“You’re precisely where you should be,” Bryce insisted. “When people hear that Fury Axtar’s guarding Avallen, they’ll think twice before fucking with this place.”
Fury rolled her eyes. “Babysitting.”
Bryce shook her head. “It’s not. I need you guys here—helping any of the people who can make it. Helping Baxian.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Fury said, jerking her chin toward the rest of their friends, standing on the other side of the helicopter. “I’ll admit, I’m looking forward to grilling Baxian about him and Danika.”
They stared toward the handsome male, who must have sensed their attention and turned from where he’d been talking to Tharion and Ruhn. Baxian winced.
Juniper laughed. “We won’t bite!” she called to the Helhound.
“Liar,” Fury muttered, earning another laugh from Juniper.
Baxian wisely went back to his conversation. Though Bryce didn’t fail to notice how Tharion poked the angel shifter in the side, grinning.
“I can’t believe she never told us about him,” Juniper said quietly, sadly.
“Danika didn’t tell us a lot of stuff,” Bryce said with equal softness.
“Neither did you,” Fury teased, nudging Bryce with an elbow. “And again: Queen of Avallen?”
Bryce rolled her eyes. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”
“Oh, not for all the gold in the world,” Fury said, dark eyes dancing with amusement. “This is your shitshow to run.”
Juniper scowled at her girlfriend. “What Fury means is that we have your back.”
Bryce kissed June’s velvet-soft cheek. “Thanks.” She looked between her friends again. “If we don’t make it back …”
“Don’t think like that, B,” Juniper insisted, but Fury said nothing.
Fury had dealt in the shadows of the empire for years. She was well aware of the odds.
Bryce went on, “If I don’t make it back, you’ll be safe here. The mists will allow any true refugee through—but I’d still keep an eye out for any Asteri agents. There are plenty of natural resources to sustain everyone, and yeah, there’s no firstlight to fuel your tech, but—”
Juniper laid a hand on Bryce’s wrist again. “We got this, B. You go do … what you need to do.”
“Save the world,” Fury said, chuckling.
Bryce grimaced. “Yeah. Basically.”
“We got this,” Juniper repeated, hand tightening on Bryce’s wrist. “And so do you, Bryce.”
Bryce took out her phone. Popped it free of the case, revealing the photograph she’d tucked in there of them. Of how it had been when there were four. “Keep this for me,” she said, handing it to Fury. “I don’t want to lose it.”
Fury studied the photo—how happy they’d all been, how seemingly young. She folded Bryce’s fingers around the photo. “Take it.” Fury’s eyes shone bright. “So we’ll all be with you.”
Bryce’s throat tightened again, but she slid the photo into the back pocket of her jeans. And allowed herself to look at June and Fury one last time, to memorize every line of their faces.
Friends worth fighting for. Worth dying for.
Ember Quinlan was waiting on the hill where Bryce and her friends had risen from beneath the Cave of Princes.
Ember peered at the grassy ground, face tight. No trace of the caves remained. “So his body is just … under there.”
Bryce nodded. She knew who her mother meant. “Ruhn decapitated him and, um, impaled his head before the ground swallowed him. There’s no chance of him coming back.”
Ember didn’t smile as she stared at the earth, the Autumn King’s corpse far beneath it.
“I spent so long running from him, fearing him. To imagine a world where he doesn’t exist …” Her mom lifted her eyes to Bryce’s face, and at the pain and relief in them, Bryce threw her arms around her and held tight.
“I’m so proud of you,” Ember whispered. “Not for … dealing with him, but for all of it. I’m so, so proud, Bryce.”
Bryce couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes. “I could only do it because I was raised by a badass mom.”
Ember chuckled, pulling back to clasp Bryce’s face in both hands. “You look different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Good. Like a functioning adult.”
Bryce smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
Ember wrapped her arms around Bryce and squeezed. “But it doesn’t matter if you’re Queen of the Fae or the Universe or whatever crap …” Bryce laughed at that, but Ember said, “You’ll always be my sweet baby.”
Bryce hugged her mother tightly, all thoughts of the hateful male lying dead far below them fading away.
In the distance, the helicopter started roaring again, this time piloted by Randall, thanks to his compulsory years in the peregrini army. All humans were forced to serve. The skills he’d learned during those years remained useful, especially now, but Bryce knew the experience weighed on his soul.
Bryce looked up at last from her mother’s embrace and saw Hunt motioning for them to get on board—obnoxiously tapping his wrist, as if to say, Time is of the essence, Quinlan!
