“Back,” the mystic wheezed, her voice broken and raspy. Unused for years. Her dark eyes filled with pleading. “Send me back.”

  “The Prince of the Ravine was about to rip apart your friend’s soul,” Ithan said, kneeling before her.

  “Send me back!” she screamed, the words barely more than a hoarse screech. “Back!”

  Not to Hel, Bryce knew—not to the Prince of the Ravine. But into the watery, weightless existence. Ithan got to his feet, inching away.

  “Get out,” the Astronomer seethed, hurrying toward his mystics. “All of you.”

  Bryce reached the bottom of the ramp, the Astronomer’s still-glowing rings blazing bright. Fury boiled in her chest. “You would have sacrificed them—”

  “BACK!” the female screamed again. The other two mystics stirred to consciousness, moaning. Bryce reached Ithan’s side and looped her arm through his, pulling him toward the doors. The wolf gaped at the mystics, the mess they’d made.

  The Astronomer knelt by the female, reaching for the tubes that Ithan had ripped free. “They cannot exist in this world anymore. Do not want to exist in this world.” He glared at her, cold fire in his pale gray eyes.

  Bryce opened her mouth, but Tharion shook his head, already heading to the exit. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said over a broad shoulder.

  “Send me back,” the female whimpered to the Astronomer.

  Bryce tried to hustle Ithan along, but the wolf gazed at the female, at the old male. His muscles tensed, like he might very well throw the Astronomer off the girl and haul her away.

  “Soon,” the old male promised, stroking the young woman’s wet hair. “You’ll be drifting again soon, my lamb.” Each of his rings glimmered, projecting rays around the mystic’s head like a corona.

  Bryce stopped tugging on Ithan’s arm. Stopped moving as she saw the pleading little hands pushing against the glass orbs on the Astronomer’s fingers.

  Do something. Be something.

  But what could she do? What authority did she have to free the sprites? What power could she wield beyond blinding him and snatching the rings off his fingers? She’d make it a block before the Aux or 33rd were called in, and then she’d have a fucking mess on her hands. And if Hunt was the one called to apprehend her … She knew he’d back her in an instant, but he also answered to the law. She couldn’t make him choose. Not to mention that they couldn’t afford the scrutiny right now. In so many ways.

  So Bryce turned, hating herself, towing Ithan along. He didn’t fight her this time. The Astronomer was still murmuring to his charges when Ithan shut the heavy doors behind them.

  The street seemed unchanged in the light summer rain that had started. Tharion’s face was haunted. “You were right,” he admitted. “It was a bad idea.”

  Bryce opened and closed her fingers into fists. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

  Tharion threw her a mocking grin. “You’re in the gray with us, Legs. Don’t get boring now that you’ve got a fancy crown.”

  A low growl slipped from her throat. “I always wondered why the River Queen made you her Captain of Intelligence. Now I know.”

  “What does that mean?” Tharion advanced a step, towering over her.

  Like Hel would she back down. “It means that you pretend to be Mr. Charming, but you’re just a ruthless backstabber who will do anything to achieve his ends.”

  His face hardened. Became someone she didn’t know. Became the sort of mer that people wisely stayed away from. “Try having your family at the mercy of the River Queen and then come cry to me about morals.” His voice had dropped dangerously low.

  “My family is at the mercy of all Vanir,” she snapped. Starlight flared around her, and people down the alley paused. Turned their way. She didn’t care. But she kept her voice whisper-soft as she hissed, “We’re done working with you. Go find someone else to drag into your shit.”

  She turned to Ithan for backup, but the wolf had gone pale as he gazed toward a brick wall across the alley. Bryce followed his stare and went still. She’d seen the male before them on the news and in photos, but never in the flesh. She immediately wished she still had the distance of a digital screen between them. Her starlight guttered and went out.

  Mordoc smiled, a slash of white in the shadows. “Causing trouble so early in the day?”

  40

  Nothing of Danika showed in Mordoc’s craggy face. Not one shade or curve or angle.

  Only—there. The way the wolf captain pushed off the wall and approached. She’d seen Danika make that movement with the same power and grace.

