“What happened?” Ithan demanded.

  Jesiba had warned him before setting off through the halls to keep quiet, and he’d obeyed, even while they’d stopped in the dark dining hall for the former witch-queen to get some food. Apparently, she hadn’t eaten in days—that alone had banked his rising impatience. But now, safely behind the locked doors to Jesiba’s office, they’d get answers.

  “It’s as I said,” Hypaxia replied, voice a bit flat as she laid the tray of food on the table. “My mother’s former general, Morganthia, had her forces surround my fortress. They gave me their terms: yield the cloudberry crown or die. I offered the crown, but they somehow heard die.”

  “Can they do that?” Ithan demanded. “Just … kick you out?”

  “Yes,” Jesiba said, claiming her leather desk chair. “The witch-dynasties were founded in fairness, in the right to remove an unfit ruler. It was meant to protect the people, but Morganthia has used it to her advantage.”

  Hypaxia sank into one of the chairs before Jesiba’s desk and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. It was the most normal-looking gesture Ithan had ever seen the queen make. “Morganthia’s first act as queen was to order my execution. Her second was to undo my mother’s animation spell for my tutors.” She added at Ithan’s raised brows, “They are—were—ghosts.”

  How it was possible, he had no idea, but he still said, “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded her thanks, voice weighted with grief. “The spell was bound to the crown. And once that crown was hers …” She looked up at Jesiba, her face full of pleading.

  “You mourn for three people long dead,” Jesiba said coolly, and Ithan hated her for it. “Mourn for your people instead, now beholden to an unhinged queen and her coven.”

  Hypaxia straightened. “You sound as if you think I should have fought her.”

  “You should have,” Jesiba shot back, dark fire flashing in her eyes. A seed of Apollion’s power—transformed into something new. “Did you even try to hold on to your crown before conceding?”

  “I would have died.”

  “And retained your honor. Your mother would have been proud.”

  “A bloodless coup was a better alternative to fighting, to bringing in innocents to die in my name—”

  “Once she gets her reign underway, Morganthia will spill far more blood than what might have been shed for you.” Jesiba closed her eyes and shook her head with pure disgust.

  “I did not come here for your judgment, Jesiba,” Hypaxia hissed, wilder than Ithan had ever witnessed her.

  “As I am second in command of this House, you now answer to me.”

  Ithan reined in the shock that reared through him. Jesiba was second in command of the House of Flame and Shadow?

  And she thought Hypaxia was the best necromancer for Ithan? When she had all those others at her disposal?

  “And,” Jesiba went on to Hypaxia, heedless of Ithan’s surprise, “as someone who spent centuries with the witches, I have insights worthy of your attention.”

  Hypaxia snapped, “You abandoned our people.”

  “So did you.”

  Fraught, miserable silence filled the room. Hypaxia took one bite—just one—of her ham-and-cheese sandwich.

  Hypaxia didn’t know, Ithan realized, what Jesiba was, deep down. She still thought her a witch defector. “Look,” he said, “I know you guys have some baggage to sort out, but … I do have a pressing matter.”

  The former witch-queen turned to him, and her eyes softened. She took another bite of her sandwich, and said after she’d swallowed, “Jesiba apprised me of the situation when she called. I must admit, I was surprised by my sister’s involvement. But I am sorry for what happened.”

  He bowed his head, shame washing through him.

  Hypaxia went on, finishing off the sandwich in a few more bites, “But necromancy is no easy thing, Ithan.”

  “I remember,” he said.

  Her lips thinned. Yeah, she remembered every minute of their little encounter with the Under-King, too. But Hypaxia said, eyes bright with determination, “I will try to help you.”

  The breath nearly went out of him.

  Hypaxia added, “I’ll begin tomorrow. Today I have obligations. Oaths to swear.”

  Oaths to the Under-King, who’d been impressed enough by her skill at the Autumn Equinox that he’d told her he’d welcome her here. Even Morganthia Dragas would hesitate before tangling with the Under-King.

  “I don’t have much time,” Ithan said.

