Rigelus neared the dimly glowing center of the hall. There, in a crystal bubble the size of a cantaloupe, a female made of pure flame slumbered.

  Her long hair lay draped around her in golden waves and curls of fire, her lean, graceful limbs nude. The Sprite Queen was perhaps no bigger than Lidia’s hand, yet even in repose, she had a presence. Like she was the small sun around which this place orbited.

  It was close to the truth, Lidia supposed.

  The mistress hobbled to the warded and bespelled orb and rapped on it with her knobbly knuckles. “Get up. Your master’s here to see you.”

  Irithys opened eyes like glowing coals. Even crafted of flame, she seemed to simmer with hate. Especially as her gaze landed on Rigelus.

  The Bright Hand inclined his head mockingly. “Your Majesty.”

  Slowly, with dancer-like grace, Irithys sat up. Her eyes slid from Rigelus to her mistress to Lidia. Nothing but calculation and resentment shone on her face—an uncommonly plain face, considering the usual beauty of her kind.

  Rigelus gestured to Lidia, the golden rings on his long fingers sparkling in Irithys’s light. “My Hind has a request of you.”

  My Hind. Lidia ignored the possession in the words. The way they raked down her very soul.

  She stepped closer to the bubble, hands once again clasped behind her back. “I have three prisoners in the dungeon who will find your sort of fire particularly motivating. I require you to come to the dungeons, to help me convince them to talk.”

  The Mistress of the Mystics whipped her head to Lidia. “You can’t mean for her to leave here—”

  Not sparing the crone a look, Lidia said, “Surely, as mistress of this place, you can find it in yourself to protect your wards for a few hours.”

  Beneath the thin veil, she could have sworn the mistress’s eyes sparked with hostility. “Irithys is here because of the need for her specific kind of protection. Because of her light, a beacon against the darkness of Hel—”

  Lidia only leveled a bored look at Rigelus.

  He smirked, always amused by the cruelty of others, and said to the mistress, “Should Hel come knocking, send word and I will assist you personally.” A huge honor—and an indication of how badly he needed Athalar broken. Ruhn and Baxian, she wasn’t entirely sure about, but Athalar …

  The mistress bowed her head. Leaving Irithys now staring at Lidia.

  Lidia lifted her chin. “Will you be amenable to assisting me?”

  Irithys glanced down at herself, as if she could see the small band of tattoos around her throat. A halo of sorts—inked on the Sprite Queen by an imperial hag to keep her power in check.

  The queen’s gesture was a silent question.

  Rigelus said, “The ink remains. You can wield enough of your powers to prove useful.”

  Lidia kept quiet. Let Irithys study her.

  She’d been kept down here more than a century. Had not seen daylight or left that crystal bubble in all that time. There was a good chance that behind the glimmering eyes, the queen had gone mad.

  But Lidia didn’t need her sanity. She could do the thinking for the two of them.

  Irithys’s chin dipped slightly.

  Rigelus turned to Lidia. “You have a week with her.”

  Lidia held the sprite’s blazing stare, let her see the cold fire within her own soul. “Breaking Athalar won’t take that long.”

  * * *

  Bryce left what she assumed was dinner—roast chicken, more bread, and some herbed potatoes—uneaten on the tray. No one had come by in the hours that had passed, so she assumed they’d either check in with her tomorrow, or perhaps wait until she was banging on that wall of night and howling for someone to come talk to her.

  Neither of which seemed like an appealing option.

  That left two choices, really. See if she could break through the magical barrier, then make her way out of this mountain and into a strange new world with no idea where she was going, or …

  She glanced down. Or she could see what lay at the bottom of the grate, if there was some opening beyond the beasts that might take her out of this place … and into a strange new world with no idea where she was going.

  Hours, and that was the best she could come up with.

  “Pathetic,” she muttered, zipping the Archesian amulet along its chain. “Fucking pathetic.”

  What was happening to Hunt? To Ruhn? Were they even—

  She wouldn’t let herself think about it.

