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“And the magic, the power of the bargain that caused the tattoo to appear … it chose the design. The star meant nothing to me. I thought maybe it was related to my training, but its shape was identical to the scar on your chest.”

“So we’re obviously destined to be best friends,” Bryce teased. Nesta didn’t smile or laugh. Bryce asked, “Is that … is that why you volunteered to come to get me?”

“I’ve been in the Fae realms long enough to know that there are forces that sometimes guide us, push us along. I’ve learned to let them. And to listen.” Nesta smirked. “It’s why I didn’t kill you for following your starlight into the river. You were doing the same thing.”

Bryce’s chest tightened. The female had a story to tell, and one Bryce would, in any other circumstance, like to hear. But before she could even consider asking, something massive and white appeared ahead. A skeleton of enormous bones.

“The Wyrm?” Bryce asked, even as she realized it wasn’t. This thing was different, with a body like a sobek’s. Each tooth was as large as Bryce’s hand.

“No,” Azriel said from behind them, the rushing river muffling his soft words. “And I don’t think the Wyrm ate it, if its skeleton is intact like this.”

“Do you know what it is?” Bryce asked.

“No,” Azriel said again. “And part of me is glad not to.”

“You think there are more down here?” Nesta asked Azriel, scanning the dark.

“I hope not,” Azriel answered. Bryce shuddered and took the opportunity to continue onward, leading the way, leaving those ancient, terrifying bones far behind.

The river was still a thunderous roar when the carvings changed. Normally, they were full of life and action and movement. But this one was simple, clearly meant to be the sole focus. Something of great importance to whoever had carved it.

An archway had been etched, stars glimmering around it. And in that archway stood a male figure, the image created with impressive depth. His hand was upraised in greeting.

And Bryce might have looked closer, had the Middengard Wyrm not exploded from the river behind them.

14

The Middengard Wyrm had arrived at last. Precisely according to Bryce’s plan.

She’d been dripping blood for it all this way, leaving a trail, constantly scraping off her scabs to reopen her wounds—ones she’d intentionally inflicted on herself by “falling” into the stream. If the Wyrm relied on scent to hunt, then she’d left a veritable neon sign leading right to them. She hadn’t known when or how it would attack, but she’d been waiting.

And she was ready.

Bryce fell back as not only shadows, but blue light flared from Azriel—right alongside the ripple of silver flame from Nesta. Back-to-back, they faced the massive creature with razor-sharp focus. Ataraxia gleamed in Nesta’s hand. Truth-Teller pulsed with darkness in Azriel’s.

Now or never. Her legs tensed, readying to sprint.

Nesta’s eyes slid to Bryce’s for a heartbeat. As if understanding at last: Bryce’s “unhealing” hand. The blood she’d wiped on the walls. Her musing about the linked river system in these caves, sussing out what they knew regarding the terrain and the Wyrm. To unleash this thing—on them.

“I’m sorry,” Bryce said to her. And ran.

She meant them no harm—she hadn’t lied about that. They could undoubtedly face the Wyrm and live. Nesta had said her sister had done exactly that.

But Bryce needed to learn whatever Urd had sent her to discover. If it was intel that could help or harm her world … she didn’t want these people knowing. Using it against her. Offering it up to the Asteri. Or wielding it against Midgard for their own gain. Whatever lay ahead was for her alone.

Bryce raced down the tunnel, her path lit by flashes of silver flame and blue magic. Nesta’s and Azriel’s powers, flaring like lightning against the nightmare of the Wyrm.

The faces of the tunnel carvings watched Bryce’s flight with cold, damning eyes. Her breath sawed in her throat. She had no idea how far she had to run, but if she could get a little farther—

A shout bounced off the rocks behind her. Not one of pursuit, but of pain. Azriel. She glanced over a shoulder just as his blue light went out.

Then a female shout resounded through the cavern, and Nesta’s silver flame vanished, too, leaving Bryce’s starlight to illuminate the way. Leaving only darkness and silence behind her.

She had to keep going. They were seasoned warriors. They were fine.

But that silence, interrupted by Bryce’s breathing, her rushing steps …

She was the master of spinning bullshit. She’d kept them distracted, kept them from thinking her a manipulative little shit, but …