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There was nothing to do but wait. Ithan didn’t feel like doing anything except sitting at the desk and looking at his hands.

His inept, bloodstained hands.

He’d tried to save Sigrid from the Astronomer, and had only succeeded in killing her. And then turning her corpse into a Reaper. Every choice he’d made had led them from bad to worse to catastrophic.

Jesiba breezed through the metal doors of the morgue exactly thirty minutes later. “Well, it took more bribes than I’d have liked, but I have good news and bad news,” she declared.

“Good first,” Ithan said, looking up from his hands at last. Hypaxia had sat in the other desk chair the entire time, silent and thoughtful.

“I know where Sofie’s body is,” Jesiba said.

“And the bad news?” Hypaxia asked quietly.

Jesiba glanced between them, gray eyes blazing. “It’s on Avallen. With the Stag King.”

50

Ruhn had no idea how Bryce managed to not kill Morven. He honestly had no idea how he didn’t, either.

But they wasted no time getting to work. Though Bryce was apparently on Team Caves, she insisted on checking out the archives first.

The Avallen Archives were as imposing and massive as Ruhn remembered from his last and only visit to Avallen. Granted, he’d never been allowed inside, but from its looming gray exterior, the building rivaled the Depth Charger in sheer size. A city of learning, locked behind the lead doors.

Only for the royal bloodlines—the royal males—to access.

“We really have to work?” Flynn groused, rubbing his head. “Can’t we relax for a bit? This place gives me the creeps—I need to decompress.”

Athalar gave Flynn a look. “It gives all of us the creeps.”

“No,” Flynn said gravely, shaking his head. “I told you—my magic hates this place.”

“What do you mean?” Bryce asked, peering at him over a shoulder.

Flynn shrugged. “The earth feels … rotted. Like there’s nothing for my magic to grab on to, or identify with. It’s weird. It bothered me the first time we were here, too.”

“He whined about it the entire time,” Declan agreed, earning an elbow in the ribs from Flynn.

But Flynn jerked his chin at Sathia, standing by herself a few feet away. “You sense it, too, right?”

His sister twisted her rosebud mouth to the side, then admitted, “My magic is also uneasy on Avallen. My brother’s claims are not totally without merit.”

“Well,” Bryce said, “buck up, Flynn. I think a big, tough Fae male like you can power through. We’ll decompress tonight. Tomorrow we split into Team Archives and Team Caves and work as fast as we can.”

She lifted a hand to one of the lead doors, but didn’t touch it yet. “Trust me, though, I don’t want to stay on this miserable island for a moment more than necessary.”

“Agreed,” Athalar muttered, stepping up beside Bryce. “Let’s find what we need and get the fuck out.”

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Sathia asked. “Everything you told me about the other Fae world and all you’ve learned … I’m sorry, but I need a bit more direction to go on when we get in there.”

Since we’re all known enemies of the Asteri, what’s another person who knows our shit? Bryce had asked when Flynn had demanded that Sathia stay behind.

And Sathia had refused to be left alone, even with the safety of her married status now granting her the right to move freely. I’m not going to be locked up in some room to rot, she’d said, and stomped after Bryce, who had begun explaining everything she’d learned about Theia and her daughters and the Fae history in and outside of Midgard. She hadn’t spoken a word to Tharion since they’d exchanged their vows—and the mer had seemed just fine about that, too.

It was all fucking nuts. But Ruhn had heard what Lidia had said to Bryce—about never having had anyone to fight for her. It hadn’t sat well.

Ruhn dared a look over at where Lidia stood, peering up at the towering entrance to the archives. He hadn’t failed to note Morven’s shock upon realizing she stood in his throne room. And as they’d departed, the Stag King had seemed poised to speak to Lidia, but the Hind had breezed past him before he could.