Hunt didn’t know why they bothered to care, why they’d gone so far out of their way to prove a point, but … nothing surprised him where they were concerned. Hunt’s blood began to heat, his temper with it. Fucking monsters.

  “With my mating announcement, we will have a media frenzy. The ceremony and party will be a high-profile event. Royals and dignitaries will attend, along with Ephraim’s retinue.”

  Pollux straightened at that, delight in his bruised eyes. Celestina leveled that cold stare at him again. “I hope that with the Hind coming to visit, you will refrain from behaving as you did last night.”

  Baxian snorted. “Never stopped him before.”

  Pollux bared his teeth again, but Celestina went on, “Hunt, I’d like a word with you. The rest of you are dismissed.” Hunt froze, but said nothing as the others filed out. Isaiah and Naomi gave him warning looks before shutting the doors behind them.

  Alone with his Archangel, Hunt forced himself to breathe. To keep steady.

  She was going to rip into him for not controlling Baxian last night. For not being there to stop him from brawling, even if he’d been given no order to watch over him at all hours of the day. The punishment was coming, he could sense it—

  “The Autumn King informed me of Miss Quinlan’s engagement to Crown Prince Cormac of Avallen,” Celestina said.

  Hunt blinked.

  She continued, “I was hoping you could provide insight into the situation, considering that they will be expected to attend my mating celebration together.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. That this would even be something to discuss. And after what they’d done last night … Could he stomach it, seeing her in the arms of another male, even if it was just pretend?

  “It’s an arranged marriage,” Hunt said. “Their fathers insist.”

  “I’d assumed so.” Celestina’s mouth tightened. “I’m curious how you are feeling. You and Miss Quinlan are close.”

  “Yeah. We are.” Hunt rubbed his neck. “We’re dealing with it day by day,” he admitted.

  Celestina studied him, and Hunt made himself hold her gaze. Found nothing but … consideration and worry there. “You are exactly as I thought you’d be.”

  Hunt arched a brow.

  Celestina’s eyes fell to her hands, fingers twisting. “Shahar was my friend, you know. My dearest friend. We kept it quiet. The Asteri wouldn’t have approved. Shahar was already defying them in small ways when she and I became close, and she thought they would see our friendship as an alliance and try to … stop it.”

  Hunt’s heart stumbled. “She never said anything.”

  “Our correspondence over the years was covert. And when you rebelled … I had nothing to offer her. My legion in Nena is—was—an extension of the Asteri’s forces.”

  “You could have offered your own power.” Fuck, one more Archangel fighting with them that day—

  “I have lived with the consequences of my choice since then,” Celestina said.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I heard the whispers that you did what I had longed to do since I learned about Shahar’s death at Sandriel’s hands. What I longed to do every time I had to sit in the Asteri’s council room and listen to Sandriel spit on her sister’s memory.”

  Holy shit.

  “And I would like to apologize for my failure to extract you from the masters who held you in the years after Shahar fell.”

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “I tried—but it wasn’t enough.”

  Hunt’s brows bunched. “What?”

  She set her hands on the desk. Interlaced her fingers. “I amassed funds to … purchase you, but the Asteri denied me. I tried three times. I had to stop a century ago—it would have raised suspicions had I continued.”

  She had sympathized with the Fallen. With his cause. “All for Shahar?”

  “I couldn’t let someone she cared for rot away like that. I wish …” She blew out a breath. “I wish they’d let me buy you. So many things might be different now.”

  It could all be a lie. A lovely, clever lie to get him to trust her. If she’d sympathized with the Fallen, did she share the same sentiments about the Ophion rebels? If he told her all that was brewing in this city, would she damn them or help them?

  “The doubt in your eyes shames me.” For all the world, she sounded like she meant it.

  “I just find it hard to believe that during all the shit I went through, someone was out there, trying to help me.”

  “I understand. But perhaps I might atone for my failures now. I’d like us to be … friends.”

