“Yes.”

  “That should be enough to question her, given your companions’ powers.”

  “Even five mer agents—”

  “Just you, Tharion.”

  He couldn’t stop himself as he said, “Some people might think you were trying to kill me off, you know.”

  Slowly, so slowly, the River Queen turned from her weaving. He could have sworn a tremor went through the riverbed. But her voice was dangerously smooth as she said, “Then defend my honor against such slander and return alive.”

  He clenched his jaw, but bowed his head. “Shall I say goodbye to your daughter, then? In case it is my last chance to do so?”

  Her lips curled upward. “I think you’ve caused her enough distress already.”

  The words struck true. She might be a monster in so many ways, but she was right about him in that regard. So Tharion swam into the clear blue, letting the current pound the anger from his head.

  If there was a chance of attaining Emile’s power, the River Queen would snatch it up.

  Tharion hoped he had it in himself to stop her.

  The chairs had turned into velvet couches on the dream bridge.

  Ruhn slid into his, surveying the endless dark surrounding him. He peered past the fainting couch to Day’s “side.” If he were to follow her that way, would he wind up in her mind? See the things she saw? Look through her eyes and know who she was, where she was? Would he be able to read every thought in her head?

  He could speak into someone’s mind, but to actually enter it, to read thoughts as his cousins in Avallen could … Was this how they did it? It seemed like such a gross violation. But if she invited him, if she wanted him in there, could he manage it?

  Flame rippled before him, and there she was, sprawled on the couch.

  “Hey,” he said, sitting back in his couch.

  “Any information to report?” she said by way of greeting.

  “So we’re doing the formal thing tonight.”

  She sat up straighter. “This bridge is a path for information. It’s our first and greatest duty. If you’re coming here for someone to flirt with, I suggest you look elsewhere.”

  He snorted. “You think I’m flirting with you?”

  “Would you say hey in that manner to a male agent?”

  “Probably, yeah.” But he conceded, “Not with the same tone, though.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, you caught me. I’m ready for my punishment.”

  She laughed, a full, throaty sound that he’d never heard before. “I don’t think you could handle the sort of punishment I dole out.”

  His balls tightened; he couldn’t help it. “We talking … restraints? Flogging?”

  He could have sworn he got a flash of teeth biting into a lower lip. “Neither. I don’t care for any of that in bed. But what do you prefer?”

  “It’s always the lady’s choice with me. I’m game for anything.”

  She angled her head, a waterfall of flame spilling down the side of the couch, as if she draped long, lovely hair over it. “So you’re not a … dominant male.”

  “Oh, I’m dominant,” he said, grinning. “I’m just not into pressuring my partners into doing anything they don’t like.”

  She studied him at that. “You say dominant with such pride. Are you a wolf, then? Some sort of shifter?”

  “Look who’s trying to figure me out now.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. Are you a wolf?”

  “Do I seem like one to you?”

  “No. You seem like …” Someone crafted of air and dreams and cold vengeance. “I’m guessing you’re in Sky and Breath.”

  She went still. Had he struck true? “Why do you say that?”

  “You remind me of the wind.” He tried to explain. “Powerful and able to cool or freeze with half a thought, shaping the world itself though no one can see you. Only your impact on things.” He added, “It seems lonely, now that I’m saying it.”

  “It is,” she said, and he was stunned that she’d admitted it. “But thank you for the kind words.”

  “Were they kind?”

  “They were accurate. You see me. It’s more than I can say about anyone else.”

  For a moment, they stared at each other. He was rewarded by a shifting of her flame, revealing large eyes that swept upward at the edges—crafted of fire, but he could still make out their shape. The clarity in them before her flame veiled her once more. He cleared his throat. “I guess I should tell you that the rebels were successful with their hit on the Spine. They’re bringing over the Asteri’s mech prototype to the Coronal Islands tomorrow night.”

  She straightened. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I was told by—my informant. A rebel contingent will be there to receive the shipment. Where it goes from there, I don’t know.” Cormac wanted Athalar to examine the Asteri’s prototype—see how it differed from the humans’ that the angel had faced so often in battle.

  Because Athalar was the only one among them who’d faced off against a mech-suit. Who’d apparently spent time in Pangera taking them apart and putting them back together again. Cormac, as he’d been fighting alongside the human rebels, had never battled one—and he wanted an outside opinion on whether replicating the Asteri’s model would be beneficial.

  And because Athalar was going, Bryce was going. And because Bryce was going, Ruhn was going. And Tharion would join them, as the River Queen had ordered him to.

  Flynn, Dec, and Ithan would remain—too many people going would raise suspicions. But they’d been pissed to learn of it. You’re benching poor Holstrom, Flynn had complained. Dec had added, Do you know what that does to a male’s ego? Ithan had only grunted his agreement, but hadn’t argued, a distant expression on his face. Like the wolf’s mind was elsewhere.

  “Who’s going to be there?”

  “He angled his head. “We got word that Pippa Spetsos and her Lightfall squadron will also be present. We have some questions for her about … a missing person.”

  She straightened. “Is Spetsos being given command of the Valbaran front?”