  Her captors had taken her phone before bringing her here, so she had no idea what time it was. Or at least what time it was on Midgard. She didn’t even want to wade into the tangle of how time might pass faster or slower on this world. And how long had actually passed since that run down the hallway in the Eternal Palace—

  Bryce stood from her crouched position against the wall. Stalked to the grate in the center of the room. A chorus of hissing rose from it as she approached.

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” she murmured, kneeling and prying the grate out of the floor, her fingers straining painfully with the effort. But inch by inch, it pulled away, scraping too loudly against the stone floor.

  She waited a moment, listening for the sounds of her approaching captors. When no one came to investigate the noise, Bryce peered into the yawning dark pit she’d opened.

  She lowered her head a little toward the hole. The hissing stopped.

  Bryce willed starlight to her hand and held it up. Nothing but emptiness waited below. Bryce fisted her palm, balling the starlight into an orb, and dropped it down—

  A writhing sea of black, scaled bodies silvered by her light appeared.

  Bryce scrambled back.

  Sobeks—or their dark twins. Tharion had faced them when they’d escaped the Bone Quarter, concentrating his water magic into lethal spears that pierced their thick hides, but …“Fuck,” she breathed.

  She glanced over a shoulder to the door. To the shield that echoed there with a sense of Rhysand. Power the likes of which she’d never encountered—at least, other than from the Asteri.

  If he had as much power as an Asteri … It was all a hunch, really, but if he could be manipulated into helping her, somehow coming back to Midgard with her and kicking ass—

  She might very well replace six conquerors for another. And something had to change, the cycle had to stop now, but not if it began anew with another overlord. And if Rhysand did indeed have that much power, she doubted these interrogations would continue so peaceably for much longer. Especially now that they knew she had something of importance tattooed on her back. Whatever Made meant, it held considerable weight with them. She had little doubt their patience would soon wear thin.

  And whether it’d manifest in Rhysand going against his oh-so-polite insistence on her consent to be mentally probed or in Azriel carving her up with that black knife … she didn’t want to be around to find out.

  Bryce peered at the hole, the beasts below.

  That kernel of magic that had altered the language in her brain and set the Horn glowing had left something in her chest. Just enough fuel.

  She’d have a nanosecond to teleport—winnow, as they called it here—down to the beasts. To that sliver of rock she’d noted jutting above them, little wider than her foot. Then she’d have to see if there was any way out. Some tunnel through which they moved beneath this place.

  Unless it was only a pit, a veritable cage where they sat in darkness and waited for meat—dead or alive—to be thrown to them.

  It would be a true leap of faith.

  Her hands shook, but she balled them into fists. She’d outrun an Asteri. Granted, that was with Hunt’s lightning, but …

  Every minute here counted. Every minute left Hunt and Ruhn in Rigelus’s hands. If they were even still alive.

  “Hunt. Ruhn. Mom. Dad. Fury. June. Syrinx.” She whispered their names, fighting the tightness in her throat.

  She had to get out of here. Before these people decided the risk she posed was too great, and dealt with her the smart way. Or before they decided they liked the sound of Midgard, of Rigelus, and knew she’d be a wonderful peace offering—

  “Get the fuck up,” she grunted. “Get the fuck up and do something.”

  Hunt would tell her she was out of her mind. Ruhn would tell her to try to spin some more bullshit, try to win her captors over. But Danika …

  Danika would have jumped.

  Danika had jumped—down into the depths of the Drop with Bryce. Knowing there’d be no return trip for her.

  Danika, whose death Rigelus had engineered, manipulating Micah into killing her.

  A white haze blurred Bryce’s vision. Primal wrath pumped through her, the sort only the Fae could descend into. It sharpened her vision. Tautened her muscles. The star on her chest flared with soft light.

  “Fuck this,” she growled.

  And teleported into the pit.

  * * *

  Tharion supposed he was still high, still hallucinating, when Ithan Holstrom, Declan Emmet, Tristan Flynn, Marc Rosarin, and an unfamiliar female wolf—carrying three very familiar sprites—walked into the suite. They were escorted by the Viper Queen and six of her drugged-out Fae bodyguards.