  Hunt opened his mouth, then shut it. “Thank you.” He meant it, he realized.

  Celestina smiled, like she understood it, too. “I’m at your disposal should you need anything. Anything at all.”

  He weighed the kind expression on her face. Did she know about Ophion and Cormac and Sofie? She’d somehow learned about him killing Sandriel, so she clearly was able to attain secret information.

  Hunt breathed deeply, calming himself as he said again, “Thank you.” He rose from his chair. “Since we’re being honest here … Sandriel’s old triarii is poison. I don’t know why Baxian is suddenly playing good guy, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there to rein him in last night.”

  “I don’t hold you accountable for that.”

  Something tight eased in Hunt’s chest. He went on, “Okay, but the rest … They’re dangerous people. Worse than the Princes of Hel.”

  She chuckled. “You compare them like you know from experience.”

  He did. But he hedged, “I hunted demons for years. I know a monster when I see one. So when the Harpy and the Hawk and the Hind come for the mating party … I’m begging you to be careful. To protect the people of this city. We might give Baxian shit about standing by while Pollux terrorized people, but … I had to stand by, too. I’ve seen what Pollux does, what he delights in. The Harpy is his female counterpart. The Hawk is secretive and dangerous. And the Hind …”

  “I know very well what manner of threat Lidia Cervos poses.”

  Even Archangels feared the Hind. What she might learn. And Celestina, secret friend to Shahar, who still cared about her friend centuries later, who carried the guilt of not helping … “Whatever you need,” Hunt said quietly, “anything you need to get through this mating ceremony, to deal with Sandriel’s cabal, you let me know.”

  Perhaps the Asteri had redistributed Sandriel’s triarii here not only to balance out the numbers, but to plant allies and spies. To report on Hunt—and Celestina.

  She nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Hunt.”

  He strode for the door, tucking in his wings. He halted at the doorway. “You don’t need to feel guilty, you know. About the shit that happened to me.”

  She angled her head. “Why?”

  He gave her a half smile. “If I’d gone to you in Nena, I never would have come here. To Lunathion.” His smile broadened as he walked out. “I never would have met Bryce.”

  And every horror, every nightmare … all of it had been worth it for her.

  Hunt found Baxian waiting at the end of the hallway, the male’s arms crossed, bruised face solemn. “How’d your special time go?” Baxian asked by way of greeting.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Hunt strode toward the veranda at the far end of the hall. He’d pay Bryce a lunchtime visit. Maybe they’d get naked. That sounded really fucking good.

  “The old gang’s getting back together in a few weeks. I assume you were warning Celestina about it.”

  “You’re a bunch of sadistic psychos.” Hunt stepped onto the empty veranda. The wind whipped at his hair, carrying the fresh scent of the Istros from across the city. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, and lightning danced in his veins. “I’d hardly call you the old gang.”

  Baxian’s mouth twitched upward, bruises stretching.

  Hunt said, “I’m not buying whatever bullshit you’re selling by beating the Hel out of Pollux.”

  “New city, new rules,” Baxian said, black feathers rustling. “New boss, who doesn’t seem to like Pollux all that much.”

  “So?” Hunt spread his wings.

  “So I don’t have to pretend anymore,” Baxian said. He lifted his face to the darkening sky. “Storm’s coming. Be careful up there.”

  “Thanks for your concern.” Hunt flapped once, feet lifting.

  “I’m not trying to fuck you over.”

  “You’re trying to be a pain in my ass, then?”

  Baxian snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Hunt settled back to the ground. “What was that shit with you and Pollux—about his seconds?”

  Baxian slid his hands into his pockets. “He’s a jealous fucker. You know that.”

  Hunt could think of only one person Pollux had ever shown any preference for beyond Sandriel. “You have a thing for the Hind?”

  Baxian barked a laugh. “Fuck no. Pollux is the only person insane enough to go near her. I wouldn’t touch Lidia with a ten-foot pole.”