  Ithan and Tharion fell into place beside her. Allies again, if only for this.

  “What do you want, Mordy?” Tharion drawled, again that irreverent, charming mer.

  But the wolf only sneered at Bryce. “Curious, for a little princess to visit a place like this.”

  Bryce admired her nails, grateful her hands weren’t shaking. “I needed some questions answered. I’m getting married, after all. I want to know if there are any blemishes on my future husband’s pristine reputation.”

  A harsh laugh with too many teeth. “I was warned you had a mouth on you.”

  Bryce blew him a kiss. “Happy not to disappoint my fans.”

  Ithan cut in, snarling softly, “We’re going.”

  “The disgraced pup,” Mordoc said, his chuckle like gravel. “Sabine said she’d thrown you out. Looks like you landed right with the trash, eh? Or is that from lurking in so many alleys lately? Care to explain that?”

  Bryce sighed as Ithan bristled and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Before Mordoc could reply, Tharion said with that winning smile, “Unless you have some sort of imperial directive to interrogate us, we’re done here.”

  The wolf grinned back at him. “I ran a mer male like you to shore once. Drove him into a cove with a net and learned what happens to mer when they’re kept a few feet above the water for a day. What they’ll do to reach one drop so they don’t lose their fins forever. What they’ll give up.”

  A muscle ticked in Tharion’s jaw.

  Bryce said, “Awesome story, dude.”

  She looped arms with Tharion, then Ithan, and hauled them down the alley with her. She might be pissed as fuck at the former, but she’d take the mer any day over Mordoc. They’d always be allies against people like him.

  Danika’s father … She started shaking when they turned the block’s corner, leaving Mordoc in the shadows of the alley. She could only pray the Astronomer was as discreet as rumor claimed. Even in the face of one of the empire’s worst interrogators.

  They walked in silence back into the bustling heart of the Old Square, most of the tourists too busy snapping photos of the various decorations in honor of Celestina and Ephraim to notice them. A block away from the Heart Gate, Bryce halted, turning to Tharion. He looked at her with a frank, cool assessment. Here was the male who’d ruthlessly ripped apart his sister’s murderer. The male who …

  Who had jumped right into Fury’s helicopter to come help during the attack last spring.

  “Aw, Legs,” Tharion said, reading her softening features. He reached out a hand to toy with the ends of her hair. “You’re too nice to me.”

  She quirked her mouth to the side. Ithan remained a few steps away, and made himself busy scrolling through his phone. She said to Tharion, “I’m still mad at you.”

  Tharion grinned crookedly. “But you also still love me?”

  She huffed a laugh. “We didn’t get answers about Emile.” Only more questions. “Are you going back there?”

  “No.” Tharion shuddered. She believed him.

  “Let me know if you come up with any ideas about where the kid might be hiding.”

  He tugged on her hair. “I thought we weren’t working together anymore.”

  “You’re on probation. You can thank your abs for that.”

  He took her face in his hands, squeezing her cheeks as he pressed a chaste kiss to her brow. “I’ll send you some photos later. Don’t show Athalar.”

  Bryce shoved him. “Send me an otter and we’ll be even.” She might not approve or agree with Tharion’s methods, might not entirely trust him, but they had far more dangerous enemies at their backs. Sticking together was the only choice.

  “Done.” Tharion flicked her nose with a long finger. He nodded at Ithan. “Holstrom.” Then he sauntered down the street, presumably back to the Istros to check in with his queen.

  Alone with Ithan on the sun-baked sidewalk, Bryce asked the wolf, “Where are you going now? Back to Ruhn’s?”

  Ithan’s face was shadowed. Bleak. “I guess. You going to search for Emile?”

  She pulled a postcard from her purse. Ithan’s eyes brightened with recognition at her old tradition. “I’m actually sending this off to my mom.” She studied her once-friend as he again turned solemn. “You all right?”

  He shrugged. “I got my answers, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but …” She rubbed at her forehead, skin sticky with the remnants of sweat from her dance class hours ago. Years ago, it seemed.

