Crescent City Danika Quotes

Bryce's face crumpled as she lurched to her feet, sprinting to the Gate. She didn't care how it was possible as Danika said again, "Light it up" Then Bryce was laughing and sobbing as she screamed, "LIGHT IT UP, DANIKA! LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP!" Bryce slammed her palm onto the bronze disk of the Gate. And soul to soul with the friend whom she had not forgotten, the friend who had not forgotten her, even in death, Bryce made the Drop.

Loyal unto death and beyond

She swallowed, looking at the ground that was not earth, but the very base of Self, of the world. She whispered, “I’m scared.” Danika grabbed her hand again. “That’s the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.” She took Bryce’s face in her hands and pressed their brows together.

Danika just said it. “If he grabs his phone to check his messages before his dick’s barely out of you again, please have the self-respect to kick his balls across the room and come home to me.

Sometimes she felt bad for Danika’s future mate, whoever that would be. The poor bastard wouldn’t know what hit him when he bound himself to her.

She whispered, "I'm scared." Danika grabbed her hand again. "That's the point of it, Bryce. Of Life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

I want to know what Danika was up to. I feel like she was always two steps - more like ten steps - ahead. I want to know the full scope of it.

Because Danika was my mate.

He said after a while, "You traded your resting place in the Bone Quarter for Danika's." "Given what happens to everyone over there, I feel kind of relieved about that now." "Yeah." He took one of her hands in his and laid their interlaced fingers atop his heart. "But wherever you're headed when this life is over, Quinlan, that's where I want to be, too.

Because he’s Danika’s father.

Light it up, Bryce!' -- Danika Then Bryce was laughing and sobbing as she screamed, 'LIGHT IT UP, DANIKA! LIGHT IT UP! LIGHT IT UP! LIGHT IT UP!' And soul to soul with the friend whom she had not forgotten, the friend who had not forgotten her, even in death, Bryce made the Drop.

Why would Danika tell them to lie low in the Meat Market?” “Why tell them to lie low in the Bone Quarter?” She sniffed and sighed with a longing toward a bowl of noodle soup. Hunt said, “Even if Danika or Sofie told Emile it was safe to hide out, if I were a kid, I wouldn’t have come here.” “You were a kid, like, a thousand years ago. Forgive me if my childhood is a little more relevant.” “Two hundred years ago,” he muttered. “Still old as fuck.

LIGHT IT UP, DANIKA! LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP!

Just try, Bryce. One try. I'll be with you every step of the way. Even if you can't see me. I will always be with you.

Danika Fendyr would have skewered all of you to the front gates of the Den for how you treated Quinlan.

She whispered, "I`m scared." Danika grabbed her hand again. "That`s the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

Does it matter now?” Flynn asked. “I mean, no offense, but Danika’s gone.” Bryce gave him a flat look. “Really? I had no idea.” Flynn flipped her off, and the sprites ooohed at his shoulder. Bryce rolled her eyes. Exactly what Flynn needed: his own flock of cheerleaders trailing him at all hours. She said to Flynn, “Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and we’re dumb enough to think she’d follow your orders?” “Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote Lady Bryce Flynn in all your notebooks?” Hunt choked. Bryce countered with, “Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards—” “This is highly unusual behavior for royals,” Hypaxia observed. “You have no idea,” Ruhn muttered, earning a smile from the queen.

Danika wasn’t my sister, or my lover. But she was the one person I could be myself around and never feel judged. The one person that I knew would always pick up the phone, or call me back. She was the one person who made me feel brave because no matter what happened, no matter how bad or embarrassing or shitty it was, I knew that I had her in my corner. That if it all went to Hel, I could talk to her and it would be fine.

We were supposed to do this together. We were supposed to live out our lives together.

Hunt studied the knife sheathed at his thigh. “Danika Fendyr was one of the strongest Vanir in the city, even without making the Drop. She begged like a human by the end.

She had made the Drop solo, but she was not alone. She had never been alone. She never would be. Not with Danika in her heart,

He’d known. Her father had known there were tests to assess what had killed Danika and had done nothing. Had deliberately stayed out of it.

miss you. Every moment of every day.” “I know,” Danika said again, and put a hand over her heart. “And I’ve felt it. I’ve seen it.

Danika wouldn’t just become the Prime of the Crescent City wolves. No, she had the potential to be the Alpha of all wolves. On the fucking planet.

Sabine was a piece of shit. Had never whispered or hinted who Danika’s father might be

Danika surveyed the street ahead, glancing past a poster of the six enthroned Asteri tacked up on a wall—with an empty throne to honor their fallen sister

Light it up, bitch.' 'Light it up, asshole,' ...

If Danika could not be here, it was only fitting that her mate stood here instead.

—Tengo miedo. Danika le volvió a tomar la mano. —Ése es el punto, Bryce. De la vida. Vivir, amar, sabiendo que todo puede desaparecer mañana. Eso hace que todo sea mucho más valioso.