  “These oaths cannot wait,” Jesiba said. She pointed to the door of her office, an order to Hypaxia. “They must be sworn at the Black Dock before sunup, girl. You had your last meal. Now go.”

  Hypaxia didn’t hesitate. She left, robes flowing behind her, and shut the door.

  “Fool,” Jesiba said, slumping in her chair. “Innocent, idealistic fool.”

  Ithan stayed still, wondering if she’d forgotten he was there.

  But Jesiba raised her eyes to him. “She’s always been that way. Worse than Quinlan. Letting her heart lead her around like a dog on a leash. I blame her mother for keeping her locked away. No wonder Celestina swept her off her feet when—”

  Ithan started. “Wait. Hypaxia and Celestina?” Jesiba nodded. Ithan angled his head to one side. “The Hind said that Celestina was the reason the Asteri knew Bryce was headed for the Eternal City. Hypaxia wouldn’t—”

  “It’s over now,” Jesiba said shortly. “I have it on good authority that Hypaxia was … not pleased when she found out that Celestina had sold out your friends. But even that betrayal didn’t open Hypaxia’s eyes enough to see Morganthia’s move coming.”

  “She saw it,” Ithan said. “She came here this spring, asking Ruhn for protection from Morganthia. I guarded her—”

  “Protection,” Jesiba snapped. “Guarding. Not acting. She knew Morganthia was a threat and chose to wait for her to attack rather than strike her own blow against her. Rather than find allies, she played medwitch in the city, made love to that Archangel. Rather than gather power, she ran to a Fae Prince and a wolf to shield her.” She shook her head again. “Hecuba meant to protect her all these years by keeping her isolated from the corrupt covens. She hobbled her in the process.” Jesiba crossed her arms and stared at nothing, fury and disdain tightening her face.

  Ithan dared ask, “Why did you defect from the witches?”

  “I didn’t like the direction they were headed.”

  “Was this when Hecuba was queen?”

  “Long before that. The witches have been in decline for generations. A magical and moral rot.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair. “Naïve girl,” Jesiba murmured to herself.

  “What sort of oaths does Hypaxia need to swear at the Black Dock before sunrise?”

  “Old ones.”

  “That’s not—”

  “The mysteries of the House of Flame and Shadow are not for you to know.”

  “Will Hypaxia … change?”

  “No. Her oaths are nothing like those the Reapers swear. The establishment of allegiance is a legal process, but one that must be honored as the Under-King has decreed.”

  The Under-King … whom Jesiba served as second in command. “I didn’t know you were so important here.”

  “I’m flattered. And before you ask, no, Quinlan isn’t aware. People in this House don’t talk. But the City Heads know.”

  “And the Astronomer … he knows.” She nodded. “What’s your deal with him? You said you have a monthly bill.” He blew out a breath. “Fuck, I can’t pay you all that money—”

  “It’s a tax write-off for the House,” Jesiba said, waving a hand. “And I’m growing tired of all these questions from you. You’re asking things you have no right to know.”

  “Then stop telling me so much.”

  She smirked. “You’re not as boring as you seem.”

  “I’m flattered,” he echoed.

  Jesiba laughed quietly. And then said, “A few centuries after Apollion changed me, he heard whispers that I had … powers. Being a lazy wretch, he sent his brother Aidas to investigate. And presumably to kill me if I was indeed a threat.”

  She spoke the names of the demon princes like they were people she knew well.

  “But Aidas found that I posed no threat, and discovered that I still had the library and remained defiant to his brother’s demands to reveal its so-called power. In the strange way of things, Aidas and I became friends, of a sort. We still are. I suppose it’s because we’re so used to each other now. It’s been … a long time.”

  “So what did he report to Apollion?”

  “That I was to be respected, but left alone.”

  “And did Apollion listen?”

  A half shrug. “He sends Aidas to check in every once in a while.”

  “What does this have to do with the Astronomer?”

  “I’ve paid the Astronomer for years now to look for a way to undo Apollion’s grip on my soul.”

