Crescent City Ruhn Quotes

Ruhn looked at his sister and said softly, "You brought so much joy into my life, Bryce." It was perhaps the only goodbye they'd be able to make.

Okay, let’s do a head count. If you’re disowned, disgraced, or both, raise your hand.” Tharion, Baxian, Lidia, Hunt, and Ruhn raised their hands.

The male blinked. His eyes were the same shade of violet blue as Ruhn’s.

It couldn't be. It... it couldn't be. Bryce and Hunt were frozen with shock. Ruhn whispered, "Day?" Lidia Cervos looked over a shoulder. And she said with quiet calm in a voice he knew like his own heartbeat, a voice he had never once heard her use as the Hind, "Night.

It means that he’s going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It’s what happened then, and what’s happening now. You’re true mates—the way Fae are mates, in your bodies and souls. That’s what was different about your scent the other day. Your scents have merged. As they do between Fae mates.

The Horn has no power,” Ruhn reminded him. “It is a symbol—and symbols will always wield power of their own.

Ruhn Danaan knew three things with absolute certainty: He had smoked so much mirthroot that he couldn’t feel his face. Which was a damn shame because there was a female currently sitting on it. He had downed an obscene amount of whiskey, because he had no idea what the female’s name was, or how they’d gotten to his bedroom, or how he’d wound up with his tongue between her legs. He really fucking loved his life. At least … right now.

You remind me of the wind.” He tried to explain. “Powerful and able to cool or freeze with half a thought, shaping the world itself though no one can see you. Only your impact on things.” He added, “It seems lonely, now that I’m saying it.

The world seemed to hold its breath as the elegant doe walked up to Ruhn and gently, lovingly, nuzzled his neck.

I’m saying I want shit kept quiet.” She grinned at Ruhn, showing all her white teeth, the expression more savage than amused. “I’m saying if you three morons leak any of this to your Aux buddies or drunken hookups, I am going to be very unhappy.” Honestly, Hunt would have liked nothing more than to grab some popcorn and a beer, kick back in a chair, and watch her verbally fillet these assholes.

Declan said, "Can we pause for a moment and remark on the fact that both of you have spoken to the Prince of the Pit? Is no one else about to puke at the thought?" Ruhn held up a hand, and Tharion lazily lifted one from the bench, but Bryce high-fived Hunt. "Special kids club," she said to the angel, who winked at her.

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae. Son of the Autumn King and the current possessor of the Starsword, fabled dark blade of the ancient Starborn Fae. Proof of the prince’s Chosen One status among the Fae—whatever the Hel that meant.

You brought so much joy into my life, too, Ruhn.

Gods, what did he do to you? Anger and grief filled the question as it came from all around him, from inside him. Ruhn managed to say, Nothing you haven’t done a thousand times yourself.

But Ruhn lay awake, holding her tight, and did not let go until dawn.

It'd be safer not to go at all, but here we are, going," Hunt said. Ruhn wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself as the angel crossed the room and knelt before Bryce, grabbing her hands. "I want a future with you. That's why I'm going. I'm going to fight for that future." His sister's eyes softened. Hunt kissed her hands. "And to do so, we can't play by other people's rules.

You could learn a thing or two from your sister.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruhn demanded. Flynn and Dec pretended to be busy looking into a closed butcher shop as they passed by. “You’re a prince,” Lidia said coolly. “Start acting like one.

You're my sister,' Ruhn didn't bother to keep his voice down. No, there was pride in his voice. And damn if that didn't hit her in the heart. 'Of course I'd come to save your ass.

You could, uh, talk to her,” Flynn said from beside Ruhn, shutting yet another useless drawer full of catalog cards. “I can literally feel you brooding.” “I’m not brooding.” “You’re brooding,” Declan said from Ruhn’s other side. “You’re brooding,” Ruhn said, nodding to Dec’s taut face.

So, are we supposed to meditate with you or something?” Flynn set down the mirthroot. “How the Hel would that help?” Ruhn asked. “Solidarity?” Flynn suggested.

If we get through this, Ruhn,” she said, “I’ll buy you a beer.