She cleared the deepest levels. “It’s not …,” the Autumn King breathed. “It’s not possible. She is alone.” Tears streamed down Sabine’s harsh face as she whispered, “No, she isn’t.” The force that was Danika Fendyr, the force that had given Bryce that boost upward, faded away into nothing. Declan knew it would never return, in this world or on a mist-veiled isle.

The force that was Danika Fendyr, the force that had given Bryce that boost upward, faded away into nothing. Declan knew it would never return, in this world or on a mist-veiled isle.

Danika, who’d wanted more for this world, for Bryce. Light it up. But maybe the Fae and their bloodline didn’t deserve Bryce’s light. Maybe they deserved to fall forever into darkness.

If Danika had made the Drop into immortality, she’d probably survive. But since she hadn’t—since she was the only one of the Pack of Devils who hadn’t yet done it … Bryce’s mouth turned dry.

Danika paused in the gaping archway, atop the green carpeted steps that led down to the archives beneath the gallery—where the true treasure in this place lay, guarded by Lehabah day and night.

Through love, all is possible. She knew that handwriting. “Why,” she asked carefully, voice shaking, “do you have Danika’s handwriting tattooed on you?” Baxian’s dark eyes became pained. Empty. “Because Danika was my mate.

It’d taken Danika a few years to say those words, and she still used them sparingly. Danika had initially hated it when Bryce said them to her—even when Bryce explained that she’d spent most of her life saying it, just in case it was the last time.

Not when the old wolf had given his granddaughter their family’s heirloom sword after centuries of promising it to Sabine only upon his death. The blade had called to Danika on her eighteenth birthday like a howl on a moonlit night, the Prime had said to explain his unexpected decision.

She swallowed, looking at the ground that was not earth, but the very base of Self, of the world. She whispered, "I'm scared." Danika grabbed her hand again. "That's the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

It was a long shot for an Omega like Thorne to ever be noticed by an Alpha like Danika. Not that Thorne had ever so much as hinted at it to any of them. But Bryce saw it—the gravitational pull that seemed to happen whenever Danika and Thorne were in a room together, like they were two stars orbiting each other.

Thorne barked a laugh. “At least Danika makes up for it with her winning personality.” Bryce smirked at the handsome Omega. “That must explain why I have a date and she hasn’t been on one in … what’s it now? Three years?” Thorne winked, his blue eyes sliding toward Danika’s scowling face. “Must be why.” Danika slouched in her

Sabine choked. “That’s Danika’s sword you’re sensing, Father—” The Prime’s age-worn eyes blinked unseeingly at the screen. His hand curled on his chest. “A wolf.” He tapped his heart. Still Bryce fought onward toward the Meadows, still she ran interference for anyone fleeing for the shelters, buying them a path to safety. “A true wolf.

Is that coffee?” Hunt busied himself with pouring three cups, passing one to Quinlan first. “A drop of coffee in a cup of milk, just as you like it.” “Asshole.” She swiped the mug. “I don’t know how you drink it straight.” “Because I’m a grown-up.” Hunt passed the second mug to Ithan, whose large hands engulfed the white ceramic cup that said I Survived Class of 15032 Senior Week and All I Got Was This Stupid Mug! Ithan peered at it, his mouth twitching. “I remember this mug.” Hunt fell silent as Bryce let out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you do, given how drunk you were. Even though you were a sweet baby frosh.” Ithan chuckled, a hint of the handsome, cocky male Hunt had heard about. “You and Danika had me doing keg stands at ten in the morning. How was I supposed to stay sober?” The wolf sipped from his coffee. “My last memory from that day is of you and Danika passed out drunk on a couch you’d moved right into the middle of the quad.” “And why was that your last memory?” Bryce asked sweetly. “Because I was passed out next to you,” Ithan said, grinning now.

The shifters were Fae from another world, Danika had explained. Blessed with a Fae form and a humanoid one, gifted with elemental powers. It confirmed what Lidia had long guessed. Why she had named Brannon after the oldest legends from her family’s bloodline: of a Fae King from another world, fire in his veins, who had created stags with the power of flame to be his sacred guards.

What happened when Mordoc visited Danika?” Bryce asked. “It didn’t go well. He came back to Sandriel’s castle…” Baxian said to Hunt, “Remember that time he ate that human couple?” Bryce choked. “He what?” Hunt said roughly, “Yeah.” “That was when he’d returned from the visit to the Den,” Baxian explained. “He was in such a rage that he went out and killed a human couple he found on the street.

This tattoo hurts like Hel,” Bryce complained. “I can’t even lean against my chair.” Danika countered in a singsong voice, “The artist warned you it’d be sore for a few days.” “I was so drunk I spelled my name wrong on the waiver. I’d hardly say I was in a good place to understand what ‘sore for a few days’ meant.” Danika, who’d gotten a matching tattoo of the text now scrolling down Bryce’s back, had already healed. One of the benefits to being a full-blooded Vanir: swift recovery time compared to humans—or a half-human like Bryce.

An hour later, after a quick check of the program scanning the gallery footage for Danika, Ithan had headed for the Istros, grabbing an iced coffee on his way. He suppressed a smile as he handed over a silver mark to a whiskery otter whose name tag on his yellow vest said Fitzroy.