  Lying on the couch in front of the TV, so chill it was as if his very bones had melted into the cushions, Tharion could barely lift his head as the group filed in. He gave them a lazy, blissed-out smile. “Hi, friends.”

  Declan blew out a breath. “Burning fucking Solas, Tharion.”

  Tharion’s face heated. He had a good idea how he looked. But he couldn’t convince his body to move. His head was too heavy, limbs too limp. He closed his eyes, sinking back into that sweet heaviness.

  “What the fuck is happening here?” Flynn growled. “Did you do that to him?”

  Tharion only realized that Ari had entered the living space when she hissed at Flynn, “Me? You think I go around drugging helpless people?”

  “You go around abandoning them,” Flynn countered. “Or was that reserved for Bryce and Hypaxia?”

  “Go back to your partying, pretty boy,” Ari spat.

  “I’ll leave you all to catch up,” the Viper Queen crooned, and stalked out, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

  Tharion managed to open his eyes. “Why are you guys here?” Ogenas, his mouth felt so far away.

  Declan paced a few steps. “Bryce, Athalar, and Ruhn didn’t make it out of the Eternal Palace.”

  Was it the news or the venom that made his entire world spin? “Dead?” The word was like ash on his tongue.

  “No,” Declan said. “As far as we know. Bryce disappeared, and Ruhn and Hunt are now being held in the Asteri’s dungeons.”

  Tharion just stared at the Fae warrior—Declan’s form blurring at the edges—and let the news sink in.

  “Dude, your pupils are huge,” Flynn said. No wonder his vision was so foggy. “What are you on?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Her venom,” Ari snapped. “That’s what he’s on.”

  “You look terrible,” Declan said, stepping closer to peer down at Tharion. “Your shoulder—”

  “Minotaur,” Tharion grunted. “It’s healing. And I don’t want to talk about it. Where did Bryce go?”

  “We don’t know,” Declan said.

  “Fuck.” Tharion said the word on a long exhale. It echoed in every bone and blood vessel. Before he could ask more, he noticed Ari sizing up the group, her gaze landing on the female wolf beside Holstrom. “I know you.”

  The female wolf’s chin lifted. “Likewise, dragon.”

  Tharion must have made a confused face, because Holstrom said, “This is Sigrid … Fendyr.”

  Yeah, he was hallucinating. There was only one Fendyr other than the Prime: Sabine. And he was pretty sure she didn’t have any secret daughters.

  “We’ll get to the particulars later,” Declan said, and slumped into the nearest chair. His boyfriend stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “We have to sort through this clusterfuck.”

  Flynn swore. “What is there to sort through? We killed Sabine.”

  Tharion jolted—or tried to. His body wouldn’t move.

  “You killed Sabine,” Declan said. “I shot her in the leg.”

  “She’s not dead-dead,” Flynn said.

  “She doesn’t have a face,” Dec countered. “That’s pretty—”

  “What happened to the other wolves?” Holstrom asked none of them in particular.

  Oh, wait—he was asking Tharion and Ari. Ari gave Holstrom a blank look. “What wolves?”

  “We were being chased by the Black Rose Pack,” Ithan explained, “and then … we weren’t. Where did the Viper Queen take them?”

  “Start looking in the river,” Tharion mumbled.

  “She wouldn’t have killed them,” Marc said. “It’d be a headache, even for her. Her goons must have knocked them out and moved them elsewhere.”

  “What about Sabine?” Holstrom asked.

  Gods, Tharion’s head was throbbing. This had to be some weird dream.

  “The Viper Queen will twist this to her own advantage somehow,” Marc said. “She’ll either present herself as Sabine’s rescuer or hand us over.”

  Tharion lifted his brows at Marc.

  Marc caught the look and explained, “I’ve had a few clients get into trouble with the Viper Queen over the years. I learned a thing or two about her tactics.”

  Tharion nodded, as if this was perfectly fucking normal, and closed his eyes again.

  “Pathetic,” Ari hissed—probably at him. But then she asked the others, “So you’re all the Viper Queen’s captives?”

