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The silver flame now flickered in Nesta’s eyes. “Then say it, and be gone.” Her gaze lowered to Bryce’s side. “And leave the dagger you stole.”

Bryce ignored that and swallowed hard.

Ember hissed to Randall, “I don’t think it’s going well.” Randall hushed her.

But Nesta’s eyes slid to Hunt—to the feathered wings, the lightning dancing at his hand, the halo on his brow. “Is that your mate?”

Bryce nodded, and motioned Hunt to step forward. “Hunt Athalar.” She’d never fucking use Danaan again. For either of them.

Hunt approached and inclined his head. Bryce could have sworn lightning lashed across his eyes, as if the power he’d summoned, enough to open the Northern Rift, was riding him hard.

But Nesta only observed him imperiously, then turned to Bryce. “What do you want?”

Bryce squared her shoulders. “I need you to give me the Mask.”

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“Is that a request or a threat?” Nesta asked quietly, and even with a portal between them, the ground seemed to shudder at the female’s power.

“It’s a plea. A desperate fucking plea,” Bryce said, and exposed her palms to the female in supplication. “I need it to give me an edge against the Asteri. To destroy them.”

“No.” Nesta’s eyes held no mercy. “Now shut the portal and be gone.” She glanced over a shoulder, where the stars seemed to be winking out in the far distance. “Before the High Lord gets here and rips you to shreds.”

“What is that?” Hunt murmured, marking the darkness sweeping in.

“Rhysand,” Bryce murmured back, then said to Nesta, “Please. I don’t need the Mask forever. Just … until it’s done. Then I’ll return it.”

Nesta laughed, pure ice. “You expect me to trust a female who tried to deceive and outsmart us at every turn?”

“I did outsmart you,” Bryce said coolly, and Nesta’s eyes sparked at the challenge. “But that’s neither here nor there. Look, I get it—the Mask is insanely powerful and dangerous. I wouldn’t trust someone who asked me to use the Horn, either. But my world needs this.”

Nesta said nothing.

The darkness crept closer. Fury leaked from it, along with a primal rage. Bryce took a step forward, and Nesta’s dagger angled upward.

“Please,” Bryce said again. “I promise I’ll return the Mask—and Truth-Teller. After I’ve done what I need to do here.”

“You must think me a fool if you believe I’d hand over one of the deadliest weapons in my world. Especially when the monsters in your world have wanted to get their hands on it and the rest of the Dread Trove for millennia. Not to mention that few people can use the Mask and live. You put it on, and you might very well die.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Bryce said calmly.

“And I’m supposed to trust that you, after all you did here, are going to return the Mask out of the goodness of your heart?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes.”

Nesta laughed joylessly, glancing at the approaching darkness. “All I have to do is wait until he gets here, you know. Then you’ll wish you’d shut that portal.”

“I know,” Bryce said, and her throat tightened. “But I’m begging you. The Asteri just exterminated an entire human community in my city. Families.” Her eyes burned with tears, and the frigid wind threatened to freeze them. “They killed children. To punish me. To punish my mate”—Bryce gestured to Hunt—“for escaping their clutches. This has to end—it has to stop somewhere.”

The cold anger in Nesta’s eyes flickered.

Bryce couldn’t stop the tears that slid down her cheeks, turning instantly to ice. “I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to. But I promise I’ll return the Mask. I brought collateral—to prove that my intentions are good. That I will give it back.”

And with that, Bryce ushered her parents forward. Ember and Randall gave her wary glances, but edged closer to the portal.

It tore Bryce’s heart out to do it, but she said firmly to Nesta, “These are my parents. Ember Quinlan and Randall Silago. I’m giving them to you—to stay in your world, until I destroy the Asteri and return the Mask to you.”

Nesta’s eyes flared with shock, but she mastered it instantly, squaring her shoulders. “And if you die in the process?”