Her sword—it was her sword, and Ruhn’s. And with that light in her veins, with the star that slumbered inside her heart, the Starsword had recognized her not as a royal, worthy Fae, but as kin. Kin to those who had forged it so long ago.

  Like called to like. Even the kristallos’s venom in her leg had not been able to stifle the essence of what she was. It had blocked her access to the light, but not what lay stamped in her blood. The moment the venom had come out of her leg, as Hunt’s lips had met hers that first time, she’d felt it awaken again. Freed.

  And now here she was, the starlight building within her hands.

  It was a useless gift, she’d decided as a child. It couldn’t do much at all beyond blinding people, as she’d done to her father’s men when they came after her and her mother and Randall, as had happened to the Oracle when the seer peered into her future and beheld only her blazing light, as she’d done to those asp-hole smugglers.

  Only her father’s unfaltering Fae arrogance and snobbery had kept him from realizing it after her Oracle visit. The male was incapable of imagining anyone but pure Fae being blessed by fate.

  Blessed—as if this gift made her something special. It didn’t. It was an old power and nothing more. She had no interest in the throne or crown or palace that could come with it. None.

  But Ruhn…He might have claimed otherwise, but the first time he’d told her about his Ordeal, when he’d won the sword from its ancient resting place in Avallen, she’d seen how his face had glowed with pride that he’d been able to draw the sword from its sheath.

  So she’d let him have it, the title and the sword. Had tried to open Ruhn’s eyes to their father’s true nature as often as she could, even if it made her father resent her further.

  She would have kept this burning, shining secret inside her until her dying day. But she’d realized what she had to do for her city. This world.

  The dregs of the light flowed out of her chest, all of it now cupped between her palms.

  She’d never done it before—wholly removed the star itself. She’d only glowed and blinded, never summoned its burning core from inside her. Her knees wobbled, and she gritted her teeth against the strain of holding the light in place.

  At least she’d spoken to Hunt one last time. She hadn’t expected him to be able to pick up. Had thought the phone would go right to audiomail where she could say everything she wanted. The words she still hadn’t said aloud to him.

  She didn’t let herself think of it as she took the final step to the Gate’s quartz archway.

  She was Starborn, and the Horn lay within her, repaired and now filled with her light.

  This had to work.

  The quartz of the Gate was a conduit. A prism. Able to take light and power and refract them. She closed her eyes, remembering the rainbows this Gate had been adorned with on the last day of Danika’s life, when they’d come here together. Made their wishes.

  This had to work. A final wish.

  “Close,” Bryce whispered, shaking.

  And she thrust her starlight into the Gate’s clear stone.

  88

  Hunt had no words in his head, his heart, as Bryce shoved her burning starlight into the Gate.

  White light blasted from the Gate’s clear stone.

  It filled the square, shooting outward for blocks. Demons caught in its path screamed as they were blinded, then fled. Like they remembered whom it had once belonged to. How the Starborn Prince had battled their hordes with it.

  The Starborn line had bred true—twice.

  Ruhn’s face drained of color as he remained kneeling and beheld his sister, the blazing Gate. What she’d declared to the world. What she’d revealed herself to be.

  His rival. A threat to all he stood to inherit.

  Hunt knew what the Fae did to settle disputes to the throne.

  Bryce possessed the light of a star, such as hadn’t been witnessed since the First Wars. Jesiba looked like she’d seen a ghost. Fury gaped at the screen. When the flare dimmed, Hunt’s breath caught in his throat.

  The void within the Heart Gate was gone. She’d channeled her light through the Horn somehow—and sealed the portal.

  In the stunned silence of the conference room, they watched Bryce pant, leaning against one side of the Gate before sliding to the slate tiles. The crystal archway still shone. A temporary haven that would make any demons think twice before approaching, fearful of a Starborn descendant.

  But the rest of the Gates in the city remained open.

