Bryce swallowed hard. Such an ordinary exchange—proof of a normal, decent life.

  What had happened to them? How had he wound up in Kavalla? Part of her didn’t want to know, and yet … She read the emails again. The loving, casual exchange between siblings.

  Did any of the many people searching for Emile want to actually help him? Not use him, but just … protect him? Maybe he and Sofie would find each other at that rendezvous spot Danika had mentioned. Maybe they’d get lucky, and no one would ever find them.

  Danika had always helped those who needed it. Bryce included.

  And during the spring attack, when Bryce had run to Asphodel Meadows … it was the same feeling creeping over her now. The boy needed help. She wouldn’t walk away from it. Couldn’t walk away from it.

  But how did Danika factor in to all of this? She needed to know.

  Her stomach protested again. Right—dinner. With a silent prayer to Cthona to keep Emile safe, Bryce emerged from the bedroom and said, “I’m ordering pizza.”

  Ruhn said, “I’m in,” as if he’d been invited, but Bryce glanced at the shut door to Hunt’s bedroom.

  If she needed a moment, he’d sure as Hel need a lot longer.

  Hunt turned on the shower with a shaking hand. The blast and splatter of the water provided much-needed white noise, a quieting barrier against the world beyond his bathroom. He’d muttered something about needing a shower and walked in here, not caring what Danaan and Holstrom thought.

  Hunt peeled out of his battle-suit, dimly aware of the bruises along his ribs and his face, the brawl with Pollux almost forgotten.

  He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the surge of acid through his veins that made every breath torturous.

  Fucking Tharion. That stupid, arrogant asshole. Dragging them—dragging Bryce—into this. The River Queen might have no association with Ophion, but Emile was a rebel’s brother. Danika had possibly been a rebel herself. It brought them far too close to Ophion’s orbit.

  Of course Bryce wouldn’t have been able to drop it once she’d heard. He knew it was irrational to be pissed at her about it, because part of why he adored her was that she was the kind of person who would want to help, but … fucking Hel.

  Hunt sucked in a breath, stepping into the now-warm stream, and clenched his jaw against the rising thunder in his blood and the memories that came with it.

  Those strategy meetings in Shahar’s war tent; the bloody, screaming chaos of battle; his roar as Shahar died, a piece of his heart dying with her; the bolt of unrelenting pain as his wings were sawed off tendon by tendon—

  Hunt sucked in another breath, wings twitching, as if in an echo of that pain.

  He couldn’t let it happen again. If all of it had been for Bryce, to get here—then it had happened so that he’d know when to walk away, and keep her safe.

  But he hadn’t been able to find those words. Hunt focused on his breathing, on the sensation of his feet against the slick tiles, the dribble of water down his wings.

  And couldn’t help but think that warm water felt an awful lot like blood.

  Thirty minutes later, they sat around the dining table, four boxes of pizza stacked before them.

  “Carnivore’s Delight,” Bryce said with forced cheer to Hunt, sliding the meat-on-meat-on-meat pizza toward him. He offered a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She didn’t ask about that haunted gleam, though. Not with Ruhn and Ithan here. Not when Hunt had already made it pretty clear what was going through his head.

  They’d undoubtedly have it out the moment they were alone.

  “Carnivore’s Delight with extra sausage,” she said to Ithan, winking as she handed over the box. She could have sworn Ithan blushed. “And pepperoni with grilled onions,” she said to Ruhn.

  “What’d you get?” her brother asked. An attempt at normalcy after Tharion’s visit.

  Hunt and Ithan said at the same time, “Sausage and onion with extra cheese.”

  Bryce laughed. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed.”

  But Ithan and Hunt didn’t smile. She caught Ruhn’s glance from across the table, and her brother said into her mind, Ignoring all the shit with Tharion and Emile, it’s super fucking weird that Holstrom’s here.

  She started on her pizza and sighed at the combination of meat and cheese and slightly sweet sauce. I think it’s super weird for him, too.

  Ruhn bit into his slice. Honestly, don’t flip the Hel out, but you’re technically a Starborn Princess. And you’re now harboring an exiled wolf. I hate this political crap, but … I wouldn’t put it past Sabine to see this as an affront. The wolves are technically our allies.