Danika grabbed her hand again. “That’s the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.” She took Bryce’s face in her hands and pressed their brows together.

She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.

Bryce’s daily armor consisted solely of this: an Archesian amulet barely the size of her thumbnail, gifted by Jesiba on the first day of work. A hazmat suit in a necklace, Danika had marveled when Bryce had shown off the amulet’s considerable protections against the influence of various magical objects. Archesian amulets didn’t come cheap, but Bryce didn’t bother to delude herself into thinking her boss’s gift was given out of anything but self-interest. It would have been an insurance nightmare if Bryce didn’t have one.

Yet while Bryce would inherit barely enough power to do cool party tricks, Danika was expected to claim a sea of power that would put her ranking far past Sabine’s—likely equal to that of Fae royalty, maybe even beyond the Autumn King himself.

Assassin, Danika claimed. Even sweet Juniper, the faun who occupied the fourth side of their little friendship-square, admitted the odds were that Fury was a merc. Whether Fury was occasionally employed by the Asteri and their puppet Imperial Senate was up for debate, too.

House of Shitheads and Bastards, Danika always called them.

Danika lay there. In pieces. And at the foot of the bed, littering the torn carpet in even smaller pieces, as if he’d gone down defending Danika … she knew that was Connor. Knew the heap just to the right of the bed, closest to Danika … That was Thorne.

Bryce rode the elevator up to her floor, mulling everything over in the silence. She’d meant what she said to Hunt—she didn’t think her father was behind Danika’s and the pack’s deaths. She had little doubt he’d killed others, though. And would do anything to keep his crown. The Autumn King was a courtesy title in addition to her father’s role as a City Head—as for all the seven Fae Kings. No kingdom was truly their own. Even Avallen, the green isle ruled by the Stag King, still bowed to the Republic. The Fae had coexisted with the Republic since its founding, answerable to its laws, but ultimately left to govern themselves and retain their ancient titles of kings and princes and the like. Still respected by all—and feared. Not as much as the angels, with their destructive, hideous storm-and-sky powers, but they could inflict pain if they wished. Choke the air from your lungs or freeze you or burn you from the inside out. Solas knew Ruhn and his two friends could raise Hel when provoked.

I’m scared.” Danika grabbed her hand again. “That’s the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

Sabine lowered her gun, putting the safety back on. She trembled with barely restrained rage. “I didn’t steal anything, you stupid fucks. And I didn’t kill my daughter.” Hunt didn’t dare lower his gun. Didn’t dare let go of Bryce. Not as Sabine said, cold and joyless, “I was protecting her. Danika stole the Horn.

He says the bite marks on the torso aren’t consistent with sobek teeth. This person was already dead when they were dumped into the Istros. The sobek must have seen an easy meal and hauled it down to its lair to eat later.” She swallowed the dryness in her mouth and again looked at the body. A dryad female. Her chest cavity had been ripped open, heart and internal organs removed, and bite marks peppered— “These wounds look like the ones you got from the kristallos. And the mer’s lab figured this body was probably five days old, judging by the level of decay.” “The night we were attacked.” Bryce studied the analysis. “There was clear venom in the wounds. Tharion says he could feel it inside the corpse even before the mer did tests on it.” Most of those in the House of Many Waters could sense what flowed in someone’s body—illnesses and weaknesses and, apparently, venom. “But when they tested it …” She blew out a breath. “It negated magic.” It had to be the kristallos. Bryce cringed, reading on, “He looked into records of all unidentified bodies the mer found in the past couple years. They found two with identical wounds and this clear venom right around the time of …” She swallowed. “Around when Danika and the pack died. A dryad and a fox shifter male. Both reported missing. This month, they’ve found five with these marks and the venom. All reported missing, but a few weeks after the fact.” “So they’re people who might not have had many close friends or family,” Hunt said. “Maybe.” Bryce again studied the photograph. Made herself look at the wounds. Silence fell, interrupted only by the distant sounds of Lehabah’s show downstairs. She said quietly, “That’s not the creature that killed Danika.” Hunt ran a hand through his hair. “There might have been multiple kristallos—” “No,” she insisted, setting down the papers. “The kristallos isn’t what killed Danika.” Hunt’s brow furrowed. “You were on the scene, though. You saw it.” “I saw it in the hall, not in the apartment. Danika, the pack, and the other three recent victims were in piles.” She could barely stand to say it, to think about it again.

Bryce held up the photo. “These wounds aren’t the same. The kristallos wanted to get at your heart, your organs. Not turn you into a—a heap. Danika, the Pack of Devils, Tertian, the acolyte and temple guard—none of them had wounds like this. And none had this venom in their system.” Hunt just blinked at her. Bryce’s voice cracked. “What if something else came through? What if the kristallos was summoned to look for the Horn, but something worse was also there that night? If you had the power to summon the kristallos, why not summon multiple types of demons?

