Page 29

That kernel of magic that had altered the language in her brain and set the Horn glowing had left something in her chest. Just enough fuel.

She’d have a nanosecond to teleport—winnow, as they called it here—down to the beasts. To that sliver of rock she’d noted jutting above them, little wider than her foot. Then she’d have to see if there was any way out. Some tunnel through which they moved beneath this place.

Unless it was only a pit, a veritable cage where they sat in darkness and waited for meat—dead or alive—to be thrown to them.

It would be a true leap of faith.

Her hands shook, but she balled them into fists. She’d outrun an Asteri. Granted, that was with Hunt’s lightning, but …

Every minute here counted. Every minute left Hunt and Ruhn in Rigelus’s hands. If they were even still alive.

“Hunt. Ruhn. Mom. Dad. Fury. June. Syrinx.” She whispered their names, fighting the tightness in her throat.

She had to get out of here. Before these people decided the risk she posed was too great, and dealt with her the smart way. Or before they decided they liked the sound of Midgard, of Rigelus, and knew she’d be a wonderful peace offering—

“Get the fuck up,” she grunted. “Get the fuck up and do something.”

Hunt would tell her she was out of her mind. Ruhn would tell her to try to spin some more bullshit, try to win her captors over. But Danika …

Danika would have jumped.

Danika had jumped—down into the depths of the Drop with Bryce. Knowing there’d be no return trip for her.

Danika, whose death Rigelus had engineered, manipulating Micah into killing her.

A white haze blurred Bryce’s vision. Primal wrath pumped through her, the sort only the Fae could descend into. It sharpened her vision. Tautened her muscles. The star on her chest flared with soft light.

“Fuck this,” she growled.

And teleported into the pit.

* * *

Tharion supposed he was still high, still hallucinating, when Ithan Holstrom, Declan Emmet, Tristan Flynn, Marc Rosarin, and an unfamiliar female wolf—carrying three very familiar sprites—walked into the suite. They were escorted by the Viper Queen and six of her drugged-out Fae bodyguards.

Lying on the couch in front of the TV, so chill it was as if his very bones had melted into the cushions, Tharion could barely lift his head as the group filed in. He gave them a lazy, blissed-out smile. “Hi, friends.”

Declan blew out a breath. “Burning fucking Solas, Tharion.”

Tharion’s face heated. He had a good idea how he looked. But he couldn’t convince his body to move. His head was too heavy, limbs too limp. He closed his eyes, sinking back into that sweet heaviness.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Flynn growled. “Did you do that to him?”

Tharion only realized that Ari had entered the living space when she hissed at Flynn, “Me? You think I go around drugging helpless people?”

“You go around abandoning them,” Flynn countered. “Or was that reserved for Bryce and Hypaxia?”

“Go back to your partying, pretty boy,” Ari spat.

“I’ll leave you all to catch up,” the Viper Queen crooned, and stalked out, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Tharion managed to open his eyes. “Why are you guys here?” Ogenas, his mouth felt so far away.

Declan paced a few steps. “Bryce, Athalar, and Ruhn didn’t make it out of the Eternal Palace.”

Was it the news or the venom that made his entire world spin? “Dead?” The word was like ash on his tongue.

“No,” Declan said. “As far as we know. Bryce disappeared, and Ruhn and Hunt are now being held in the Asteri’s dungeons.”