  A phone rang—an outgoing call, linked to the room’s speakers. Hunt scanned the room for the culprit and found the Autumn King with his phone in his hands. But the male was apparently too lost in the rage crinkling his face to care that the call was audible to everyone. Declan Emmet showed no sign of even trying to make the call private as Ember Quinlan picked up the phone and said, “Who is—”

  “You’ve known she was Starborn Fae all these years and lied to me about it,” the king bit out.

  Ember didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been waiting for this call for more than twenty years.”

  “You bitch—”

  A low, agonized laugh. “Who do you think ended your goons all those years ago? Not me and Randall. They had her in their grasp—by the neck. And they had us at gunpoint.” Another laugh. “She realized what they were going to do to me. To Randall. And she fucking blinded them.”

  What blinds an Oracle?

  Light. Light the way the Starborn had possessed it.

  Bryce still sat against the archway, breathing hard. Like summoning that star, wielding the Horn, had taken everything out of her.

  Ruhn murmured, more to himself than anyone, “Those books claimed there were multiple Starborn in the First Wars. I told her, and she…” He blinked slowly. “She already knew.”

  “She lied because she loves you,” Hunt ground out. “So you could keep your title.”

  Because compared to the Starborn powers he’d seen from Ruhn…Bryce’s were the real deal. Ruhn’s ashen face contorted with pain.

  “Who knew?” the Autumn King demanded of Ember. “Those fucking priestesses?”

  “No. Only me and Randall,” Ember said. “And Danika. She and Bryce got into some serious trouble in college and it came out then. She blinded the males that time, too.”

  Hunt remembered the photo on the guest room dresser—taken in the aftermath of that. Their closeness and exhaustion the result not just of a battle fought and won but of a deadly secret revealed at last.

  “Her tests showed no power,” the Autumn King spat.

  “Yes,” Ember said quietly. “They were correct.”

  “Explain.”

  “It is a gift of starlight. Light, and nothing more. It never meant anything to us, but to your people…” Ember paused. “When Bryce was thirteen, she agreed to visit you. To meet you—to see if you could be trusted to know what she possessed and not be threatened by it.”

  To see if he could handle that such a gift had gone to a half-human bastard and not Ruhn.

  Hunt saw no fear on the prince’s face, though. No envy or doubt. Only sorrow.

  “But then she met your son. And she told me that when she saw his pride in his Chosen One status, she realized she couldn’t take it away from him. Not when she also saw that was the only value you placed in him. Even if it meant she would be denied everything she was due, even if revealing herself would have meant she could lord it over you, she wouldn’t do that to Ruhn. Because she loved him that much more than she hated you.”

  Ruhn’s face crumpled.

  Ember spat at the Autumn King, “And then you left her on the curb like garbage.” She let out another broken laugh. “I hope she finally returns the favor, you fucking asshole.” She hung up.

  The Autumn King hurled a pitcher of water before him across the room, so hard it shattered against the wall.

  Hunt’s blood thrummed through him as a conversation from weeks ago flitted back to him: how he’d spoken of having gifts he didn’t really want. Bryce had agreed, to his surprise, and then seemed to catch herself before joking about attracting assholes. Deflecting, hiding the truth.

  A soft female hand landed atop Hunt’s. Queen Hypaxia. Her dark brown eyes glowed when he looked over in surprise. Her power was a song of warmth through him. It was a hammer to every wall and obstacle placed on him. And he felt that power focus on the halo’s spell upon his brow.

  She’d asked him weeks ago what he’d do if she removed it. Whom he’d kill.

  His first target was in this room with them. His eyes darted toward Sandriel, and Hypaxia’s chin dipped, as if in confirmation.

  Still Bryce sat against the Gate. As if trying to rally herself. As if wondering how she could possibly do this six more times.

  Demons in adjacent streets beheld the starlight still glowing from the Old Square Gate and stayed back. Yes, they remembered the Starborn. Or knew the myths.

  Aidas had known. Had watched her all these years, waiting for her to reveal herself.

  Hypaxia’s power flowed silently and unnoticed into Hunt.

  Sandriel slid her phone into her pocket. As if she’d been using it under the table.

  Ruhn saw it, too. The Crown Prince of the Fae asked with savage quiet, “What did you do?”