Please,” Bryce said. “Just tell me if you know what killed Danika. Please.” A soft laugh. “Run the tests again. Find what is in-between.” He began to fade, as if a phone call were indeed breaking up. “Aidas,” she blurted, stepping right to the edge of their circle. Hunt fought the urge to tuck her to his side. Especially as darkness frayed the edges of Aidas’s body. “Thank you. For that day.” The Prince of the Chasm paused, as if clinging to this world. “Make the Drop, Bryce Quinlan.” He flickered. “And find me when you are done.” Aidas had nearly vanished into nothing when he added, the words a ghost slithering through the room, “The Oracle did not see. But I did.

Jesiba now said, “Knowing the wolves, they’ll think Quinlan asked me to do something to you that made you … unnatural.” “They know Bryce is a good person.” “Do they? As far as I recall, they’ve been anything but kind to her since Danika and the Pack died. You included.” Ithan’s cheeks warmed. “It was a rough time. For all of us.” “Danika Fendyr would have skewered all of you to the front gates of the Den for how you treated Quinlan.

His boots scuffed on the steps. Here, Bryce had once knelt. Right here, she’d traded her resting place for Danika’s. He squeezed her hand tighter. Bryce squeezed back, leaning into him as they stepped under the archway. Dry ground lay beyond. Mist, and grayness, and silence. Marble and granite obelisks rose like thick spears, many inscribed—but not with names. Just with strange symbols. Grave markers, or something else? Hunt scanned the gloom, ears straining for any hint of Reapers, of the ruler they sought.

Yes,” Bryce said tightly. “Before Danika helped to save this city. Where’s the Pack of Devils?” she asked again, voice hitching. Something large growled and shifted in the shadows behind the Under-King, but remained hidden by the mists. Hunt’s lightning zapped at his fingers in warning. “Life is a beautiful ring of growth and decay,” the Under-King said, the words echoing through the Sleeping City around them. “No part left to waste. What we receive upon birth, we give back in death. What is granted to you mortals in the Eternal Lands is merely another step in the cycle. A waypoint along your journey toward the Void.” Hunt growled. “Let me guess: You hail from Hel, too?” “I hail from a place between stars, a place that has no name and never shall. But I know of the Void that the Princes of Hel worship. It birthed me, too.” The star in the center of Bryce’s chest flared. The Under-King smiled, and his horrific face turned ravenous. “I beheld your light across the river, that day. Had I only known when you first came to me—things might have been quite different.” Hunt’s lightning surged, but he reined it in. “What do you want with her?” “What I want from all souls who pass here. What I give back to the Dead Gate, to all of Midgard: energy, life, power. You did not give your power to the Eleusian system; you made the Drop outside of it. Thus, you still possess some firstlight. Raw, nutritious firstlight.” “Nutritious?” Bryce said. The Under-King waved a bony hand. “Can you blame me for sampling the goods as they pass through the Dead Gate?” Hunt’s mouth dried up. “You … you feed on the souls of the dead?

The front door opened. Bryce stared at him. Standing on the coffee table with Danika’s sword.

Only those who are worthy. Who have enough energy. There is no judgment but that: whether a soul possesses enough residual power to make a hearty meal, both for myself and for the Dead Gate. As their souls pass through the Dead Gate, I take a … bite or two.” Hunt cringed inwardly. Maybe he had been too hasty in deeming the being before him not evil. The Under-King went on, “The rituals were all invented by you. Your ancestors. To endure the horror of the offering.” “But Danika was here. She answered me.” Bryce’s voice broke. “She was here. She and all of the newly dead from the past several centuries. Just long enough that their living descendants and loved ones either forget or don’t come asking. They dwell here until then in relative comfort—unless they make themselves a nuisance and I decide to send them into the Gate sooner. But when the dead are forgotten, their names no longer whispered on the wind … then they are herded through the Gate to become firstlight. Or secondlight, as it is called when the power comes from the dead. Ashes to ashes and all that.” “The Sleeping City is a lie?” Hunt asked. His mother’s face flashed before him. “A comforting one, as I have said.” The Under-King’s voice again became sorrowful. “One for your benefit.” “And the Asteri know about this?” Hunt demanded. “I would never presume to claim what the holy ones know or don’t know.” “Why are you telling us any of this?” Bryce blanched with horror. “Because he’s not letting us leave here alive,” Hunt breathed. And their souls wouldn’t live on, either. The light vanished entirely, and the voice of the Under-King echoed around them. “That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said.

Bryce focused on her breathing, as she’d learned to do in the wake of losing Danika, as she’d learned to do in the face of all those Vanir and Fae who’d sneered at her. The star kept glowing, pointing the way. The creatures settled, as if her emotions were theirs. She willed herself to calm. To feel no fear. The creatures settled further. Some laid their heads down. She glanced at the star in her chest. Still glowing

I think Danika was reckless and willful, and the Asteri knew they could never control her as they could Sabine. I think they realized that with Danika, they’d produced a wolf so powerful she rivaled the ones I faced in the First Wars. True wolves. And she was not on their side. She had to be eliminated.

What's the point of being immortal badasses if we have sagging tits?

