Seamus said into Ruhn’s mind, You’ll get what’s coming to you.
Ruhn kept his face impassive—princely, some might say. “Good to see you both.”
Again, his failure to snap back at them only riled them further, and both of his cousins growled before turning as one and striding from the archives.
Only when they’d vanished through the massive doors did Ruhn say quietly to Lidia, “You all right?”
“Yes,” she said, her golden eyes meeting his. Ruhn’s breath caught in his throat. “They’re no different from any other brute I’ve encountered.” Like Pollux. She turned back to the catalog. “They’d get along with Sandriel’s triarii.”
“I’ll remind you that a good chunk of that triarii has since proved to be on our side,” Ruhn said. But he could think of nothing else to say, and silence once more fell—inside his head and in the archives—so he began to search again.
After several long minutes, it became unbearable. The silence. The tension. And simply to say something, to break that misery, he blurted, “Why fire?”
She slowly turned toward him. “What?”
“You always appeared as a ball of fire to me. Why?”
She angled her head, eyes gleaming faintly. “Stars and night were already taken.” She smirked, and something eased in his chest at this bit of normalcy. Of what it had been like when they were just Day and Night. Despite himself, he found himself smiling back.
But she studied him. “How …”
He met her wide, searching stare. “How what?”
“How did you wind up like this?” she asked, voice soft. “Your father is …”
“A psychotic dickbag.”
She laughed. “Yes. How did you escape his influence?”
“My friends,” he said, nodding toward the door they’d exited through. “Flynn and Dec kept me sane. Gave me perspective. Well, maybe not Flynn, but Dec did. Still does.”
“Ah.”
He allowed himself the luxury of taking in her face, her expression. Noted the kernel of worry there and asked, “How did it go with your sons before we left yesterday?” He’d heard she’d gone to say goodbye, but nothing about the encounter. And given how haunted her face had looked when they’d left the Depth Charger …
“Great.” The word was terse enough that he thought she wouldn’t go on, but then she amended, “Terrible.” A muscle ticked in her jaw. “I think Brann would want to get to know me, but Ace—Actaeon … He loathes me.”
“It’ll take time.”
She changed the subject. “Do you think your sister will actually find something of use against the Asteri?”
Given how many people over the centuries had probably looked for such a thing, Ruhn didn’t resent her question. “Knowing Bryce, she’s up to something. She always has a few cards up her sleeve. But …” He blew out a breath. “Now that she’s in the fucking Cave of Princes, part of me doesn’t want to know what those cards might entail.”
“Your sister is a force of nature.” Nothing but admiration shone through the words.
Pride glimmered in his chest at the praise, but Ruhn merely said, “She is.” He let that be that.
But the silence that followed was different. Lighter. And he could have sworn he caught Lidia glancing toward him as often as he looked toward her.
Ithan strode down the halls of the House of Flame and Shadow, Hypaxia at his side, his stomach full and contented after a surprisingly good breakfast in its dim dining hall. They’d been early enough that most people hadn’t yet arrived.
He’d eaten an insane amount, even for him, but given that they were leaving for Avallen tomorrow, he’d wanted to fuel up as much as possible. He’d demanded that they go now, but Jesiba apparently had to arrange transportation and permission for them to enter the island, and since they weren’t telling anyone the truth about why they were going, she also had to weave a web of lies to whoever her contact on the Fae island was.
But soon he could right this awful wrong. They’d find Sofie’s body, get her lightning, and then fix this. It was a slim shard of hope, but one he clung to. One that kept him from crumbling into absolute ruin.
One he could only thank the female beside him for—the female who hadn’t thought twice before helping him so many times. It was for her sake that he made himself keep his tone light as he patted his rock-hard stomach and said, “Did you know they had such good food here?”
Hypaxia smirked. “Why do you think I defected so easily?”
“In it for the food, huh?”
Hypaxia grinned, and he knew the expression was rare for the solemn queen. “I’m always in it for the—”
A shudder rumbled through the black halls, clouds of dust drifting from the ceiling. Ithan kept his footing, wrapping a hand around Hypaxia’s elbow to steady her.
“What the Hel was that?” Ithan murmured, scanning the dark stone above them.
Another boom, and Ithan began running, Hypaxia hurrying behind him, aiming for Jesiba’s office. He was through the double doors a moment later, revealing Jesiba at her desk, her face taut, eyes wide—
“What the Hel is going on?” Ithan demanded, rushing over to where she had a feed up on her computer, showing exploding bombs.
Another impact hit, and Ithan motioned Hypaxia to get under the desk. But the former witch-queen did no such thing, instead asking, “Is that feed right above us?”
“No,” Jesiba said, her voice so hoarse she almost sounded like a Reaper. “Omega-boats pulled into the Istros.” On the feed, buildings crumbled. “Their deck launchers just fired brimstone missiles into Asphodel Meadows.”
53
Ithan and Hypaxia raced across the city, the blocks either full of panicking residents and tourists or deathly, eerie quiet. People sat on the sidewalks in stunned shock. Ithan steeled himself for what he’d find in the northeastern quarter, but it wasn’t enough to prepare him for the bloodied humans, ghostlike with all the dust and ash on them, streaming out of it. Children screamed in their arms. As he crossed into Asphodel Meadows, the cracked streets were filled with bodies, lying still and silent.
Further into the smoldering ruin, cars had been melted. Piles of rubble remained where buildings had stood. Bodies lay charred. Some of those bodies were unbearably small.