  Disgust roiled through him. “So you pay him and he does your bidding?”

  “I pay him,” she said blandly, “but he also stands to benefit from any discovery.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants to find the answer so he might use it to become young himself. He is human—or used to be, before so much foul magic tainted his soul. He fears death more than anything. He stands to gain a great deal should he succeed in his search. I suppose we’re two miserable creatures feeding off each other.” She cut Ithan a look. “He might seem frail, but he’s slippery. He’ll be seeking other ways to fuck you over.”

  He nodded to where he’d replaced the Godslayer Rifle on the wall. “Would you have given me the order to kill him today?”

  “No,” Jesiba said. “The rifle was just a threat. I still need him.”

  “I think scientists call it a symbiotic relationship.”

  “Well, it’s one I’ve been building toward long before he came into existence.”

  “So you’ve been using this creep and his hold on innocents—”

  “You didn’t seem to have any qualms about using him when you went for information about your brother.”

  The Astronomer must have told her about that visit. Ithan pressed on. “Can you … elaborate?” At her flat look, he added, “Please? Why did you even use the Astronomer in the first place?”

  “I thought it was the cats who had a problem with curiosity.”

  “Blame it on the part of me that chose to be a history major in college.”

  Her lips curled upward, but she sighed at the ceiling and said, “In my own research over the millennia, I learned that dragon fire is one of the few things that can make a Prince of Hel balk.”

  “You meant to use it against Apollion?” Ithan couldn’t help but gape at her sheer audacity.

  She studied her manicured nails. “I thought it might be a good … negotiating tool.”

  Ithan let out an impressed laugh. “Wow. So what happened?”

  “Rumor spread in the city that the Astronomer had possession of a dragon. I sought him out and offered to buy Ariadne on the spot.” She crossed her arms again. “The bastard wouldn’t sell her, not for anything in the world. But I realized that day that I might have another opportunity on my hands: I could use his mystics to hunt in Hel for answers on how to free me, and have the mystics guarded by Ariadne while they did so.”

  “But you said you wanted to wait to … not be young until the books were safe.”

  “Yes. But when that time comes, I want the solution in hand.”

  “Why?”

  “So I don’t talk myself out of it.” He felt, more than saw, the weight of all those years bowing her shoulders. “You’re not like most wolves I’ve known.”

  “Is that an insult or a compliment?” He honestly couldn’t tell.

  She uncrossed her arms and drummed her fingers on the desk. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Ithan Holstrom, about the truth. Too much for me to delve into here and now.” Her fingers halted, and her gaze simmered with ancient pain and anger. “But it was the wolf packs who reached Parthos first. Who started the slaughter and burnings. It was the wolf packs, led by Asteri-bred bloodhounds, who hunted down my sisters. I’ve never forgotten that.”

  Ithan’s stomach churned at the shameful history of his people, but he asked, “Bred?”

  A wry smile. “The gift already existed amongst the wolves, but the Asteri encouraged it. Bred it into certain lines. They still do.”

  “Like Danika.”

  Jesiba’s fingers resumed their drumming. “The Fendyrs have been a … carefully cultivated line for the Asteri.”

  “How so?”

  She fixed her blazing eyes on him. This female had lived through all of Midgard’s Asteri history. He could hardly wrap his mind around it. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the Fendyrs are so dominant? Generation after generation?”

  “Genetics.”

  “Yes, genetics bred by the Asteri. Sabine and Mordoc were ordered to breed.”

  “But Sabine took the title from her brother—”

  “At whose urging? She’s an angry, small-minded female. Her brother was smarter, but clearly no male of worth, if he sold his daughter to the Astronomer. He was likely deemed unfit by the Asteri, who coaxed Sabine into challenging him. And when Sabine’s dominance won out, they made sure Mordoc was sent to produce a line of more … competent Fendyrs.”

  “Well, Micah fucked that up for them.”

  “And who do you think pulled Micah’s strings?”