But it was the wolf packs who reached Parthos first. Who started the slaughter and burnings. It was the wolf packs, led by Asteri-bred bloodhounds, who hunted down my sisters. I’ve never forgotten that.” Ithan’s stomach churned at the shameful history of his people, but he asked, “Bred?” A wry smile. “The gift already existed amongst the wolves, but the Asteri encouraged it. Bred it into certain lines. They still do.” “Like Danika.” Jesiba’s fingers resumed their drumming. “The Fendyrs have been a … carefully cultivated line for the Asteri.” “How so?” She fixed her blazing eyes on him. This female had lived through all of Midgard’s Asteri history. He could hardly wrap his mind around it. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the Fendyrs are so dominant? Generation after generation?” “Genetics.” “Yes, genetics bred by the Asteri. Sabine and Mordoc were ordered to breed.

At whose urging? She’s an angry, small-minded female. Her brother was smarter, but clearly no male of worth, if he sold his daughter to the Astronomer. He was likely deemed unfit by the Asteri, who coaxed Sabine into challenging him. And when Sabine’s dominance won out, they made sure Mordoc was sent to produce a line of more … competent Fendyrs.” “Well, Micah fucked that up for them.” “And who do you think pulled Micah’s strings?” Ithan was glad he was sitting. “You think the Asteri had Micah kill Danika? After all that trouble to breed her into existence?

She whispered, 'I'm scared.' Danika grabbed her hand again. 'That's the point of it, Bryce. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

Bryce pressed, “Did Danika Fendyr say anything to you before she … vanished this spring?” “You mean before she traded her soul to save yours, as you did with your own.

Lidia hadn’t mentioned any of that as Danika had filled her in on how they’d become shifters, and the Asteri’s experimentation with them on Midgard, which had eventually erased their pointed ears. She’d been glad when Danika had died, all her questions with her. No longer.

I was protecting her. Danika stole the Horn.

She was sick of these surprises about Danika, about all the things she’d never known—

Shreds of the tattoo across his heart—Through love, all is possible, inked in Danika’s handwriting—remained. How he’d ever get it replaced … Hunt’s own heart strained.

Danika was a thousand times the wolf you are. No matter where you are, you’ll never be where she was.

There’s a portrait hidden inside its encasing,” Nesta added. “Of you and three females.” The photo of Bryce, Danika, June, and Fury.

Danika realized that the shifters are Fae.

It was a long shot for an Omega like Thorne to ever be noticed by an Alpha like Danika.

Danika Fendyr,” Tharion said, his eyes soft. Like he knew who Danika had been to her. “The intel came in a day before her death. She was spotted doing a deal on a boat just past here.

Ithan’s gaze remained on the powerful male now rising to sniff the air. Yes. A long time ago. He came to visit the Den. Why? Ithan at last responded, eyes wide and pained. Because he’s Danika’s father.

Sabine snarled at Ithan, “Your brother knew his place. Was content to be Danika’s Second. You’re not nearly as smart as he was.” Ithan didn’t back down as Sabine advanced. “I might not be as smart as Connor,” he said, “but at least I wasn’t dumb enough to sleep with Mordoc.

Life was good. Life was fucking good, and she couldn’t gods-damn wait to make the Drop with Danika and do this until the earth crumbled into dust.

But Briggs asked, “What month is it? What’s today’s date?” Horror coiled in her gut. This man had wanted to kill people, she reminded herself. Even if it seemed he hadn’t killed Danika, he had planned to kill plenty of others, to ignite a larger-scale war between the human and Vanir. To overthrow the Asteri. It was why he remained behind bars.

Briggs went on, “My followers knew Danika was a potential asset. We’d discussed it, right up until the raid. And that night, Danika and her pack were fair with us. We fought, and even managed to get in a few good blows on that Second of hers.” He whistled. “Connor Holstrom.” Bryce went utterly rigid. “Guy was a bruiser.” From the cruel curve of his lips, he’d clearly noticed how stiff she’d gone at the mention of Connor’s name. “Was Holstrom your boyfriend? Pity.

Sabine hissed, “Danika wasn’t at the temple that night. She had nothing to do with the Horn being stolen.” Bryce avoided the urge to close her eyes at the lie that confirmed everything. Claws slid from Sabine’s knuckles, embedding in her desk. “Who told you Danika was at the temple?” “No one,” Bryce lied. “I thought I might have remembered her mentioning—” “You thought?” Sabine sneered, voice rising to imitate Bryce’s. “It’s hard to remember, isn’t it, when you were high, drunk, and fucking strangers.

Bryce didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything other than, “Who’s selling synth in the river?” The grin vanished from Tharion’s face. Hunt began to object, but the mer said, “Not in, Legs.” He shook his head. “On the river.” “So it’s true, then. It’s—it’s what? A healing drug that leaked from a lab? Who’s behind it?” Hunt stepped up to her side. “Tharion—” “Danika Fendyr,” Tharion said, his eyes soft. Like he knew who Danika had been to her. “The intel came in a day before her death. She was spotted doing a deal on a boat just past here.

