But Bryce paused and said before Lidia could walk into her own cabin, “Thank you.”
Lidia halted, turning her way. “For what?”
“Saving my mate. My brother. My best friend’s mate. You know, three of the most important people in my life.” She offered a tentative smile.
Lidia inclined her head, regal and graceful. “It was the least I could do.” She turned back to open her door.
“Hey,” Bryce said. Lidia paused again. Bryce jerked her chin at Lidia, and the cabin beyond the Hind—where she’d be staying alone. “I know we don’t, uh, know each other or anything, but if you need someone to talk to … Someone who’s not Ruhn …” She shrugged. “I’m a door away.”
Gods, that sounded stupid.
But Lidia’s mouth quirked upward, something like surprise in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and walked into her room, quietly shutting the door behind her.
All day, Hunt had been practically counting down the minutes until he could get Bryce alone in their room, then get her naked. But now that he was lying in the too-narrow bunk with her, lights out and the only sound their breathing … he didn’t know where to start.
That fucked-up conversation between them earlier didn’t help. He’d told her his truth, and she didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t accept it.
But it was his fault—out of all of them, he should have known better than to lead them down this road again. He didn’t get how she couldn’t see that.
“Can I be honest about something?” she said into the darkness. She didn’t wait for his answer before she said, “Aside from dangling the Autumn King’s notes in front of Morven, I don’t have a solid game plan for dealing with him. Or a solid backup plan should he not go for the notebooks.”
Hunt put aside thoughts of their earlier fight and said, “Oh, I know. You didn’t have nearly as much insufferable swagger about this as you usually do when you have a genius secret plan.”
She whacked his shoulder. “I mean it. Aside from the Autumn King’s notes, my only other bargaining chip with him is my breeding potential. And since you and I are married …”
“Are you asking for a divorce?”
She chuckled. “No. I’m saying that I’ve got no worth to these shitheads. Since my uterus is … spoken for.”
“Mmm. Sexy.” He nipped at her ear. “I missed you.” They could get into the nitty-gritty of their argument later. Tomorrow. Never.
He trailed a hand down her hip, her thigh. His cock stirred at the softness of her, the sweet smell of lilac and nutmeg.
“As much as I want to bang your brains out, Athalar,” she said, and Hunt laughed into her hair, “can we just … hold each other tonight?”
“Always,” he said, heart aching. He tucked her in tighter, so fucking grateful for her scent in his nose, the lushness of her body against his. He didn’t deserve it. “I love you.”
She pressed even closer, arm wrapping around his waist. “I love you, too,” she whispered back. “Team Caves, all the way.”
He huffed a laugh. “Let’s get T-shirts.”
“Don’t tempt me. If Avallen wasn’t a backwater island with no interweb, I would have already ordered them to arrive at Morven’s castle.”
He grinned, that weight in his chest lifting for a precious moment. “There’s really no interweb?”
“Nope. The mists block all. Legend has it that even the Asteri can’t pierce them.” She made a silly little eerie woooooo noise and wriggled her fingers. Then she paused, as if considering, before adding, “Vesperus mentioned things called thin places—wreathed in mist. The Prison in the Fae world was one. And it seems too coincidental that the ancient Starborn Fae also established a stronghold in a place wreathed by mist that keeps out enemies.”
Hunt’s brows rose. “How can the mists possibly keep a wall up against the Asteri?”
“The better question is why would the Asteri leave Avallen alone for so long if it is capable of keeping them out.”
Hunt pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I suspect you’ll find out the answers in the most dramatic way possible.”
She snuggled closer to him, and he held her tighter. “You know me well, Athalar.”
Ithan didn’t dare point the Godslayer Rifle at the Astronomer. But he remained poised to do so as Jesiba said, “What is this about?”
The crowd—draki, vamps, daemonaki, and many others he couldn’t name—was silent as death. They had all come to witness this retribution. Ithan’s mouth dried out.
The Astronomer’s slate-gray eyes blazed with hatred. “The wolf stole something of mine.”
Jesiba shrugged. “The matter of the sprites and the dragon has been settled between us.”
“Do not toy with me, Jesiba,” the Astronomer snapped. “We both know he took more than those firelings.”
Ithan stepped up. His hands grew sweaty against the sleek wood and metal of the rifle. “A tank is no place for a wolf.” Or anyone, he thought. “And besides, she wasn’t yours to begin with. She had no slave mark.”
“Her father sold her to me. It was an unofficial passing of ownership.”
“She was a child, and you had no right—”
Ithan had killed her. He had no right to speak of her like he wasn’t as bad as this man before him—
“You are a thief, wolf, and I demand payment! I demand her returned to me!”
Words were suddenly impossible. Ithan couldn’t speak.
But a lovely, lilting female voice said from behind the crowd, “The Fendyr heir shall never again be yours, Astronomer.”
The crowd hissed, and parted to reveal Queen Hypaxia Enador walking into the chamber, robes floating behind her on a phantom wind.
From the corner of his eye, Ithan caught Jesiba’s smirk. “Hypaxia,” the sorceress said. “Just the necromancer I was looking for.”