  Sandriel smiled. “I took care of a problem.”

  Hunt’s power growled within him. She’d have told the Asteri all she’d seen. Not only what glowed in Bryce’s veins—but about the Horn, too.

  They were likely already moving on the information. Quickly. Before anyone else could ponder Bryce’s gifts. What it might mean to the people of the world if they knew a half-human female, heir to the Starborn line, now bore the Horn in her very body. Able to be used only by her—

  The truth clicked into place.

  It was why Danika had inked it on Bryce. Only the Starborn line could use the Horn.

  Micah had believed the synth and Bryce’s bloodline would be enough to let him use the Horn, overriding the need for the true Starborn power. The Horn had indeed been healed—but it only worked because Bryce was heir to the Starborn line. Object and wielder had become one.

  If Bryce willed it, the Horn could open a portal to any world, any realm. Just as Micah had wanted to do. But that kind of power—belonging to a half-human, no less—could endanger the sovereignty of the Asteri. And the Asteri would take out any threat to their authority.

  A roar began building in Hunt’s bones.

  Ruhn snarled, “They can’t kill her. She’s the only one who can shut those fucking Gates.”

  Sandriel leaned back in her chair. “She hasn’t made the Drop yet, Prince. So they most certainly can.” She added, “And it looks like she’s wholly drained anyway. I doubt she’ll be able to close a second Gate, let alone six more.”

  Hunt’s fingers curled.

  Hypaxia met his stare again and smiled slightly. An invitation and challenge. Her magic shimmered through him, over his forehead.

  Sandriel had informed the Asteri—so they’d kill Bryce.

  His Bryce. Hunt’s attention narrowed on the back of Sandriel’s neck.

  And he rose to his feet as Hypaxia’s magic dissolved the halo from his brow.

  89

  The conference room shook.

  Ruhn had kept Sandriel distracted, kept her talking while Queen Hypaxia had freed Hunt from the halo’s grip. He’d sensed the ripple of her power down the table, then seen Athalar’s halo begin to glow, and had understood what the witch, her hand on Hunt’s, was doing.

  There was nothing but cold death in Hunt’s eyes as the halo tattoo flaked away from his brow. The true face of the Umbra Mortis.

  Sandriel whirled, realizing too late who now stood at her back. No mark across his brow. Something like pure terror crossed the Archangel’s face as Hunt bared his teeth.

  Lightning gathered around his hands. The walls cracked. Debris rained from the ceiling.

  Sandriel was too slow.

  Ruhn knew Sandriel had signed her own death warrant when she didn’t bring her triarii back with her. And stamped the official seal on it the moment she’d revealed that she’d put Bryce in the Asteri’s line of fire.

  Even her Archangel’s might couldn’t protect her from Athalar. From what he felt for Bryce.

  Athalar’s lightning skittered over the floors. Sandriel barely had time to lift her arms and summon a gale-force wind before Hunt was upon her.

  Lightning erupted, the entire room cracking with it.

  Ruhn threw himself under a table, grabbing Hypaxia with him. Slabs of stone slammed onto the surface above them. Flynn swore up a storm beside him, and Declan crouched low, curled around a laptop. A cloud of debris filled the space, choking them. Ether coated Ruhn’s tongue.

  Lightning flared, licking and crackling through the room.

  Then time shifted and slowed, sliding by, by, by—

  “Fuck,” Flynn was saying between pants, each word an eternity and a flash, the world tipping over again, slowing and dragging. “Fuck.”

  Then the lightning stopped. The cloud of debris pulsed and hummed.

  Time began its normal pace, and Ruhn crawled out from under the table. He knew what he’d find within the whirling, electrified cloud everyone gaped at. Fury Axtar had a gun pointed at where the Archangel and Hunt had stood, debris whitening her dark hair.

  Hypaxia helped Ruhn to his feet. Her eyes were wide as they scanned the cloud. The witch-queen had undoubtedly known that Sandriel would kill her for freeing Hunt. She’d taken a gamble that the Umbra Mortis would be the one to walk away.