She didn’t care how it was possible as Danika said again, “Light it up.” Then Bryce was laughing and sobbing as she screamed, “LIGHT IT UP, DANIKA! LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP, LIGHT IT UP!” Bryce slammed her palm onto the bronze disk of the Gate.

Micah purred, unaware of the camera mere feet away, “I saw the footage of you in the Comitium lobby. You gave your Archesian amulet to Sandriel. And she destroyed it.” His broad hand clamped around her neck, and Bryce squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s how I realized. How you realized the truth, too.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bryce whispered. Micah’s hand tightened, and it might as well have been his hand on Hunt’s throat for all the difficulty he had breathing. “For three years, you wore that amulet. Every single day, every single hour. Danika knew that. Knew you were without ambition, too, and would never have the drive to leave this job. And thus never take off the amulet.” “You’re insane,” Bryce managed to say. “Am I? Then explain to me why, within an hour after you took off the amulet, that kristallos demon attacked you.” Hunt stilled. A demon had attacked her that day? He found Ruhn’s stare, and the prince nodded, his face deathly pale. We got to her in time was all Danaan said to him, mind-to-mind. “Bad luck?” Bryce tried. Micah didn’t so much as smile, his hand still clamped on her neck. “You don’t just have the Horn. You are the Horn.” His hand again ran down her back. “You became its bearer the night Danika had it ground into a fine powder, mixed it with witch-ink, and then got you so drunk you didn’t ask questions when she had it tattooed onto your back.” “What?” Fury Axtar barked. Holy fucking gods. Hunt bared his teeth, still forbidden from speaking. But Bryce said, “Cool as that sounds, Governor, this tattoo says—” “The language is beyond that of this world. It is the language of universes. And it spells out a direct command to activate the Horn through a blast of raw power upon the tattoo itself. Just as it once did for the Starborn Prince. You may not possess his gifts like your brother, but I believe your bloodline and the synth shall compensate for it when I use my power upon you. To fill the tattoo—to fill you—with power is, in essence, to blow the Horn.

Ruhn breathed, “He’s going to fucking kill her.” Bryce crawled backward through the debris of the table, blood running from her mouth as she whispered to Micah, “You killed Danika and the pack.” Micah smiled. “I enjoyed every second of it.” The conference room shook. Or maybe that was just Hunt himself.

Danika Fendyr was the smart one. She stole the Horn from the temple, and you knew her well enough to finally realize what she did with it.” “Why would Danika have ever wanted the Horn?” Bryce asked innocently. “It’s broken.” “It was cleaved. And I’m guessing you already learned what could repair it at last.” Her heart thundered as Micah growled, “Synth.” She got to her feet, her knees shaking only slightly. “Governor or not, this is private property. If you want to burn me at the stake with all these books, you’ll need a warrant.

Did you learn, in all your research, that I am an investor in Redner Industries? That I have access to all its experiments?” “Oh fuck,” Isaiah said from across the pit. “And did you ever learn,” Micah went on, “what Danika did for Redner Industries?” Bryce still crawled backward up the stairs. There was nowhere to go, though. “She did part-time security work.” “Is that how she sanitized it for you?” He smirked. “Danika tracked down the people that Redner wanted her to find. People who didn’t want to be found. Including a group of Ophion rebels who had been experimenting with a formula for synthetic magic—to assist in the humans’ treachery. They’d dug into long-forgotten history and learned that the kristallos demons’ venom nullified magic—our magic. So these clever rebels decided to look into why, isolating the proteins that were targeted by that venom. The source of magic. Redner’s human spies tipped him off, and out Danika went to bring in the research—and the people behind it.” Bryce gasped for breath, still slowly crawling upward. No one spoke in the conference room as she said, “The Asteri don’t approve of synthetic magic. How did Redner even get away with doing the research on it?” Hunt shook. She was buying herself time. Micah seemed all too happy to indulge her. “Because Redner knew the Asteri would shut down any synthetic magic research, that I would shut their experiments down, they spun synth experiments as a drug for healing. Redner invited me to invest. The earliest trials were a success: with it, humans could heal faster than with any medwitch or Fae power. But later trials did not go according to plan. Vanir, we learned, went out of their minds when given it. And humans who took too much synth … well. Danika used her security clearance to steal footage of the trials—and I suspect she left it for you, didn’t she?” Burning Solas. Up and up, Bryce crawled along the stairs, fingers scrabbling over those ancient, precious books. “How did she learn what you were really up to?” “She always stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Always wanting to protect the meek.