  Hunt studied the male who had been his enemy for so long he’d lost track of the years. Something had changed. Something big, and primal, and … “What the fuck went on with Sandriel after I left?”

  Baxian smirked. “Who says it had anything to do with Sandriel?”

  “Why can’t anyone give me a direct answer these days?”

  Baxian cocked a brow. Thunder growled its warning in the distance. “You tell me your secrets, Athalar, and I’ll tell you mine.”

  Hunt flipped him off. He didn’t bother saying goodbye before launching into the darkening sky.

  But he couldn’t shake the sense that Baxian continued to watch him. As if he’d left something vital hanging in the balance. It seemed only a matter of time before it returned to bite him in the ass.

  23

  Ithan kept a step back from the small crowd of mer emergency workers gathered around Captain Ketos—and the body. He’d scented death before they’d even approached the pristine stretch of the Istros an hour north of Lunathion, a pretty green spot amid the oaks of the small forest. They’d taken wave skimmers up the Blue, as this section of the river was nearly inaccessible by foot. He supposed he might have made the run easily in his wolf form, but after getting one sniff of the corpse from a mile downriver, he was glad not to be in that body.

  “Selkie female,” Tharion was saying to the small group assembled, wiping the sweat from his brow. Even in the shadow of the mighty oaks, the sun baked the forest into kindling.

  Ithan swigged from his canteen. He should have worn shorts and sandals instead of the black jeans and boots of the Aux. He had no business wearing these clothes anyway.

  Tharion went on, surveying the little heap by the river’s edge. It had been found this morning by a passing otter. “Killed execution-style.”

  Death was nothing new. Ithan just wished he hadn’t become so well acquainted with it that at age twenty-two, it was already something he barely batted an eye at. But that was the life of a wolf. Of a Holstrom.

  Tharion pointed. “Gorsian bullet to the right thigh to keep her from shifting into her seal form, then a slow bleed-out from a slice to her left femoral artery. Repeated lacerations indicate the murderer reopened the thigh incision continuously to keep her bleeding until she died.”

  Cthona spare him. “Or until whoever it was got their answers,” Ithan said.

  The group—three of Tharion’s people—turned his way. He’d been brought for one reason—to use his nose. Apparently, that hadn’t included speaking.

  “Or that,” Tharion said, crossing his arms with a pointedness that said:

  Keep it quiet; I have the same instinct you do about this.

  At least, that was what Ithan thought it conveyed. He’d gotten pretty good at assessing others’ expressions and tells thanks to his years on the sunball field.

  Tharion said to the group, “Right. Continue documenting the scene, then let’s see if we can find a name for her.” People peeled away to follow his orders, and Tharion stepped aside to sniff the air.

  A male voice spoke from Ithan’s left. “Hey, you used to play sunball, right?” Ithan found a ruddy-faced mer in a blue BCIU windbreaker standing a few feet away, a walkie-talkie in hand.

  Ithan grunted. “Yeah.”

  “For CCU—you were that Holstrom kid.”

  Were. Everything in his life was were these days. You were Connor’s brother. You were part of a pack. You were in the Aux. You were a sunball player. You were Bryce’s friend. You were normal. You were happy.

  “One and only.”

  “Why’d you quit? You could be, like, MVP in the pros right now.”

  Ithan didn’t smile, tried his best to appear disinterested. “Had other plans.”

  “Than playing sunball professionally?” The male gaped. As if a selkie’s ravaged body didn’t lie mere feet away.

  Everyone was watching now. Ithan had grown up with eyes on him like that—had triumphed and failed spectacularly in front of thousands of people, day after day, for years. It didn’t make it easier.

  “Holstrom.” Tharion’s voice cut through the air, mercifully drawing him from the conversation. Ithan gave the male a nod and aimed for where the captain stood beside the river. Tharion murmured, “Smell anything?”