  “I mean, it all sounds fine, doesn’t it? Connor’s in the Bone Quarter, and with a don’t-touch order, so …”

  But she could tell, from the way he paced a step, that this didn’t sit well. She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll find something. Some way to help him.” And everyone else trapped in the eternal slaughterhouse.

  It might have been the worst lie she’d ever told, because as Ithan left, he looked like he actually believed her.

  “Two weeks isn’t that long,” Isaiah consoled Hunt from across the glass table in the 33rd’s private cafeteria in the Comitium. They sat at the table reserved exclusively for the triarii, next to the wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

  Normally, Hunt didn’t bother with the cafeteria, but Isaiah had invited him for an early lunch, and he’d needed to talk. He’d barely sat down when he burst out with his recap of his conversation with Celestina.

  Hunt bit into his turkey-and-Brie sandwich. “I know it’s not long,” he said around the food, “but …” He swallowed, turning pleading eyes to his friend. “Bryce and I decided not to wait until Winter Solstice.”

  Isaiah burst out laughing, the sound rich and velvety. A few soldiers turned their way, then quickly resumed eating their meals. It might have bothered Hunt any other day, but today … “I’m glad you find my blue balls amusing,” he hissed at his friend.

  Isaiah laughed again, handsome as Hel in his suit. Given how many meetings he attended with Celestina—and now Ephraim—it was a miracle from Urd that his friend had found the time today to grab lunch with him. “I never thought I’d see the day when the Umbra Mortis came crying to me about a relatively light punishment because it interferes with his sex life.”

  Hunt drained his water. Isaiah had a point there. Of all the punishments he’d ever been given, this was the mildest.

  Isaiah sobered, voice quieting. “So what happened last night? Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine now. Sabine came to the apartment looking for Ithan Holstrom. Bryce got spooked. I arrived in time to convince Sabine not to start shit.”

  “Ah,” Isaiah said. Then asked, “And Baxian?”

  “He took it upon himself as my so-called partner to provide backup. However unwanted.”

  Isaiah snorted. “Points for trying?”

  Hunt chuckled. “Sure.”

  Isaiah dug into his own food, and for a moment, Hunt’s chest strained with the effort of keeping every truth inside. Isaiah had been with him throughout the Fallen’s rebellion. He’d have valuable insight into this shit with Ophion. Even if his advice was to stay the fuck out of it.

  “What’s wrong?” Isaiah asked.

  Hunt shook his head. His friend was too good at reading him. “Nothing.” He scrambled for another truth. “It’s weird to think that two weeks without Bryce is a punishment. If I so much as blinked at Sandriel the wrong way, she pulled out my feathers one by one.”

  Isaiah shivered. “I remember.” His friend had been the one to bandage his ravaged wings again and again, after all.

  “You like working for her? Celestina, I mean?”

  Isaiah didn’t hesitate. “Yes. A great deal.”

  Hunt blew out a long breath. He couldn’t tell Isaiah. Or Naomi. Because if they knew, even if they agreed to keep the shit with the rebels secret and stay out of it … they’d be killed, too. As it was, they might be tortured a little, but it’d become clear they knew nothing. And they might stand a chance.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Isaiah asked. Kindness shone in his dark eyes. “Even stuff with Celestina. I know it’s weird with the rankings between us, but … I’m the middle man between the 33rd and her. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

  He’d never really deserved a friend like Isaiah. “It’s not weird with the rankings between us,” he said. “You’re the leader of the 33rd. I’m happy to work for you.”

  Isaiah studied him. “I’m not the one who wields lightning. Or the one with a fancy nickname.”

  Hunt waved off the weight of what his friend said. “Trust me, I’d rather you be in charge.”

  Isaiah nodded, but before he could reply, silence rippled through the cafeteria. Hunt looked up on instinct, past all the wings and armor. “Great,” he muttered. Baxian, tray in hand, walked toward them. Ignored the soldiers who gave him a wide berth or fell silent entirely as he passed by.

  “Play nice,” Isaiah murmured back, and made a show of beckoning the male over. Not for Baxian’s sake, but for that of all the people witnessing this. The soldiers who needed to be presented with a unified leadership.

