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Ruhn glanced at Lidia, still searching the catalog. Fuck, her mind was unguarded—

It was second nature, really, to leap for her mind. As if he could somehow shield her from them.

But on the other end of that mental bridge, a wall of fire smoldered. It wasn’t just fire—it was a conflagration that swirled sky-high, as if generating its own winds and weather. Magma seemed to churn beneath it, visible through cracks in the whirling storm of flame.

Well, he didn’t need to worry about her, then.

You spoil our fun, cousin, Seamus said.

She’d be fun to rummage through, Duncan added.

Ruhn eyed the males. Get lost.

Her presence defiles this place, Seamus said, attention sliding to Lidia and fixing on her shoulder blades with an intensity Ruhn didn’t like one fucking bit.

So does yours, Ruhn shot back.

Seamus’s dark eyes shifted toward Ruhn once more. We can smell you on her, you know. Seamus’s teeth flashed. Tell me: Was it like fucking a Reaper?

A low growl slipped out of Ruhn, and Lidia turned at the sound. She showed no surprise. As if she’d been aware of their presence this whole time, and had been waiting for some sort of signal to interfere.

She looked coolly between his cousins. “Seamus. Duncan. I’ll thank you to stay out of my mind.”

Seamus bristled, pure Fae menace. “Did we talk to you, bitch?”

Ruhn clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, but Lidia lifted those golden eyes to the twin princes and said, “Shall I demonstrate how I make males like you talk to me?”

Duncan snarled. “You’re lucky our uncle gave the word to stand down. Or else we’d have already told the Asteri you’re here, Hind.”

“Good dogs,” Lidia said. “I’ll be sure to advise Morven to give you both a treat.”

Ruhn’s lips twitched upward. But—she’d told him to act like the prince he was. So he schooled his face into icy neutrality. A mask as hard as Lidia’s. “Tell Morven we’ll send word if we require his assistance,” he said to his cousins.

The dismissal found its mark better than any taunt. Duncan pushed off the bookshelf, hand curling at his side—shadows wrapping around his knuckles. Darker, wilder than Ruhn’s. As if they’d been captured from a storm-tossed night.

“You’re an embarrassment to our people,” Duncan said. “A disgrace.”

Seamus stalked over to his twin, his identical face displaying matching disdain. “Don’t waste your breath on him.”

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.