Micah’s smile was hideous. “She made no secret that she kept an eye on the synth trials, because she was keen to find a way to help her weak, vulnerable, half-human friend. You, who would inherit no power—she wondered if it might give you a fighting chance against the predators who rule this world. And when she saw the horrors the synth could bring about, she became concerned for the test subjects. Concerned for what it’d do to humans if it leaked into the world. But Redner’s employees said Danika had her own research there, too. No one knew what, but she spent time in their labs outside of her own duties.” All of it had to be on the flash drive Bryce had found. Hunt prayed she’d put it somewhere safe. Wondered what other bombshells might be on it. Bryce said, “She was never selling the synth on that boat, was she?” “No. By that point, I’d realized I needed someone with unrestricted access to the temple to take the Horn—I would be too easily noticed. So when she stole the synth trial footage, I had my chance to use her.” Bryce made it up another step. “You dumped the synth into the streets.” Micah kept trailing her. “Yes. I knew Danika’s constant need to be the hero would send her running after it, to save the lowlifes of Lunathion from destroying themselves with it. She got most of it, but not all. When I told her I’d seen her on the river, when I claimed no one would believe the Party Princess was trying to get drugs off the streets, her hands were tied. I told her I’d forget about it, if she did one little favor for me, at just the right moment.” “You caused the blackout that night she stole the Horn.” “I did. But I underestimated Danika. She’d been wary of my interest in the synth long before I leaked it onto the streets, and when I blackmailed her into stealing the Horn, she must have realized the connection between the two. That the Horn could be repaired by synth.” “So you killed her for it?” Another step, another question to buy herself time. “I killed her because she hid the Horn before I could repair it with the synth. And thus help my people.

Synth is synthetic magic, Bryce. To replace real magic. Of which you have none. It gives humans Vanir powers and strength for like an hour. And then it can seriously fuck you up. Make you addicted and worse. For the Vanir, it’s even riskier—a crazy high and superstrength, but it can easily turn bad. Danika didn’t want you even knowing something like that existed.

Tharion finished Sofie’s inbox, checked the junk folder, and then finally the trash. It was mostly empty. He clicked open her sent folder, and groaned at the tally. But he began reading again. Click after click after click. His phone chimed with an alert: thirty minutes until he needed to get into the water. He could reach the air lock in five minutes, if he walked fast. He could get through another few emails before then. Click, click, click. Tharion’s phone chimed again. Ten minutes. But he’d halted on an email dated three years ago. It was so simple, so nonsensical that it stood out. Subject: Re: Dusk’s Truth The subject line was weird. But the body of her email was even weirder. Working on gaining access. Will take time. That was it. Tharion scanned downward, toward the original message that Sofie had replied to. It had been sent two weeks before her reply. From: BansheeFan56 Subject: Dusk’s Truth Have you gotten inside yet? I want to know the full story. Tharion scratched his head, opened another window, and searched for Dusk’s Truth. Nothing. No record of a movie or book or TV show. He did a search on the email system for the sender’s name: BansheeFan56. Another half-deleted chain. This one originating from BansheeFan56. Subject: Project Thurr Could be useful to you. Read it. Sofie had replied: Just did. I think it’s a long shot. And the Six will kill me for it. He had a good feeling he knew who “the Six” referred to: the Asteri. But when Tharion searched online for Project Thurr, he found nothing. Only news reports on archaeological digs or art gallery exhibits featuring the ancient demigod. Interesting. There was one other email—in the drafts folder. BansheeFan56 had written: When you find him, lie low in the place I told you about—where the weary souls find relief from their suffering in Lunathion. It’s secure. A rendezvous spot? Tharion scanned what Sofie had started to reply, but never sent. Thank you. I’ll try to pass along the info to my She’d never finished it. There were any number of ways that sentence could have ended. But Sofie must have needed a place where no one would think to look for her and her brother. If Sofie Renast had indeed survived the Hind, she might well have come here, to this very city, with the promise of a safe place to hide. But this stuff about Project Thurr and Dusk’s Truth … He tucked those tidbits away for later. Tharion opened a search field within Declan’s program and typed in the sender’s address. He started as the result came in. Danika Fendyr.

Do you even care that this oh-so-powerful thunderbird is a kid? Who survived a fucking death camp? And is now scared and alone?” Tharion blinked, and she could have strangled him. “I know this is a dick thing to say,” Ithan added, “but if the kid’s got that power, why didn’t he use it to get out of Kavalla himself?” “Maybe he doesn’t know how to use it yet,” Tharion mused. “Maybe he was too weak or tired. I don’t know. But I’ll see you guys later.” He made to step past Bryce. She blocked him again. “Emile aside, Danika wasn’t a rebel, and she didn’t know anyone named Sofie Renast.” Ithan said, “I agree.” Tharion said firmly, “The email was linked to her. And the email address was BansheeFan56—Danika was clearly a Banshees fan. Skim through any of her old social media profiles and there are ten thousand references to her love of that band.

Bryce bristled. “What did the emails say?” Tharion snapped, a rare show of temper apparently getting the better of him, “Does Dusk’s Truth mean anything to you? What about Project Thurr?” At her blank look, and Ithan’s, the mer said, “I thought so.” Bryce clenched her jaw hard enough to hurt. After this spring, she’d realized she hadn’t known as much about Danika as she’d believed, but to add even more to that list … She tried not to let it sting. Tharion took another challenging step toward the door. But Bryce said, “You can’t drop all that information and expect me not to do anything. Not to go looking for this kid.” Tharion arched a brow. “So softhearted. But stay out of it, Legs.” “No way,” Bryce countered. Hunt cut in, “Bryce. We were given an order by the Asteri—by Rigelus himself—to lie low.” “Then obey them,” Tharion said. Bryce glared at the mer, then at Hunt. But Hunt said, storms in his eyes, “The Asteri will slaughter us, along with your entire family, if word reaches them that you’re involved with rebel activity in any way. Even if it’s just helping to find a lost kid.