  Hunt finished off his sandwich just as the shape-shifting angel slid into a chair beside Isaiah. Hunt met his stare. “How’d it go with the Hind?” He knew the male could read between his words. Did you talk, you fucker?

  “Fine. I know how to handle Lidia.” No, I didn’t, you asshole.

  Hunt found Isaiah watching them with raised brows. “What happened with Lidia?”

  The Helhound answered smoothly, “She wanted to grill me about why I left last night. I didn’t feel like explaining to her that I’m Athalar’s understudy, and where he goes, I go.”

  Isaiah’s eyes darkened. “You weren’t so antagonistic toward her under Sandriel’s rule.”

  Baxian dug into his platter of lamb kofta and herbed rice. “You’ve been in Lunathion for a while, Tiberian. Things changed after you left.”

  Isaiah asked, “Like what?”

  Baxian gazed toward the glistening city roasting in the midday heat. “Things.”

  “I think that means we should mind our own fucking business,” Hunt said.

  Isaiah snickered. “He’s taking a page out of your book, Hunt.”

  Hunt grinned. “You’re confusing me with Naomi. I at least will tell you straight up to mind your own business. She’ll only imply it.”

  “With a death glare.”

  “And maybe a gun set on the table for emphasis.”

  They laughed, but Hunt sobered as he noted Baxian observing their volley, something like envy on his face. Isaiah noted it, too, because he said to the Helhound, “You can laugh, you know. We do that kind of stuff here.”

  Baxian’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’ve had more than ten years here. Forgive me if it takes a while to forget the rules of Sandriel’s territory.”

  “As long as you don’t forget that you’re in Lunathion now.” The threat of violence rumbled in Isaiah’s every word, belying the impeccable suit he wore. “That scar Athalar put on your neck will be nothing compared to what I do to you if you hurt anyone in this city.”

  Baxian’s eyes glittered. “Just because you weren’t interesting enough to merit being part of Sandriel’s triarii, don’t take it out on me with bullshit threats.”

  Isaiah’s teeth gleamed. “I had no interest in getting that close to a monster.”

  Hunt tried not to gape. He’d seen Isaiah lay down the law countless times. His friend wouldn’t have gotten to where he was without the ability to draw a line and hold it. But it was rare these days to see that vicious warrior shine through. Soldiers were turning their way.

  So Hunt cut in, “Sandriel would be thrilled to know that she’s still pitting us against each other all these years later.”

  Isaiah blinked, as if surprised he’d tried to intervene. Baxian watched him cautiously.

  Hunt took another deep breath. “Fuck, that sounded preachy.” Baxian let out a snort, and the tension dissolved.

  Isaiah threw Hunt a grateful smile, then rose. “I need to head out. I have a meeting with the Aux Heads.”

  Hunt winked. “Give Ruhn my love.”

  Isaiah laughed. “Will do.”

  With that, his friend strode off toward the trash receptacles. Angels lifted their heads as he passed; a few waved at him. The white-winged angel waved back, pausing at various tables to swap pleasantries. Isaiah’s smile was wide—genuine.

  Baxian said quietly, “Your friend was born for this.”

  Hunt grunted his agreement.

  “No interest in leading again?” Baxian asked.

  “Too much paperwork.”

  Baxian smirked. “Sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You led once, and it went poorly. I don’t blame you for not stepping up again.”

  Hunt clenched his jaw but said nothing else as he finished off his meal. Baxian was right on his heels as they strode to empty their plates and dump their trays. Hunt didn’t dare turn to tell the Helhound to back the fuck off. Not with so many eyes on them. He could hear soldiers whispering as they passed.

  Hunt didn’t bother to engage as Isaiah had. He couldn’t bear to look at the other soldiers. The people who’d be summoned to fight against Ophion.

  People he’d kill if they threatened Bryce. Fuck, if he replicated what he’d done at the Bone Quarter, he could fry them all in a second. No wonder the Asteri had considered the thunderbirds a threat—that kind of power was nothing short of lethal.