“So,” Jesiba said, drumming her fingers on her desk, “the pup goes to pitch a deworming medicine to a bunch of wolves and comes home Prime.”
Ithan ignored the jab. “I need you to get me in with the Under-King,” he said. He’d showered in the barracks at the Den and changed into nondescript Aux clothes, then swiftly checked on Perry and the others before running back to the House of Flame and Shadow. He was Prime, yes, and all that entailed, but—
“Why?”
“I need to see my brother. And considering that it was a fucking disaster the last two times I tangled with the dead … I’m not going to make mistakes this time. I need the Under-King’s help.” Ithan paced her office.
“Again: Why?”
He looked straight at her. “Because Connor is trying to reach me.” He’d heard that howl from the Bone Quarter and known whose it was. Who was calling to him.
While Ithan had changed, Hypaxia had handed out the antidote at the Den, to those who’d take it. Perry had been first in line, apparently. And it hadn’t been an Omega standing before Ithan when he’d checked on her as he left the Den.
Ithan hadn’t stayed long enough to find out what Perry was—what powers she and the others had gained, long buried in the wolves’ bloodline. He’d given the order that this new knowledge was to be contained to the Den, and the wolves had agreed.
Obeyed him.
“You were right,” Ithan said to Jesiba, “about needing a plan. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You could take some lessons from Quinlan about thinking two steps ahead.”
Ithan glared at her. “Any updates from Avallen?”
“She called two hours ago. Wanting a favor, as always. And an update on your progress.” The sorceress smirked. “And when I told her what Hypaxia had accomplished, of course, she requested that you bring that antidote to her.”
“When—where?”
Jesiba smirked again. “The Eternal City. Tomorrow. I think Quinlan’s had enough of being pushed around. She said to bring some wolves, if you have any to back you up.”
Ithan stared. To not only be Prime, but to act as Prime … “Is there going to be a battle?”
“I don’t know.” Jesiba fixed him with a grave look. “But if I were you, I’d get the pups and vulnerable wolves to safe hiding places. Not the Den, not in Lunathion. Get them evacuated deep into the wild. Go to ground. And then take the best fighters you have to the Eternal City.”
“There aren’t many at the Den—most are away.”
“Then take whoever’s around. It will be better than nothing.”
Ithan paced a step, then another. “Maybe I should have left Sigrid in that tank. It’d be better than being a Reaper.” There was no one to blame for her predicament but himself. Ithan rubbed his forehead. “Look, I need to see my brother. One last time.”
“That’s impossible.”
Ithan’s teeth flashed. “I know you can ask the Under-King.” He didn’t wait for her reply before he asked, “Do you know—about the secondlight? That our souls are food for the Under-King and the Asteri?”
“Yes.”
Ithan shook his head. “And it doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me. It’s bothered me for fifteen thousand years. But it is just one branch of the many-headed beast of the Asteri rule.”
Ithan scrubbed at his face. “Can you help me or not?” He’d need all the help he could get. He wasn’t a leader. Judging by the mess he’d brought upon Sigrid, he wasn’t fit to make decisions for anyone. He’d tried to save her and failed—utterly and completely failed. That had been only one life. With all the Valbaran wolves now his responsibility …
He pushed back against the crushing panic and dread.
Jesiba was silent for a moment. Then she said quietly, “Let me see what I can do, pup.” Her mouth twisted to the side. “Bring Hypaxia with you.”
Bryce had just entered the guard booth when her phone rang. She’d needed one second—one fucking moment by herself—to process the enormity of what she’d done.
She’d thrown her parents into the Fae world.
Bryce had always found a sense of comfort in knowing that no matter what she did, or where she was, Ember Quinlan and Randall Silago were in Nidaros—that Ember and Randall existed and would always be there to fight for her. Fight with her, if she was being honest about her mom. Knowing that was a comfort, too.
And now they were … gone. Alive, yes, but on the other side of the universe.
They could have stayed on Avallen, safe with everyone else, with Cooper … but she’d needed them. Needed them to bargain with Nesta, but she also needed to know that her parents were forever beyond the Asteri’s reach.
It was selfish, she knew. Cowardly. But she didn’t regret it.
Though she really wanted one second to process it all. Hence the guard booth.
Until the phone rang.
She’d been out of range beyond the wall, so she had no idea if it was Urd’s timing or if her brother had been trying to reach her nonstop. She answered on the first ring.
“Ruhn?”
“I need you back here.”
“What’s wrong?”
Panic edged his every word. “Pollux intercepted the Depth Charger as it dropped people off at the edge of Avallen’s mists. He slaughtered a bunch of mer, and … I don’t know how, but he knew about Lidia’s sons. He took them. He’s holding them at the palace.”
Bryce nearly dropped her phone. Outside, Hunt was a shadow against the darkness and snow, their companions more shadows around him.
“I guess the Asteri figured out how to lure us to them,” Bryce said quietly.
“The Depth Charger sent us a transport pod—we’re about to get on it with Flynn and Dec and head to the Eternal City,” Ruhn said hoarsely. “But if those kids are in the dungeons—”
Her stomach flipped. “Okay,” she breathed. “Yes, of course. Okay. We’ll get on the helicopter immediately.”
Ruhn let out a shaking breath. “Did you … do what you needed to up there?”
“Yes,” Bryce said, and stepped out into the howling wind and brutal cold. Hunt and Aidas were huddled together, planning. Isaiah and Naomi stood a few feet away, chiming in, but keeping their distance, as if not quite comfortable with the idea that they were in the presence of a Prince of Hel. Celestina had flown off to Ephraim’s fortress in Ravilis moments ago, her white wings blindingly bright with the light off the snow. She’d keep him occupied, she’d promised again before leaving—with a final nod to Hunt that he hadn’t returned.
Beyond Hunt and the others, stretching into the distance, marched the armies of Hel. They covered all twenty-four and a half miles from the wall to the still-open Rift.
Unholy terrors—especially those pets that had been unleashed in Crescent City this spring. Bryce had never been more glad to have the Archesian amulet around her neck—though she wondered if it could hold off this many demons, should they choose to have a little snack.
From Hunt’s tense shoulders, she knew the horde was as unnerving for him as it was for her. Leathery-winged, horned humanoids that seemed to be grunt soldiers. Bone-white reptilian beasts that crawled on all fours—hounds of war. Skeletal beings with too-large jaws, stacked with needlelike teeth that gleamed with greenish slime. There were more—so many more: things that slithered, things that flew, things that surveyed Midgard with milky, sightless eyes and bayed at the anticipated bloodlust.
Hunt offered no commentary on the endless lines of nightmares. He’d spent a lifetime hunting down the very creatures now fighting for them—how many of Hel’s marching forces knew that, too? How many of them had crossed into Crescent City just a few months ago and gleefully unleashed pain and death?
But this time, true to the princes’ word, the beasts stayed in line. As for the soldiers, Bryce didn’t look too closely at the faces beneath their armor. At the spiky wings poking above the lines, the taloned hands gripping spears. But they did not speak, did not snarl. Their breath curled from beneath the visors of their helmets with each step through the frigid air. Each step deeper into Midgard.
All of Hel, ready to strike.
She had to trust that it would prove to be the right choice.
“Tell Lidia we’re coming,” Bryce said to Ruhn, still on the line. The thundering of their feet and hooves and claws shook the snowy earth. “And tell her we’re not coming alone.”