  “I don’t know. But we’re hoping we can convince whoever is there from Command otherwise. We suspect that she and Lightfall have left a trail of bodies all around the countryside.”

  Day was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do you know the name of the ship that’s carrying the prototype?”

  “No.”

  “What island?”

  “Why are you grilling me on this?”

  “I want to make sure it’s not a trap.”

  He grinned. “Because you’d miss me if I died?”

  “Because of the information they’d squeeze from you before you did.”

  “Cold, Day. Real cold.”

  She laughed softly. “It’s the only way to survive.”

  It was. “We’re going to Ydra. That’s all I know.”

  She nodded, like the name meant something to her. “If they catch you, running is your best option. Don’t fight.”

  “I’m not programmed that way.”

  “Then reprogram yourself.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t think I—”

  Day hissed, bending over. She twitched, almost convulsing.

  “Day?”

  She sucked in a breath, then was gone.

  “Day!” His voice echoed across the void.

  He didn’t think. Launching over the fainting couch, he sprinted down her end of the bridge, into the dark and night, flinging himself after her—

  Ruhn slammed into a wall of black adamant. Time slowed, bringing with it flashes of sensation. No images, all … touch.

  Bones grinding in her left wrist from where it was being squeezed tight enough to hurt; it was the pain that had awoken her, pulled her away from the bridge—

  Willing herself to yield, give over, become his, to find some way to savor this. Teeth scraping at her nipple, clamping down—

  Ruhn collided with the ground, the sensations vanishing. He surged to his feet, pressing a palm against the black wall.

  Nothing. No echo to tell him what was happening.

  Well, he knew what was happening. He’d gotten the sense of very rough sex, and though he had the distinct feeling that it was consensual, it wasn’t … meaningful. Whoever slept at her side had woken her with it.

  The impenetrable black loomed before him. The wall of her mind.

  He had no idea why he waited. Why he stayed. Had no idea how much time passed until a flame once more emerged from that wall.

  Her fire had banked enough that he could make out long legs walking toward him. Halting upon finding him kneeling. Then she dropped to her knees as well, flame again swallowing her whole.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The word was a hiss of embers being extinguished.

  “What was that?”

  “You’ve never had sex before?”

  He straightened at the slicing question. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “I said I was.”

  “You weren’t—”

  “No. He asked, albeit a bit suddenly, and I said yes.”

  Ruhn’s insides twisted at the utter iciness. “You don’t seem to have enjoyed it.”

  “Is it your business whether I find release or not?”

  “Did you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you orgasm?”

  “That’s absolutely none of your business.”

  “You’re right.”

  Again, silence fell, but they remained kneeling there, face-to-face. She said after a tense moment, “I hate him. No one knows it, but I do. He disgusts me.”

  “Then why sleep with him?”

  “Because I …” A long sigh. “It’s complicated.”

  “Indulge me.”

  “Do you only sleep with people you like?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve never fucked someone you hate?”

  He considered, even as the sound of her saying the word fucked did something to his cock. “All right. Maybe once. But it was an ex.” A Fae female he’d dated decades ago, who he hadn’t cared to remember until now.

  “Then you can think of this like that.”

  “So he’s—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Ruhn blew out a breath. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Why?”

  “One moment you were here, the next you were gone. It seemed like you were in pain.”

  “Don’t be a fool and get attached enough to worry.”

  “I’d be a monster not to care whether another person is hurt.”

  “There’s no place for that in this war. The sooner you realize it, the less pain you’ll feel.”

  “So we’re back to the ice-queen routine.”

  She drew up. “Routine?”

  “Where’s the wild and crazy female I was talking about bondage with earlier?”

  She laughed. He liked the sound—it was low and throaty and predatory. Fuck, he liked that sound a lot. “You are such a typical Valbaran male.”

  “I told you: Come visit me in Lunathion. I’ll show you a good time, Day.”

  “So eager to meet me.”

  “I like the sound of your voice. I want to know the face behind it.”

  “That’s not going to happen. But thank you.” She added after a moment, “I like the sound of your voice, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She chuckled. “You’re trouble.”

  “Is it cliché if I say that Trouble is my middle name?”

  “Oh yes. Very.”

  “What would your middle name be?” he teased.

  Her flames pulled back, revealing those eyes of pure fire. “Retribution.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Badass.”

  She laughed again, and his cock hardened at the sound. “Goodbye, Night.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To sleep. Properly.”

  “Isn’t your body resting?”

  “Yes, but my mind is not.”

  He didn’t know why, but he gestured to her fainting couch. “Then sit back. Relax.”

  “You want me to stay?”

  “Honestly? Yeah. I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel calm around you. There’s so much shit going down, and I … I like being here. With you.”

  “I don’t think most females would be flattered to be called ‘calming’ by a handsome male.”

  “Who says I’m handsome?”

  “You talk like someone who’s well aware of his good looks.”

  “Like an arrogant asshole, then.”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  Day rose to her feet, striding to the fainting couch. Her flames rippled as she lay upon it, and Ruhn jumped onto his own couch.