  Bryce sipped from her beer. It’s not like he has any family left. Her heart ached. Believe me, he is fucking miserable that he has nowhere else to go.

  I can take him in. Her brother spoke with utter sincerity.

  Isn’t that the same political bullshit?

  I can say that I’m hiring him to work for the Fae side of the Aux. Claim it’s for a top secret investigation, which I suppose this stuff with Danika and Sofie and Emile is. Sabine can’t get around that.

  All right. But … give him a few days. I don’t want him to think I’m kicking him out.

  Why not? He was a dick to you.

  There were five years before that when we were close.

  So? He was a dick to you when you needed him most.

  And I shut him out when he needed me most.

  Bryce blinked, finding Hunt and Ithan watching her and Ruhn. The angel drawled, no hint of his previous haunted discomfort, “Some might consider it rude to have a silent conversation in front of other people.”

  Ithan raised his hand in agreement. How he’d figured out what was going on, she could only attribute to his keen wolf’s abilities. Or his athlete’s skill at reading opponents.

  Bryce stuck out her tongue. “Sorry you’re not magical, special Fae like us.”

  “Here we go,” Hunt said, diving into his slice. “I was waiting for this day to come.”

  “What day?” Ithan swigged from his beer.

  Hunt smirked. “When Bryce realizes how truly obnoxious being a princess allows her to be.”

  Bryce flipped him off. “If I have to suffer through the title, then you have to suffer through the effects.”

  Hunt opened his mouth, but Ithan said, “I heard you had your Ordeal that day this spring. Congrats?”

  Bryce went still. “Yeah. Uh, thanks.” She didn’t want to think about it—the nøkk, Syrinx nearly drowning, the tank … Syrinx rubbed against her ankles, as if sensing her distress. And Hunt, also reading it, said to Ruhn, “You had your Ordeal in Avallen, right? And our new friend Cormac was there?”

  Before Ruhn could answer, Flynn and Dec strode into the apartment with a key Bryce definitely hadn’t authorized. She whipped her head to Ruhn. “You gave them fingerprint access and copies of my keys?”

  Flynn slid into the chair beside hers and pulled her pizza toward himself. “We took Ruhn’s fingerprints when he was passed out during the Summer Solstice, as a way into the system. Then Dec added ours alongside them.”

  Declan dropped into the chair beside Ruhn, taking one of her brother’s slices and a beer from the bucket in the center of the table. “We made copies of the physical keys before he noticed they were gone.”

  “You’re really making me look good, you two,” Ruhn grumbled.

  Bryce shoved out a hand. “I’m changing my fingerprint system to something more secure. Give me that key.”

  Flynn only slid it into his pocket. “Come get it, babycakes.”

  Hunt shot the Fae lord a glare, and Declan snickered. “Careful, Flynn,” Dec warned.

  Ithan snorted, and the two males eyed him up. Of course they’d already noticed him—they were trained warriors—but they hadn’t yet deigned to acknowledge him.

  Flynn flashed a charming smile full of teeth. “Hi, pup.”

  Ithan’s fingers tightened into fists at the term. “Hey.”

  Declan gave a mirror grin to Flynn’s. “Bryce needed a new pet?”

  “Okay, okay,” Bryce cut in. “Let’s just say that we made a thousand dog jokes about Ithan, and he made a thousand Fae asshole jokes about you two idiots, and we now all thoroughly hate each other, but we can be adults and eat our food.”

  “I second that.” Hunt dug into his third slice, using his other hand to clink beers with Bryce.

  Flynn grinned again. “I thought I heard you ask Ruhn about his Ordeal. It was our Ordeal, too, you know.”

  “I know,” Bryce said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But he won the prize sword, didn’t he?”

  “Ouch.” Flynn clutched his chest.

  “Cold, B,” Declan said.

  Ruhn chuckled and leaned back in his seat, finishing off his beer before he said, “I was twenty-seven. My—our father sent me to Avallen to … check out the ladies.”

  “There was a Fae female from a powerful family who the Autumn King wanted Ruhn to marry,” Flynn explained. “Unfortunately, Cormac wanted to marry her, too. Neither married her in the end, of course.”

  Bryce groaned. “Please tell me all this tension between you two isn’t over a girl.”