He drifted someplace far, far away from himself. Didn’t hear the screams or the sirens or the still-collapsing buildings. At his side, Hypaxia said nothing, her grave face streaked with silent tears.
Closer to the origin of the blasts, there was nothing. No bodies, no cars, no buildings.
There was nothing left in the heart of Asphodel Meadows beyond a giant crater, still smoldering.
The brimstone missiles had been so hot, so deadly, that they’d melted everything away. Anyone who’d taken a direct hit would have died instantly. Perhaps it had been a small mercy to be taken out that fast. To be wiped away before understanding the nightmare that was unfolding. To not be scared.
Ithan’s wolf instinct had him focusing. Had him snapping to attention as Hypaxia pulled a vial of firstlight healing potion from her bag and ran to the nearest humans beyond the blast radius—two young parents and a small child, covered head to toe in gray dust, huddling in the doorway of a partially collapsed building.
Hypaxia might have defected from being queen, but she was, first and foremost, a healer. And with his Aux and pack training, Ithan could make a difference, too. Even though he was a wolf without a pack, a disgraced exile and murderer. He could still help. Would still help, no matter what the world called him. No matter what unforgivable things he’d done.
So Ithan sprinted for the nearest human, a teenage girl in her school uniform. The fuckers had chosen to strike in the morning, when most people would be out in the streets on their way to work, kids on their way to school, all of them defenseless in the open air—
A snarl slipped out of him, and the girl, bleeding from her forehead, half-pinned under a chunk of cement, cringed away. She scrambled to push the cement block off her lower legs, and it was him—his presence that was terrifying her—
He shoved the wolf, the rage down. “Hey,” he said, kneeling beside her, reaching for the chunk of cement. “I’m here to help.”
The girl stopped her frantic shoving against the block, and lifted her bloodied eyes to him as he easily hauled it off her shins. Her left leg had been shredded down to the bone.
“Hypaxia!” he called to the witch, who was already rising to her feet.
But the girl grabbed Ithan’s hand, her face ghastly white as she asked him, “Why?”
Ithan shook his head, unable to find the words. Hypaxia threw herself to her knees before the girl, fishing another firstlight vial from her satchel. One of a scant few, Ithan saw with a jolt. They’d need so many more.
But even if all the medwitches of Crescent City showed up … would it be enough?
Would it ever be enough to heal what had been done here?
“You getting anything?” Hunt asked Tharion as they stood on the bank of a deep, wide river rushing through the cave system. Bryce, standing a few feet away, let the males talk as she studied the river, the mists blocking its origin and terminus; the carved walls continuing on the other side of the river; the musty, wet scent of this place.
Nothing so far that would tell her anything new about the blades, mist, or how to kick some Asteri ass, but she filed away everything she saw.
“No,” the mer said. Bryce was half listening to him. “My magic just senses that it’s … cold. And flows all through these caves.”
“I guess that’s good,” Baxian said, tucking in his wings. He winked at Bryce, drawing her attention. “No Wyrms swimming about.”
Bryce glowered. “You wouldn’t be joking if you’d seen one.” She didn’t give the Helhound time to reply before she said to him and Hunt, “Wings up to carry us?”
Her mind was racing too much for conversation as they awkwardly crossed the river, Hunt flying Sathia and Bryce together, Baxian carrying Tharion. Bryce extended her bubble of starlight so they could all remain within it, which was about as much extra activity as she could be bothered with while she took in the carvings.
They didn’t tell the story that Silene’s carvings had narrated—there was no mention of a slumbering evil beneath their feet. Just a river of starlight, into which the long-ago Fae had apparently dragged those pegasuses and drowned them.
Yeah, the Fae here had been no better than the ones in Nesta’s world.
They walked for hours and hours—miles and miles. There were occasional stops, alternating who took watch, but sleep was difficult.
The ghouls lurked in crevices and alcoves all around, scraps of malevolent shadow. They hissed with hunger for warm blood—and in abject fear of her starlight. Only someone with the Starborn gift—or someone under their protection—could survive here.
The Starsword pressed on her back; the dagger dug into her hip. They burdened each step, locked in some strange battle to be near each other that intensified as she got farther into the cave.
Bryce ignored them, and instead tracked the carvings on the walls. On the ceilings. Brutal images carved with care and precision: Merciless, unending battles and bloodshed. Cities in ruins. Lands crumbling away. All falling into that river of starlight, as if the Starborn power had swept it away in a tide of destruction.
“I have a question.” Sathia’s voice echoed through the tunnel. “It might be considered impertinent.”
Bryce snorted. “Didn’t you know? That’s the motto of Team Caves.”
Sathia increased her pace until she was at Bryce’s side. “Well, you don’t seem to want anything to do with the Fae.”
“Bingo,” Bryce said.
“Yet you’re here, bearing our two most sacred artifacts—”
“Three, if you count the Horn in my back.”
Sathia’s stunned silence seemed to bounce through the cave. “The … the Horn? How?”
“Fancy magic tattoo,” Bryce said, waving a hand. “But go on.”
Sathia’s throat worked. “You bear three of our most sacred artifacts. Yet you plan to … do what with the Fae?”
“Nothing,” Bryce said. “You’re right: I want nothing to do with them.” The carvings around them only strengthened that resolve. Especially the ones of the pegasus slaughter. She glanced sidelong at the female. “No offense.”
But Sathia said, “Why?”