Bryce’s eyes flew open.
She’d fallen asleep. Somehow, she’d fallen asleep, so fucking exhausted from the last gods knew how many hours that she hadn’t even realized it, and—
The star on her chest was still glowing beneath her T-shirt. She remained in the tunnel.
But it was no longer empty.
Nesta stood over her, a sword strapped down her back. The female’s blue-gray eyes seemed to gleam with power in the starlight.
Bryce didn’t dare move.
Nesta tossed her a leather-wrapped canteen. “Do yourself a favor and drink before you pass out again.”
Bryce sipped from the canteen of what seemed to be—thankfully—water, and watched the other female over the rim of the bottle. Nesta sat against the opposite wall of the tunnel, monitoring Bryce with a feline curiosity.
They’d been silent in the minutes since Bryce had awoken. Nesta had barely moved, other than to take a seat.
At last, Bryce capped the canteen and tossed it back to Nesta. The female caught it with ease. “How’d you learn that I left the cell?” No need to reveal that she could teleport.
Nesta gave her a bored look—as if Bryce should have already known the answer. “We have people who can talk to shadows. They told us you went through the grate.”
Interesting—and creepy. But Bryce asked, “So you’re here to drag me back to the cell?”
Nesta shoved the canteen into her pack and rose, the movement sure and graceful. The sword strapped down her back … it wasn’t the Starsword, though Bryce could have sworn there was something similar about the blade. A kind of presence, a tug toward it.
The female inclined her head to the tunnel behind them—the way back. “I was sent to escort you.”
“Semantics.” Bryce got to her feet. Her versus this female … decent odds, but the sword presented a problem. As did whatever sort of presence thrummed from Nesta, apparently able to detect the Horn in Bryce’s back. Battling an opponent whose skills and powers were unknown, if not wholly alien, was probably unwise. “Look. I’m not here to start trouble—”
“Then don’t. Walk back with me.”
Bryce eyed the tunnel behind them. “How’d you even get past the beasts?”
A slight smile. “It pays to know people with wings.”
Bryce grunted, despite the ache in her chest. “So someone flew you to the gate—”
“And will fly us out.” A corner of her mouth kicked up. “Or haul you, if you decide to do this the hard way.”
Bryce scanned the path behind Nesta. Only deep shadows lingered. No sign of anyone with wings waiting to snatch her. “You might be bluffing.”
She could have sworn silver fire danced in Nesta’s eyes. “Do you want to find out?”
Bryce held her stare. Clearly, they didn’t want her dead, if they’d sent someone to retrieve her, not hunt her down. But if she returned to that cell, how long would they keep her there? Even hours could make a difference for Hunt and Ruhn—
“I’m always up for a day of discovery,” Bryce said.
Then she erupted with light.
Nesta cursed, but Bryce didn’t wait to see if the light had blinded her before bolting down the passage. Without any weapons, a running head start was her best chance of making it.
A force like a stone wall hit her from behind. The world tilted, her breath rushing from her as she collided with the stone ground, bones barking in pain. Shadows had wrapped around her, pinning her, and she thrashed, kicking and swatting at them.
She flared her light, a blast of incandescence that sent the shadows splintering in every direction.
She might not have enough magic left in her veins to teleport, but she could buy herself some time with this, at least. She scrambled to her feet, the shadows leaping upon her again, a pack of wolves set on devouring her.
She let them swarm her for just a moment before her magic exploded outward, a bomb of light in every direction. It sent those shadows flying into the ceiling, the walls. Where shadow met stone, debris tumbled from the ceiling. The mountain shook.
Bryce ran. Deeper into the tunnel, into the dark, her star flaring as she raced away from the crumbling rock all around—
The world shook and roared again, sending her sprawling amid a cloud of dust.
And then there was silence, interrupted only by the skittering rocks from the wall of stones now blocking the way back. But a cave-in wouldn’t stop Vanir or Fae for long. Bryce lunged upward—
Metal bit into her throat. Icy, deathly cold.
“Do not,” Nesta said quietly, panting, “move.”
Bryce glared up at the female but didn’t shove the blade from her throat. Her very bones roared at her not to touch the sword more than necessary. “Neat trick with the shadows.”
Nesta just stared imperiously at her. “Get up.”
“Put down your sword and I will.”
Their gazes clashed, but the sword moved a fraction. Bryce got to her feet, wiping dust and debris from her clothes. “What now?”
Her knees buckled with exhaustion. Her magic was spent, her veins utterly devoid of starlight.
Nesta glanced to the cave-in. Whatever shadow magic she possessed seemed to have little ability to move it. The warrior nodded to the tunnel ahead. “I suppose you’re getting your way.”
“I didn’t mean to cause that—”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s only one way out now. If there’s a way out at all.”
Bryce sighed, frowning at the star on her chest, still gleaming into the dark through her T-shirt. Illuminating all the dirt now smeared on the white cotton. “I didn’t intend to drag anyone else into this with me.”
“Then you should have stayed in the Hewn City.”
Bryce tucked away that kernel of knowledge—the place she’d been kept was called the Hewn City. “Look, this star …” She tapped her chest. “It’s pointing me this way. I have no idea why, but I have to follow it.”
Nesta gestured with her blade to the dark path ahead. Bryce could have sworn the sword sang through the air. “So lead on.”
“You won’t stop me?”
Nesta sheathed the sword down her back with enviable grace. “We’re trapped down here. We might as well see what lies ahead.”
It was a better reaction than Bryce could have hoped for. Especially from the Fae.
With a shrug, Bryce walked into the dark, one eye on the female at her side. And prayed Urd knew where she was leading them.