  “Only partially,” Declan said. “It’s also because Cormac and his twin cousins tried to kill us. Cormac literally put a sword through my gut.” He patted his rock-hard abs.

  “Aren’t you Fae all … allies?” Ithan asked, brows raised.

  Flynn nearly spat out his drink. “Valbaran Fae and Avallen Fae hate each other. The Avallen Fae are a bunch of backward assholes. Prince Cormac might be Ruhn’s cousin, but he can drop dead for all we care.”

  “Strong family bonds, huh?” Hunt said.

  Flynn shrugged. “They deserved what happened during the Ordeal.”

  “Which was what, exactly?” Bryce asked.

  “Humiliation,” Declan said with relish. “A few weeks into our visit, King Morven—Cormac’s dad—ordered Ruhn to go see if he could retrieve the Starsword from the caves.”

  “Tell the whole story, Dec. Why did he order me to do that?” Ruhn growled.

  Dec sheepishly grinned. “Because I bragged that you could.”

  Ruhn cracked open another beer. “And?”

  “And I made fun of Cormac for not having gone to retrieve it yet.”

  “And?”

  “And I said that one Valbaran Fae warrior was better than ten from Avallen.”

  Bryce laughed. “So Uncle Morven sent you off to teach you a lesson?”

  “Yep,” Flynn said. “All three of us. We didn’t realize until we were in the mist—the caves are literally full of it—that he also sent Cormac and the asshole twins to hunt us in there.”

  “Starting blood feuds,” Bryce said to Declan, raising her hand for a high five. “Nice work.”

  Declan clapped her hand, but Ithan asked, “So your Ordeals happened then?”

  “Yeah,” Ruhn said, face darkening. “We all got lost in the caves. There was some … scary shit in there. Ghouls and wraiths—they were old and wicked. The six of us went from trying to kill each other to trying to stay alive. Long story short, Flynn and Dec and I wound up in these catacombs deep beneath the cave—”

  “Surrounded by bloodsucking spirits who were going to eat our bodies, then our souls,” Flynn added. “Or was it our souls, then our bodies?”

  Ruhn shook his head. “I got disarmed. So I looked in the sarcophagus in the center of the chamber where we were trapped, and … there it was. The Starsword. It was either die at the hands of those creatures or die trying to pull that sword from its sheath.” He shrugged. “Thankfully, it worked.”

  Declan said, “Bastards ran screaming from the cave when Ruhn drew the sword. Right to where Cormac and the twins were hunting us.” He grinned again. “The three of them had no choice but to flee back to their castle. King Morven was not happy. Especially when Ruhn returned with the Starsword and told him to go fuck himself.”

  Bryce lifted her brows at her brother. He smiled, lip ring glinting. “Not such a loser after all, huh?”

  Bryce waved him off. “Whatever.”

  Flynn suddenly asked Ithan, gaze on his tattooed neck, “You gonna keep that ink?”

  Ithan drained his beer. “What’s it to you?”

  Another charming grin. “Just want to know when I can tell you that Sabine and Amelie are two of the worst fucking people in this city.”

  Ithan grunted, but a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

  Bryce glanced to Ruhn, who said into her mind, Might not be such a bad idea for him to come stay with us.

  You really want to be roomies with a wolf?

  Better than an angel.

  Depends on what you’re doing with that angel.

  Gross, Bryce.

  Bryce tuned back into the conversation as Declan asked with a wicked smile that told her he was about to start shit, “So, who’s sleeping where in this apartment tonight?”

  Bryce couldn’t help glancing again at Hunt, who kept his face wholly neutral as he said, “I’m bunking with Bryce.”

  Bryce’s mouth popped open, but Ithan said, “Good. She snores.”

  “Assholes,” Bryce seethed. “You can both go sleep on the roof.”

  “Not enough distance from your snoring,” Ithan said, smirking.

  Bryce scowled, leaning down to pet Syrinx’s velvety ears.

  Hunt only winked. “I’ll get earplugs.”

  13

  Bryce barely slept. She was trying too hard to pretend that Hunt fucking Athalar was not sleeping beside her. The illusion was shattered every time she rolled over, got a face full of gray wings, and remembered that Hunt fucking Athalar was sleeping beside her.