  The cloud of debris cleared, lightning fading into the dust-choked air. Her gamble had paid off. Blood splattered Hunt’s face as his feathers fluttered on a phantom wind.

  And from his hand, gripped by the hair, dangled Sandriel’s severed head.

  Her mouth was still open in a scream, smoke rippling from her lips, the skin of her neck so damaged Ruhn knew Hunt had torn it off with his bare hands.

  Hunt slowly lifted the head before him, as if he were one of the ancient heroes of the Rhagan Sea surveying a slain creature. A monster.

  He let the Archangel’s head drop. It thumped and lolled to the side, smoke still trickling from the mouth, the nostrils. He’d flayed her with his lightning from the inside out.

  The angels in the room all knelt on one knee. Bowed. Even a wide-eyed Isaiah Tiberian. No one on the planet had that sort of power. No one had seen it fully unleashed in centuries.

  Two Governors dead in one day. Slain by his sister and his sister’s…whatever Hunt was. From the awe and fear on his father’s face, Ruhn knew the Autumn King was wondering about it. Wondering if Hunt would kill him next, for how he’d treated Bryce.

  Bryce, his Starborn sister.

  Ruhn didn’t know what to think about it. That she’d thought he valued the Chosen One bullshit more than her. And when that fight had happened, had she let things rupture between them to keep him from ever learning what she was? She’d walked away from the privilege and honor and glory—for him.

  And all those warnings she’d given him about the Autumn King, about their father killing the last Starborn…She’d lived with that fear, too.

  Hunt threw the Autumn King a feral grin.

  Ruhn felt a sick amount of satisfaction as his father went pale.

  But then Hunt looked to Fury, who was pulling debris from her dark hair, and growled, “Fuck the Asteri. Get your gods-damned helicopter over here.”

  * * *

  Every decision, every order flowed from a long-quiet place within Hunt.

  He sizzled with power, the lightning in his veins roaring to crack free into the world, to burn and sunder. He suppressed it, promised it he’d allow it to flow unchecked as soon as they reached the city—but they had to reach the city first.

  Fury shook slightly—as if even she had forgotten what he could do. What he’d done to Sandriel with primal satisfaction, sinking into a place of such rage that there had only been his lightning and his enemy and the threat she posed to Bryce. But Fury said, “The helicopter is landing on the roof now.”

  Hunt nodded and ordered the remaining angels without looking at them, “We move out.”

  Not one of them objected to his command. He hadn’t given a shit that they’d bowed—whatever the fuck that meant. He’d only cared that they flew to Lunathion as fast as they could.

  Fury was already at the exit, phone at her ear. Hunt strode after her, through the room full of rustling wings and stomping feet, but looked back over his shoulder. “Danaan, Ketos—you in?” He needed them.

  Ruhn shot to his feet without question; Tharion waited until he got the nod from the River Queen’s daughter before rising. Amelie Ravenscroft stepped forward, ignoring Sabine’s glare, and said, “I’m going with you, too.” Hunt nodded again.

  Flynn was already moving, not needing to voice that he’d join his prince—to save his princess. Declan pointed to the screens. “I’ll be your eyes in the field.”

  “Good,” Hunt said, aiming for the door.

  The Autumn King and the Prime of the wolves, the only City Heads present, remained in the pit, along with Sabine. Jesiba and Hypaxia would have to keep them honest. Neither of the females so much as acknowledged the other, but no animosity sparked between them, either. Hunt didn’t care.

  He silently scaled the stairs toward the roof, his companions behind him. They were thirty minutes by helicopter from the city. So much could go wrong before they reached it. And when they got there…it would be pure slaughter.

  The helicopter’s blades whipped Fury’s black hair as she crossed the landing pad. Flynn trailed close behind, sizing up their ride, and let out an impressed whistle.

  It wasn’t a luxury transport. It was a military-grade helicopter. Complete with two gunners on either door and a cache of assorted guns and weapons in duffels strapped to the floor.

  Fury Axtar had not come to this meeting expecting it to be friendly. She grabbed the headset from the departing pilot before slinging her slender body into the cockpit.