Bryce scowled, knowing that with his angel-sharp eyes he could see it from this distance, but she held her mom for another moment. Breathed in her mom’s smell, so familiar and calming. Like home.
Ember hugged her back, content to be there—to hold her daughter for one moment longer.
This was what really mattered in the end.
70
Ithan was thoroughly sick of playing bodyguard, even from a floor below. While Hypaxia had been comparing what she’d observed in the Reaper to the water samples and Ithan’s own blood, he’d been packing up artifacts in Jesiba’s office. And glancing at the door every other minute as if Hypaxia would burst in and declare that she’d developed an antidote to the parasite. She never did.
When he entered the morgue, he found Hypaxia at the desk, head in her hands. Vials of all sizes and shapes littered the metal surface beside her.
Ithan dared to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t give up. You’re exhausted—you’ve been working for hours. You’ll find a cure.”
“I already found it.”
It took him a moment to process what she’d said. “You … Really?”
Her head bobbed, and she nudged a vial of clear liquid with a fingertip. “It went faster than I had even dared to hope. I was able to use the synth antidote as a template. Synth and the parasite have magic-altering properties in common—I’ll spare you the details. With the changes I made, though, I think this will isolate the parasite and kill it the same way the synth antidote worked.” She pointed at more small vials on a low table behind her. “I made as much as I could. But …”
“But?” He could barely breathe.
She sighed. “But it’s far from perfect. I had to use Athalar’s lightning to bind it together. I had to use all of it, I’m afraid.”
She motioned to her desk, where six quartz crystals now lay. Dormant. Empty.
His heart twisted. “It’s okay.” Sigrid would remain a Reaper for the time being, but he wouldn’t give up on trying to help her.
“Athalar’s lightning holds it together, but not permanently,” Hypaxia went on. “The antidote is highly unstable—a little jostling, and it might go completely stale. If I had more time, I might find a way to stabilize it, but for right now …”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Just tell me.”
Her mouth twisted to the side before she said, “The antidote’s not a permanent fix. Its effect will wear off—and since the water of Midgard is still contaminated with the parasite, we will be reinfected as soon as it does.”
“How long will a dose work?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks? Months? Longer than a few days, I think, but I’ll need to keep refining it. Find some way to make it permanent.”
“But it’ll work for now?”
“In theory. So long as Athalar’s lightning binds it together. But I haven’t gathered the nerve to test it on myself. To see if it works and is safe, but also … to find out who I might be without this thing feeding on me.” She raised her head and met his stare, her face bleak and exhausted. “If we remove this parasite, what will it accomplish? What will you do with the extra power?”
“I’ll help my friends, for whatever good it’ll do.”
“And the wolves?”
“What about them?”
“If you get more power, it could put you beyond Sabine’s abilities. Make you strong enough that you could challenge her.” She looked at him seriously. “You might be able to end Sabine’s tyranny, Ithan.”
“I …” He couldn’t find the right words. “I didn’t really think about what we’d do next.”
She wasn’t impressed. “You need to. All of us do.”
He stiffened. “I’m not a planner. I’m a sunball player, for fuck’s sake—”
“You were a sunball player,” she said. “And I suspect you haven’t thought about the implications of having the most power among the wolves because you’re avoiding thinking about what you really want.”
He glared at her. “And what is that?”
“You want Sabine gone. No one but you is going to come along and do it.”
He felt sick. “I don’t want to lead anyone.”
She gave him a look, as if seeing through him. But she said, with a disappointment that cut right to his heart, “All this arguing’s of no use. We don’t even know if the antidote works.” She eyed the vial.
She would do it, he knew. She’d try it, risk herself—
Ithan didn’t broadcast his moves before he snatched up the vial. Before he lifted it to his mouth and swallowed.
Hypaxia whirled toward him, eyes wide with apprehension—
Then there was only black.
There was his body … and more than his body.
His wolf, and him, and power, like he could leap between entire continents in one bound—
Ithan’s eyes flew open. Had the world always been so sharp, so clear? Had the morgue smelled so strongly of antiseptic? Was there a body rotting away in one of the boxes? When had that arrived? Or had it been lying there all along?
And that smell, of lavender and eucalyptus …
Hypaxia was kneeling over him, breathing hard. “Ithan—”
A blink, and a flash, and he shifted. She staggered back at the wolf that appeared, faster than he’d ever changed before.
Another blink and flash, and he was back in his humanoid body.
As easy as breathing. Fast as the wind. Something was different, something was …