  They hadn’t spoken about Tharion’s visit. Or about her decision to find Emile. So any fight on that front was likely still on the horizon.

  Naturally, Bryce woke up puffy-eyed, sweat-slicked, and with a pounding headache. Hunt was already up and making coffee, to guess by the sounds in the other room.

  Bryce slithered out of bed, earning a disgruntled yip from Syrinx at being disturbed. Her ringing phone aggravated her headache, and it didn’t get any better when she glanced at the caller ID.

  She mustered her most chipper voice. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello, Bryce.” Ember’s voice was calm. Too calm.

  Ithan smirked from the couch as she passed by, blindly walking toward the beckoning aroma of coffee. Gods, she needed some. Bryce asked her mom, “What’s up? You guys get home okay?”

  The wall of windows revealed a sunny day, witches and angels zooming by. And, Bryce realized in the morning light, the fact that she was still wearing her worn T-shirt that said Nidaros Community Center Camp Summer 15023 and … little else. Oops. No wonder Ithan was smirking. Her lilac lace demi-thong left little to the imagination. Bryce stifled the urge to tug her shirt’s hem over her half-bare ass.

  Hunt’s eyes darkened, but he merely leaned against the counter and silently offered her a cup of coffee.

  “Oh yes,” Ember said. “We got home, had plenty of time to do some grocery shopping and run a few errands.” Bryce put the phone on speaker and slid it onto the counter, backing away a few feet. Like it was a grenade of compressed firstlight about to explode.

  “Great,” Bryce said, and she could have sworn Hunt was trying not to laugh.

  “We also had plenty of time,” her mom went on, “to answer all the phone calls that we began to get, asking when the wedding is.”

  Hunt took a long sip of his coffee. Ithan just watched with a befuddled expression. Right. She hadn’t told him.

  Bryce gritted her teeth in an attempt at a smile. “You and Randall are renewing your vows?”

  Her mom fell silent. A wave building, cresting, about to break. “Is this engagement some scheme to prompt Hunt to finally confess his love for you?”

  Hunt choked on his coffee.

  Oh gods. Bryce was half-tempted to pour the boiling coffee over her head and melt into nothing. “For fuck’s sake,” she hissed, snatching up her phone and taking it off speaker. Even if Hunt and Ithan, with their heightened hearing, could no doubt make out everything Ember said. “Look, it’s not a real engagement—”

  “It certainly sounds like it is, Bryce Adelaide Quinlan.” Her mom’s voice rose with each word. “And it sounds like you’re engaged to the Crown Prince of Avallen! Do you know who his father is?”

  “Mom, I’m not going to marry him.”

  “Then why do so many of my former school friends know about it? Why are there photos of you two having a private meeting at your office yesterday?”

  Hunt’s wings flared with alarm, and Bryce shook her head. Later, she tried to signal.

  “Cormac ambushed me—”

  “He did what?”

  “In a nonphysical way. Nothing I couldn’t handle. And,” she said as her mom began objecting, “I have zero intention of marrying Prince Creepster, but you gotta trust me to deal with it.” She gave Hunt a look as if to say, You too.

  Hunt nodded, getting it. Drank some more coffee. Like he needed it.

  Her mother, however, hissed, “Randall is in a panic.”

  “Randall, or you? Because last I checked, Dad knows I can take care of myself.” Bryce couldn’t help the sharpness in her tone.

  “You’re playing games with Fae royals who will outsmart you at every turn, who have likely anticipated your reticence—”

  Bryce’s phone buzzed. She skimmed the incoming message. Thank Urd.

  “I appreciate your confidence, Mom. I have to go. I’ve got an important meeting.”

  “Don’t you try to—”

  “Mom.” She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t halt the roiling, rising power that made her body begin to shimmer, as if she were a pot boiling over with liquid starlight. “You don’t get a say in what I do or don’t do, and if you’re smart, you’ll stay the Hel out of this.”

  Stunned silence from her mother. From Hunt and Ithan, too.

  The words kept flowing, though. “You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through, and faced, and what I’m now dealing with.” Her mom and Randall would never know about what she’d done to Micah. She couldn’t risk it. “But let me tell you that handling this bogus engagement is nothing compared to that. So drop it.”