  Ithan was glad he was sitting. “You think the Asteri had Micah kill Danika? After all that trouble to breed her into existence?” Never mind that Connor and the Pack of Devils had been destroyed as a result of that scheming—

  “I think Danika was reckless and willful, and the Asteri knew they could never control her as they could Sabine. I think they realized that with Danika, they’d produced a wolf so powerful she rivaled the ones I faced in the First Wars. True wolves. And she was not on their side. She had to be eliminated.”

  Ithan sagged in his seat, but then a thought struck him. “The Under-King told Hypaxia and me that Connor … that the Under-King had been given a command not to touch my brother. Why?”

  Jesiba’s face was unreadable. “I don’t know. In all likelihood, it’s because he was an asset in life, and remains so in death.”

  “To who?”

  “The Asteri. They know what Connor means to Quinlan, to you—that makes his soul very, very valuable.”

  Ithan reeled. “I’m nobody.”

  Jesiba gave him a disdainful look, but her phone rang before she could answer him. She picked up after one trill.

  She listened silently until she said in a clipped tone, “Fine.” The sorceress hung up and fixed Ithan with a stare. “You’re wanted downstairs at the morgue.”

  “You guys have a private morgue here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hypaxia finished her vows in record time—she’s waiting down there for you. With Sigrid’s corpse.”

  46

  “This is as far as the ship can take you,” Commander Sendes said as Bryce and Hunt steadied themselves on the wave-tossed top of the Depth Charger. A gray sea crashed around them, the damp, howling wind blasting right through Bryce’s feeble jacket to bite at her bones.

  It wasn’t exactly how Bryce had pictured the entrance to the fabled Fae homeland.

  Hunt’s wings, nearly the same hue as the water, stretched wide, as if testing the air currents. On his other side, Baxian peered out over the water, his black wings braced against the wind.

  Not that they had far to fly.

  The wall of mist rose from the sea itself, stretching all the way into the clouds. Perhaps it continued above them. It was impossible to see.

  As she’d suspected, the mists were nearly identical to those around the Bone Quarter. Impenetrable, ominous … Were these truly thin places between worlds? And what the Hel was it about these mists that the Asteri couldn’t cross?

  “You can’t cruise under the mist?” Hunt asked Sendes, nodding toward the swirling mass ahead.

  Sendes shook her head, the bitter wind ripping strands of her dark hair free from its tight braid. “No. There’s no mist under the water, but there is a barrier—invisible, yet solid as stone.”

  “So they’re wards?” Bryce asked, shivering again. The fire sprites, who had been perched on her shoulders when she climbed into the freezing air, had left moments ago, three flames zooming out across the waves toward the distant landmass of Pangera. She’d offered up a prayer to Solas as they quickly vanished over the horizon.

  “Not wards in the way we know them,” Sendes explained, barely flinching at the frigid wave that slammed into the side of the ship, showering her. Bryce, a few steps away, hissed at the spray, leaping back a step. “They seem … naturally occurring, rather than spell-made. Even the Ocean Queen’s never given the order to attempt to breach the mists here. It’s like Midgard itself made these.”

  Bryce slid her chilled, wet hands into the pockets of her jacket. It did little to warm them. “Told you the mists are worth looking at.”

  Last night in bed, she’d wanted to talk to him about their quarrel. But she’d been exhausted, and so grateful to just be lying next to him, that she hadn’t said anything.

  Hunt peered up at the towering barrier of mist, feathers rippling in the wind. “So how’d the Fae get access in the first place?”

  “Those sleazeballs can wriggle their way into anything. The ancient ones were no different,” Bryce said.

  Sendes grunted in agreement, but her phone pinged, and the commander stepped away to read whatever message had come in.

  Baxian stepped up to Hunt’s other side, grimacing as another wave roared, showering them all this time. Fuck it was cold. “So what’s the plan?” the Helhound asked them. He jerked his chin to Hunt. “You and I fly recon along the wall, looking for a way in?”

  Hunt nodded grimly and said, “Maybe we’ll find a doorbell somewhere.”

  “Your brother’s late,” Baxian said to Bryce. “We shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary. There are probably Omega-boats nearby.”