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She had the Mask. And the Horn. And Theia’s star. And the blades. It would have to be enough to take on living gods.

“Bryce, we have to go,” Hunt said, stronger now. “Can you teleport us back to the wall?”

It should have been a relief, to know her parents were in that other world, with people who she had learned were decent and kind, but her mom would never forgive her. Randall would never forgive her. Not just for throwing them into that world, but for leaving Cooper behind.

“What the fuck,” Hunt hissed, and Bryce whirled as he hauled her behind him.

Right as the Harpy, clad in white to camouflage her against the snow, dove from the mists. Even her black wings had been painted white to blend in.

Amid the swirling mists, she was as awful as Bryce remembered, yet her face … There was nothing alive there, nothing remotely aware. She was a husk. A host. With one mission: kill.

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Any hope of succeeding died in Tharion as the River Queen’s daughter threw herself into her mother’s lap and sobbed. “You married her?”

They were the only words he could discern among the weeping.

Sathia just stared at the girl. Like she was completely out of politesse to spin to their advantage. The River Queen stroked her daughter’s dark hair, murmuring gentle reassurances, but her eyes blazed with pure hate for Tharion.

Tharion began, “I …” He couldn’t find the right words.

The River Queen’s daughter lifted her head at his voice, her face streaked with tears. The river outside trembled, shaking the Blue Court. “You sold yourself to some Fae harlot?” She sniffed at Sathia. “With dirt in her veins? Not even a drop of water to call to you?”

Sathia took the insults, stone-faced, granting him a window into the way she’d been treated in her life. It didn’t sit well.

It was enough to goad him into responding, “Her magic is that of growing things, of life and beauty. Not of drowning and stifling.”

The River Queen’s daughter stood slowly. “You dare speak to me in such a way?”

And at her petulant fury, at her mother’s rage … he’d had it. He’d fucking had it.

Tharion pointed to the window. Not at the sobeks, but at the surface too far above to see. “There are imperial battleships in this river! Asphodel Meadows is a smoldering ruin, with the bodies of children strewn in the streets!”

He’d never yelled like this. At anyone, least of all his former queen and princess.

But he couldn’t stop it, the pure rage and desperation that ruptured from him. “And all you care about is who one stupid fucking male is married to? There are babies in that rubble! And you cry only for yourself!”

Sathia was gaping, warning etched on her face, but Tharion spoke directly to the River Queen. “Bryce sent me to beg you to help, but I’m asking you personally, too. Not as mer, not as someone in the Blue Court, but as a living being who loves this city. There is nowhere else on Valbara that might weather the storm. This place, Beneath … it can withstand at least the initial brunt. Give the children of Crescent City a safe harbor. A chance. If you won’t let all the people come, then at least take the children.”

“No,” the River Queen’s daughter sniveled. “You used and discarded me. You don’t have the right to ask such favors of us, of the Blue Court.”

“I’m sorry,” Tharion burst out. “I am sorry that I misled you, and slept with you, and realized too late that I had gone too far. I’m sorry I strung you along for years—I didn’t know how to talk to you, or be an adult, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me, and it was immature, and I hate that I did that to you, to anyone.”

She glowered at him, sniffling.

Tharion said, “And I married Sathia to bail her out of a shitty situation. King Morven of Avallen was forcing her into marriage with a Fae brute, and the only options were face the Asteri’s wrath and die, or wed. I offered her a way out. Marriage to me. I owed it to my sister to help a female in trouble. Our marriage isn’t a comment on how I feel about you or her.”

“And the fact that she is a Fae beauty held no sway over you?” sneered the River Queen’s daughter.

“No,” Tharion said honestly. “I …” He looked toward his wife, who was indeed pretty. Beautiful. But that hadn’t entered into his decision to offer his aid. “She was a person in trouble, who needed help.”

The River Queen’s daughter seethed.

Tharion said, voice breaking, “But if you take in the people of this city, if you shelter them against whatever storm the Asteri might bring … when this is over, if I am alive …” He held her stare. “I will divorce my wife and marry you.”

Sathia whirled to him, but he couldn’t face her, couldn’t bear to see her reaction to how he’d abandon her, too—

The River Queen’s daughter sniffed, a child calming from a tantrum. “I accept. I shall marry you once you’re rid of her.”