Ruhn asked, “Why’s your heart racing?” Bryce peered at her chest, half expecting her scar to be glowing. Mercifully, it lay dormant. “Well, apparently Tharion thinks Danika was involved with the rebels.” Ruhn gaped. “Thanks, Bryce,” Tharion muttered. Bryce threw him a saccharine smile and explained Tharion’s investigation to Ruhn. “Well?” Ruhn asked when she’d finished, his face drained of color. “Was Danika a rebel?” “No!” Bryce splayed her arms. “Solas, she was more interested in what junk food we had in our apartment.” “That’s not all she was interested in,” Ruhn corrected. “She stole the Horn and hid it from you. Hid it on you. And all that shit with Briggs and the synth …” “Okay, fine. But the rebel stuff … She never even talked about the war.” “She would have known it’d endanger you,” Tharion suggested. Hunt said to Tharion, “And you’re cool with being press-ganged into working on this shit?” His face remained paler than usual. Tharion just crossed his long, muscular arms. Hunt went on, voice lowering, “It won’t end well, Tharion. Trust me on that. You’re tangling in some dangerous shit.” Bryce avoided looking at the branded-out tattoo on Hunt’s wrist. Tharion’s throat bobbed. “I’m sorry to have even come here. I know how you feel about this stuff, Athalar.” “You really think there’s a chance Sofie is alive?” Ruhn asked. “Yes,” Tharion said. “If she survived the Hind,” Hunt said, “and the Hind hears about it, she’ll come running.” “The Hind might already be headed this way,” Tharion said thickly. “Regardless of Sofie, Emile and his powers remain a prize. Or something to be wiped out once and for all.” He dragged his long fingers through his dark red hair. “I know I’m dropping a bomb on you guys.” He winced at his unfortunate word choice, no doubt remembering what had happened last spring. “But I want to find this kid before anyone else.” “And do what with him?” Bryce asked. “Hand him over to your queen?” “He’d be safe Beneath, Legs. It’d take a damn long while even for the Asteri to find him—and kill him.” “So he’d be used by your queen like some kind of weaponized battery instead? Like Hel am I going to let you do that.

Ithan cut in before Bryce could start spitting venom, “You really think the kid is coming here? That the Hind will follow?” Hunt rubbed his jaw. “The 33rd hasn’t heard anything about the Hind coming over. Or Ophion being in the area.” “Neither has the Aux,” Ruhn confirmed. “Well, unless one of the marsh sobeks swam all the way across the Haldren to take a bite out of an Ophion soldier, I can’t think of any other reason why I found dismembered body parts of one here,” Tharion said. “I don’t even know where to begin with that,” Hunt said. “Just trust me,” Tharion said, “Ophion is on its way, if not already here. So I need to know as much as possible, and as quickly as possible. Find Emile, and we potentially find Sofie.” “And gain a nice child soldier, right?” Bryce said tightly. Tharion turned pleading eyes on her. “Either the River Queen puts me in charge of hunting for them, or she assigns someone else, possibly someone less … independently minded. I’d rather it be me who finds Emile.” Ithan burst out, “Can we discuss that you guys are talking about rebels in this city? About Danika potentially being a rebel?” He snarled. “That’s a serious fucking claim.” “Sofie and Danika exchanged a number of intentionally vague emails,” Tharion said. “Ones that included an allusion to a safe hiding place here in Lunathion. A place where the weary souls find relief from their suffering. I’m guessing the Bone Quarter, though I’m not sure even Danika would be so reckless as to send them there. But anyway, it’s not a claim. It’s a fact.

Bryce smiled slightly. Also true. “But do you think Danika might have been keeping anything else a secret?” Fury seemed to consider. Then said, “The only other secret I knew about Danika was that she was a bloodhound.” Bryce straightened. “A what?” Fury signaled the barista for another chai. “A bloodhound—she could scent bloodlines, the secrets in them.” “I knew Danika had an intense sense of smell,” Bryce acknowledged. “But I didn’t realize it was that …” She trailed off, memory surfacing. “When she came home with me over winter break freshman year, she could pick out the family ties of everyone in Nidaros. I thought it was a wolf thing. It’s special?” “I only know about it because she confronted me when we first met. She scented me, and wanted to understand.” Fury’s eyes darkened. “We sorted our shit out, but Danika knew something dangerous about me, and I knew something dangerous about her.” It was as much as Fury had ever said about being … whatever she was. “Why is it dangerous to be a bloodhound?” “Because people will pay highly to use the gift and to kill anyone with it. Imagine being able to tell someone’s true lineage—especially if that person is a politician or some royal whose parentage is in question. Apparently, the gift came from her sire’s line.