  Ithan inhaled. Blood and rot and water and iron and—

  Another sniff, taking him deeper, pulling back layers. Salt and water and seal. That was the selkie. Then— “There’s a human scent here. On her.” He pointed to the selkie left amid the leaves and bone-dry brush. “Two of them.”

  Tharion said nothing, idly twirling a ribbon of water between his fingers. The mer were similar to the water sprites in that regard—able to summon water from thin air.

  Ithan began to pace through the clearing, careful of the tracks—noting and scenting the slight disturbances in the dirt and leaves and sticks.

  He sniffed again, brain downloading and sorting all those scents.

  “Wouldn’t your wolf form be easier?” Tharion asked, leaning against a tree.

  “No,” Ithan lied, and kept moving. He couldn’t bear to take that form, to feel that empty-souled wolf.

  He sniffed a few more times, then stalked up to Tharion and said quietly, “There’s a human female scent all over this scene. But the second scent—it’s a human male. A little strange, but human.” Exactly as Ithan would have described a part-thunderbird human. “It’s only on the selkie. A little whiff.”

  “So what does that tell you?” Tharion asked with equal quiet, monitoring the others documenting the crime scene.

  “My guess?”

  “Yeah, tell me your gut impressions.”

  Ithan noted the mer around him. Their hearing might not be as keen as his, but … “I think we should be somewhere more secure.”

  Tharion made a hmm of contemplation. Then he called to the group of investigators, “Any further insights, kids?”

  No one answered.

  Tharion sighed. “All right. Let’s get her bagged up and brought back to the lab. I want tests done as soon as possible, along with an ID.”

  The others broke apart, heading to the aquatic vehicles lined up along the Blue River’s edge, tethered in place with their water magic. Leaving Ithan and Tharion with the body.

  The mer male arched a brow. “I need to head to the Blue Court, but I’d like to hear your findings while they’re fresh. Do you have time?”

  “I got nothing but time,” Ithan answered.

  He wondered when having all that time would stop feeling like such a chore.

  “So, let’s hear it,” Tharion said as he slumped into his office chair and turned on his computer.

  Ithan Holstrom stood at the wall of glass, gazing out at the deep blue of the Istros, observing the fish and otters dart past. The wolf had said little while Tharion had brought him Beneath, though from his wide eyes, it was clear he’d never been here before.

  Ithan said without turning, “Let’s assume the players involved are the ones we think they are. I think the selkie found the kid, helped him on his way toward Lunathion. Not soon afterward, given how his scent is still on her clothes, the selkie was found and tortured by a human woman for intel on Emile’s location. From what we know about her, my guess is Pippa Spetsos.”

  Tharion’s mouth twisted to the side. “My techs said the kill was about a day old. That line up with your info?”

  “Yeah, though probably less than a day. But the kid’s scent on her clothes was older than that. Only by six hours or so.”

  “Why?” Tharion propped his chin on his hands.

  “Because she couldn’t have gone in the water—or changed her clothes, if the scent was still on her. As far as I know, selkies rarely go a day before shifting and swimming. The water would have washed the kid’s scent from her.”

  Tharion considered, turning over the information in his mind. “We didn’t pick up any tracks from the kid in the clearing, though.”

  “No,” Ithan agreed, turning back to him. “Emile was never in that clearing. The selkie must have come there afterward.”

  Tharion peered at the map of Crescent City and its surrounding lands behind his desk. “That spot is between the boat I investigated and the city. If he linked up with the selkie somewhere around there, he is indeed moving toward Lunathion. And if that kill is less than a day old, he might have just gotten here.”

  “And Pippa Spetsos, if that’s whose scent was on the female, could be here as well.”

  “Or one of her soldiers, I guess,” Tharion admitted. “Either way, Lightfall is near. We need to be careful.”

  “Pippa is a human woman.”

  “She’s a dangerous rebel, capable of killing Vanir thanks to those gorsian bullets. And a psychopath who delights in killing even the most innocent. We’re not going near her without prep and thought.” Hopefully they would find Emile first and not need to deal with Pippa at all.