  “Not sure,” Declan said. “She caught us in the act of, uh … downing Sabine. When she told us to follow, it seemed like an order.”

  “But she said nothing else?” Ari asked. Tharion cracked an eye, fighting to stay present.

  “Just that we can crash here tonight,” Flynn said, plopping on the couch beside Tharion and grabbing the remote. He flipped to some sports highlights.

  “We should make a run for Tiberian or for the river,” Declan said.

  “You’re not getting out if the Viper Queen doesn’t want you to,” Tharion rasped.

  “So we’re trapped?” Sigrid’s voice hitched with something like panic.

  “No,” Holstrom said. “But we need to think through our steps carefully. It’s a question of strategy.”

  “Lead on, oh great sunball captain,” Flynn intoned with mock solemnity.

  Ithan rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so normal, so friendly, that something in Tharion’s chest tightened. He’d thrown all this away, any shot at a normal life. And now his friends were here … seeing him like this.

  Tharion closed his eyes once more, this time because he couldn’t stand the sight of his friends. Couldn’t stand the worry and pity in Holstrom’s eyes as the wolf took in his sorry state.

  Captain Whatever. More like Captain Worthless.

  * * *

  The beasts were much larger, much fouler-smelling up close. Bryce’s magic sputtered as they turned her way. She teetered on the rock ledge before steadying herself.

  One leap upward, and they’d devour her. Her star illuminated only the closest ones, all hissing mouths, writhing bodies, slashing tails—

  She rallied her power, but … nothing. Just glittering stardust in her veins. Only enough to keep that star glowing on her chest. No teleporting, then. Could these creatures see enough to be blinded? They dwelled in the darkness. Could they have evolved past the need for sight?

  The thoughts raced and crashed through her. The grate was thirty feet up—no way to go back now. And the floor of the pit was covered with these things, all smelling her, assessing her.

  But not … advancing. Like something about her gave them pause.

  Made. Maybe it also meant something to these creatures.

  Bryce tugged the neckline of her T-shirt down, revealing the star in all its glory. The beasts shrank back, hissing, tossing massive, scaled heads. Their teeth glinted in the starlight.

  A tunnel stretched on either side of the pit. She could only make out the cavernous mouths, but it seemed like this pit sat in the middle of a passage. To where, though? This was the stupidest thing she’d ever done. In a life full of stupid ideas and mistakes, that was saying something, but …

  Bryce turned toward one of the tunnels, trying to better see what lay beyond. The star in her chest dimmed. Like her magic was rapidly fading. She whirled toward the other tunnel, trying to see what she could before the magic vanished—

  The star flared brightly again.

  “Huh,” she murmured. Bryce turned back the other way. The star faded. To the opposite side: it brightened.

  Rigelus had said the star reacted to people—those loyal to her, her chosen knights or whatever. He’d also said that Theia herself had borne this star on her chest. And in this world, this home planet of Theia and the Starborn …

  Bryce had no choice but to trust that star.

  “That way, then,” she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. But she still had to get over the gulf of those beasts between her and the next rocky outcropping in the tunnel wall.

  She’d never before wished for wings, but fuck if they wouldn’t have been handy right then. If Hunt had been here with her—

  Her throat closed up. The beasts hissed, tails lashing. As if they could sense her shift in attention.

  Bryce focused on her breathing, as she’d learned to do in the wake of losing Danika, as she’d learned to do in the face of all those Vanir and Fae who’d sneered at her. The star kept glowing, pointing the way. The creatures settled, as if her emotions were theirs.

  She willed herself to calm. To feel no fear. The creatures settled further. Some laid their heads down.

  She glanced at the star in her chest. Still glowing brightly. They are your champions, too, it seemed to say. The star hadn’t been wrong about Hunt. Or Cormac.

  So Bryce stuck one foot over the ledge. The beasts didn’t move. She let her foot drop a little lower, dangling bait—

  Nothing.

  Her heartbeat ratcheted up, and a massive head rose, pivoting her way—