  “All I need is a TV and a beer and I’m set,” he said.

  She snickered, curling on her side. “As I said: typical Valbaran male.”

  Ruhn closed his eyes, bathing in the timbre of her voice. “You gotta work on those compliments, Day.”

  Another chuckle, sleepier this time. “I’ll add it to my to-do list, Night.”

  43

  Hunt breathed in the cool air off the turquoise sea, admiring the pristine water, so clear that he could see the corals and rocks and the fish darting among them.

  Down in the quay, hidden in a massive cavern, the cargo ship was still being unloaded. The sea cave, tucked into an isolated, arid part of Ydra, one of the more remote Coronal Islands, ran at least a mile inland. It had been selected because the water flowing within it ran so deep—deep enough for massive cargo ships to slide into its stone-hewn dock and unload their contraband.

  Hunt stood in the shadows just within the mouth of the cave, focusing on the bright, open water ahead and not the reek of the oil on the ancient mech-suits currently helping to unload the ship into the fleet of awaiting vehicles: laundry trucks, food trucks, moving trucks … anything that might reasonably inch along one of the island’s steeply curving roads or board one of the auto-ferries shuttling vehicles between the hundred or so islands of this archipelago without raising too much suspicion.

  Cormac had teleported everyone to Ydra an hour ago. Hunt had nearly puked during the five-minute-long trip with several stops—when they’d finally arrived, he’d sat his ass on the damp concrete, head between his knees. Cormac had gone back, again and again, until all of them were here.

  And then the poor fuck had to go head-to-head with whoever was in charge from Command, to convince them Pippa Spetsos shouldn’t be anywhere near this shit.

  Cormac had been unsteady on his feet, pale from the teleporting, but had left them with the promise to return soon. Bryce, Tharion, and Ruhn all sat on the ground—apparently not trusting their legs yet, either. Hunt hadn’t failed to notice that Ruhn kept reaching over his shoulder—as if to seek the reassuring presence of the Starsword. But the prince had left the blade back in Lunathion, not wanting to risk losing it here if all Hel broke loose. It seemed the male was missing his security blanket as their stomachs and minds settled.

  “I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast,” Tharion was saying, a hand on his abs. He wore only tight black aquatic leggings, equipped along the thighs with holsters for knives. No shoes or shirt. If he needed to shift into his mer form, he’d said upon arriving at Bryce’s place this morning, he didn’t want to lose much.

  Tharion’s timing had been unfortunate—he’d arrived at the apartment right after Hunt. Bryce was already propped up on the counter, gripping Hunt’s shoulders while he lazily licked up her neck. Tharion’s knock on the door was … unwelcome.

  That would all have to wait. But his mate had gotten him out of the barracks—he’d repay her generously tonight.

  Bryce now patted Tharion’s bare shoulder. “I’m weirdly satisfied that a mer can get airsick, considering how many of us suffer from seasickness.”

  “He’s still green, too,” Tharion said, pointing to Hunt, who grinned weakly.

  But Tharion went back to idly observing the cave around them. Perhaps too idly. Hunt knew Tharion’s main objective: get Pippa to talk about Emile. Whether that interrogation would be friendly was up to the mer captain.

  Ruhn murmured, “Incoming.”

  They all turned toward the cargo ship to see Cormac striding over to them. Still pale and drained—Hunt had no idea how he’d get them all out of here when this was over.

  But Hunt tensed at the fury simmering off Cormac. “What’s up?” Hunt said, eyeing the cave interior beyond Cormac. Tharion’s attention drifted that way as well, his long body easing into a crouch, ready to spring into action.

  Cormac shook his head and said, “Pippa’s already got her claws in them. They’re all eating out of her hand. The weapons are hers, and she’s now in charge of the Valbaran front.”

  Tharion frowned, but scanned the space behind the Avallen Prince. “Anything about Emile or Sofie?”

  “No. She didn’t say a word about them, and I couldn’t risk asking. I don’t want her to know we’re on the hunt as well.” Cormac paced. “A confrontation about Emile in front of the others would likely lead to bloodshed. We can only play along.”

  “Any chance of isolating her?” Tharion pressed.

  Cormac shook his head. “No. Believe me, she’ll be on her guard as much as we are. You want to drag her off for questioning, you’re going to have a battle on your hands.”

  Tharion swore, and Bryce patted his knee in what Hunt could only guess was an attempt at consolation.

  Cormac faced Hunt. “Athalar, you’re up.” He jerked his head to the massive ship. “They’re unloading the new prototype right now.”

  In silence, they followed the prince, Hunt keeping close to Bryce. The rebels—all in black, many with hats or masks on—stared at them as they passed. None of them smiled. One man grumbled, “Vanir pricks.”

  Tharion blew him a kiss.

  Ruhn growled.

  “Play nice,” Bryce hissed at her brother, pinching his side through his black T-shirt. Ruhn batted her away with a tattooed hand.

  “Real mature,” Hunt muttered as they halted at the foot of the loading platform. Ruhn subtly flipped him off. Bryce pinched Hunt’s side, too.