7
Lidia carried the crystal bubble containing the Queen of the Fire Sprites through the dim halls, Irithys’s flame splashing gold upon the marble floors and walls.
She said nothing to the sprite—not with all the cameras mounted throughout the Asteri’s palace. Irithys didn’t seem to care. She rested on the bottom of the orb with her legs folded serenely. After several long minutes, though, the sprite said, “The dungeons aren’t this way.”
“And you’re so familiar with the layout of this place?”
“I have a keen memory,” the queen said flatly, her long hair floating above her head in a twirl of yellow flame. “I need only see something once to remember it. I recall the entire walk down here to the mystics in perfect detail.”
A helpful gift. But Lidia said, “We’re not going to the dungeons.”
From the corner of her eye, she noted Irithys peering at her. “But you told Rigelus—”
“It has been a long while since you left your bubble … and used your powers.” Whatever embers were left with the halo’s constraints. “I think it wise that we warm you up a bit before the main event.”
“What do you mean?” the queen demanded, flame shifting to a wary orange, but Lidia said nothing as she unlocked an unmarked iron door on a quiet lower level. Lidia offered up silent thanks to Luna that her hands didn’t shake as she reached for the handle, the gold-and-ruby ring on her finger shimmering in Irithys’s light.
Between one breath and the next, Lidia buried that part of her that begged to distant gods, the part that doubted. She became still and flat, expression as undisturbed as the surface of a forgotten forest pool.
The door creaked open to reveal a table, a chair in front of it, and on the other side of the table, chained with gorsian shackles, an imperial hag.
The hag lifted baleful, yellow-tinged eyes to Lidia as the Hind shut the door behind her. Those eyes lowered to the bubble, the Sprite Queen glowing orange inside it.
Lidia slid into the chair across from the prisoner, setting the sprite’s crystal on the table between them as if it were no more than a handbag. “Thank you for meeting me, Hilde.”
“I had no choice in the matter,” the hag rasped, her thinning white hair glimmering like strands of wispy moonlight. A wretched, twisted creature, but one of hidden beauty. “Ever since your dogs arrested me on trumped-up charges—”
“You were found in possession of a comm-crystal known to be used by Ophion rebels.”
“I never saw that crystal in all my life,” Hilde snapped, shards of brown teeth glinting. “Someone framed me.”
“Yes, yes,” Lidia said, waving a hand. Irithys watched every movement, still that alert shade of orange. “You can plead your case before Rigelus.”
The imperial hag had the good sense to look nervous. “Then why are you here?”
Lidia smirked at Irithys. “To warm you up.”
The Sprite Queen caught her meaning, and simmered into a deep, threatening red.
But the hag let out a hacking laugh. She still wore her imperial uniform, the crest of the Republic frayed over her sagging breasts. “I’ve got nothing to tell you, Lidia.”
Lidia crossed one leg over the other. “We’ll see.”
Hilde hissed, “You think yourself so mighty, so untouchable.”
“Is this the part where you tell me you’ll have your revenge?”
“I knew your mother, girl,” the hag snapped.
Lidia had enough training and self-control to keep her face blank, tone utterly bored. “My mother was a witch-queen. Plenty of people knew her.”
“Ah, but I knew her—flew in her unit in our fighting days.”
Lidia angled her head. “Before or after you sold your soul to Flame and Shadow?”
“I swore allegiance to Flame and Shadow because of your mother. Because she was weak and spineless and had no taste for punishment.”
“I suppose my mother and I differ on that front, then.”
Hilde swept her rheumy gaze over Lidia. “Better than that disgrace of a sister who now calls herself queen.”
“Hypaxia is half Flame and Shadow—she should have your allegiance on both fronts.”
Lidia knew Irithys monitored each word. If she could remember things after seeing them only once, did it also apply to what she heard?
“Your mother was a fool to give you away,” Hilde grumbled.
Lidia arched a brow. “Is that a compliment?”
“Take it as you will.” The hag flashed her rotting teeth in a nightmare of a smile. “You’re a born killer—like any true witch. That girl on the throne is as softhearted as your mother. She’ll bring down the entire Valbaran witch-dynasty.”
“Alas, my father was a smart negotiator,” Lidia said, making a good show of admiring the ruby ring on her finger, the stone as red as Irithys’s flame. “But enough about me.” She gestured to the hag, then to the sprite. “Irithys, Queen of the Sprites. Hilde, Grand Hag of the Imperial Coven.”
“I know who you are,” Irithys said, her voice quiet with leashed rage. She now floated in the center of the orb, her body bloodred. “You put this collar on me.”
Hilde again smiled, wide enough to reveal her blackened gums. A lesser person would have cowered at that smile. “I had the honor of doing it to the little bitch who bore the crown before you, too.”
Hilde didn’t mean Irithys’s mother, who had never been queen at all. No, when the last Sprite Queen had died, the line had passed to a different branch of the family, with Irithys first to inherit.
A damned inheritance—she’d gained the title and a prison sentence in the same breath. Irithys had barely had her crown for a day before Rigelus had her brought into the dungeons.
Lidia said blandly, “Yes, Hilde. We all know how skilled you are. Athalar himself can thank you for his first halo. But let’s talk about why you chose to betray us.”
“I did no such thing.”Even with the gorsian shackles, a crackling sort of energy leaked from the hag.
Lidia sighed at the ceiling. “I do have appointments today, Hilde. Shall we speed this up?”
She gave no warning before tapping the top of Irithys’s crystal. It melted away to nothing, leaving only air between the hag and the Sprite Queen.