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Lidia looked coolly at the sprite. “I know plenty of rulers who don’t embody that virtue one bit.” Tharion could only stare at the Hind—Agent Daybright. Their … ally. “What else?”

“That is all we know,” Malana said, “all we have heard. Now tell us: Where is she?”

Lidia’s mouth curved upward. “Would you rush to free her?”

“Don’t patronize them,” Flynn snapped with rare gravitas. The sprites huddled closer to him.

To Tharion’s shock, Lidia inclined her head. “Apologies. Your courage and loyalty are commendable. I wish I had a thousand like you at my disposal.”

“To Hel with your compliments,” Sasa snarled, her flame blazing bright. “You promised—”

“The Asteri have her in their palace.”

“Beyond that!” Sasa cried, flaring white-hot again.

“You should have bargained better if you wanted to know more.”

Tharion tensed. This female might be an ally, but fuck, she was slippery.

In the furious silence, the Hind walked to the door. She halted before opening it, and didn’t turn around as she said to them all, “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. That you don’t tells me I’ve done my job very well. But …”

She looked over a shoulder, and Tharion saw her throat bob. “Ruhn and Athalar are in danger. As we speak, Rigelus is debating which one of them will die. It all boils down to how it might impact Quinlan. But once he decides, there will be nothing I can do to stop it. So I am …” Her voice caught. “I am begging you. Before it’s too late. Help me pull this off. Find a way out of this situation with the Viper Queen”—a nod to Tharion, then a nod to Declan—“be ready at a moment’s notice from me to hack into the cameras at the Eternal Palace”—and finally a look toward the rest of them—“and for Luna’s sake, be on that dock in two days’ time.”

With that, she left. For a long moment, none of them could speak.

“Well, Flynn,” Declan finally rasped, “looks like you got your wish.”

11

Rushing water roared through the cavern, its spray coating Bryce’s face with drops so cold they were kisses of ice.

The strange carvings had continued all the way here, showing great Fae battles and lovemaking and childbirth. Showing a masked queen, a crown upon her head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd. Behind her, a great mountaintop palace rose toward the sky, winged horses soaring among the clouds. No doubt some religious iconography of her divine right to rule. Beyond the mountaintop palace, a lush archipelago spread into the distance, rendered with remarkable detail and skill.

Scenes of a blessed land, a thriving civilization. One relief had been so similar to the frieze of the Fae male forging the sword at the Crescent City Ballet that Bryce had nearly gasped. The last carving before the river had been one of transition: a Fae King and Queen seated on thrones, a mountain—different from the one with the palace atop it—behind them with three stars rising above it. A different kingdom, then. Some ancient High Lord and Lady, Nesta had suggested before approaching the river.

She hadn’t commented on the lower half of the carving, which depicted a Helscape beneath their thrones, some kind of underworld. Humanoid figures writhed in pain amid what looked like icicles and snapping, scaly beasts—either past enemies conquered or an indication of what failure to bow to the rulers would bring upon the defiant.

The suffering stretched throughout, lingering even underneath that archipelago and its mountaintop palace. Even here, in paradise, death and evil remained. A common motif in Midgardian art, too, usually with the caption: Et in Avallen ego.

Even in Avallen, there am I.

A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori. A reminder that death was always, always waiting. Even in the blessed Fae isle of Avallen.

Maybe all the ancient art that glorified the idea of memento mori had been brought to Midgard by these people.

Maybe she was thinking too much about shit that really didn’t matter at the moment. Especially with an impassable river before her.

Bryce and Nesta peered down at the cascade rushing past, the night-dark waters flowing deeper into the caverns. The scent of iron was stronger here, likely because they now stood closer to the river than they had before. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that the tunnel continued on the other side, and the gap was large enough that jumping wasn’t an option.

“Now would be a good time for your friends with wings to find us,” Bryce muttered. Her star shone ahead, faint but still pointing the way to the path across the river.

Nesta glanced over a shoulder. “You winnowed out of the cell.” So the shadows had told Nesta and the others everything. “You can’t do so again?”

“I, ah … It drained me.” She hated to reveal any sort of weakness, but didn’t see a way around it. “I’m still recovering.”

“Surely your magic should have replenished by now. You were able to use some against me before the cave-in. And the star on your chest still glows. Some magic must remain in you.”

“I was always able to get it to glow,” Bryce confessed, “long before I ever had true power.” For a heartbeat, Bryce debated telling Nesta how she’d attained her depth of power, how she could get even more if someone fueled her up. Just to let the warrior know she wasn’t some loser who froze in the face of an enemy, giant Wyrm or no.