Bryce explained everything again, and Hunt couldn't keep himself from tugging her closer. When she finished, Ruhn echoed Hunt's words. "We got lucky tonight. You got lucky tonight." Bryce winked at Hunt. "And I plan to get lucky again." "Gross," Ruhn said as Declan snickered.

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.

I don't give a shit,' he said, smiling slightly. 'I don't care if I'm called Prince or Starborn or the Chosen One or any of that.' He grabbed her hand. 'The only thing I want to be called right now is your brother.' He added softly. 'If you'll have me.' She winked, even as her heart tightened unbearably. 'I'll think about it.

Ruhn Danaan knew three things with absolute certainty:

You remind me that I'm alive,' she said, voice thick. 'You remind me that goodness can exist in the world.

My mind found yours in the darkness. Across an ocean. No fancy crystal required. You think that's nothing?

Half-dangling between Hunt and Baxian, Ruhn stared at her. Still said nothing. The world seemed to hold its breath as the elegant doe walked up to Ruhn and gently, lovingly, nuzzled his neck.

Ruhn read the words on each wooden door: Year Three. Year Seven. Year Five. She skidded to a halt, gripping a doorjamb. Ruhn reached her side as she shoved her face up to the glass. Year Nine. A group of teenagers—most of them mer, with striped skin and various coloring—sat in rows of desks in the classroom. Lidia pressed a hand against the door. Tears rolled down her cheeks. And then a boy, golden-haired and blue-eyed, looked away from his teacher and toward the window. The kid wasn’t mer. The ground slid out from under Ruhn. The boy had Lidia’s face. Her coloring. Another boy to his left, also not mer, had dark hair and golden eyes. Lidia’s eyes. Behind them, Flynn grunted with surprise. “You’ve got brothers on this ship?” “They’re not my brothers,” Lidia whispered. Her fingers curled on the glass. “They’re my sons.

Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.” “A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.” “Desperate times,” Ruhn said, meeting Hunt’s stare. Determination and focus filled the prince’s face.

Ruhn said to her, “I asked you to come. Not him.” Bryce linked her arm through Athalar’s, the portrait they painted laughable: Bryce in her fancy work dress and heels, the angel in his black battle-suit. “We’re joined at the hip now, unfortunately for you. Best, best friends.” “The best,” Hunt echoed, his grin unfading.

Ruhn had called her a queen before she left. And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.

But somehow... Ruhn seemed to know his fate. He didn't appear inclined to fight it.

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae,

Azriel, without Rhysand to translate, watched in silence. Bryce could have sworn shadows wreathed him, like Ruhn’s, yet … wilder. The way Cormac’s had been.

They're not going to ask for your permission like that Night Court dude.

I don't know how to wake up. Open your eyes. No shit.

You do remember that Bryce and Athalar are together?” Ruhn said. “Try to get between them, and you’ll get a refresher course on why he was called the Umbra Mortis.

Ruhn, who had driven the sword right through their father’s cold heart.

The line will end with me, you fucking prick, Ruhn said into his father’s mind, because I yield my crown, my title, to the queen.

Rhysand, he’d called himself. The one who looked so much like Ruhn.

The strike had been for the rebellion, Hunt knew, but the escape—the escape had been entirely for Ruhn.

Luna’s Horn remains at large.” Ruhn twisted back to his father. “So? What does one have to do with the other?” “I want you to find it.” Ruhn glanced to the notebooks, the prism. “It went missing two years ago.” “And I now have an interest in locating it. The Horn belonged to the Fae first. Public interest in retrieving it has waned; now is the right time to attain it.

Hey, Dec,” he groaned. Declan laughed thickly—like he might have been holding back tears. “It’s so fucking good to hear your voice.” Ruhn squeezed his eyes shut, throat working. “I love you. You know that?

I'm going to find you,' he said against her burning hair. 'I'll find you one day, I promise.' She shuddered but melted into him. Like she'd yielded any attempt at restraint. 'You remind me that I'm alive, too,' he whispered.

Again,” Azriel reminded them, “her knees have healed.” Bryce glanced at the thick scarring over his fingers. What—who—had done such a brutal thing to him? And though she knew it was dumb to open up, to show any vulnerability, she said quietly, “The male who fathered me … he used to burn my brother to punish him. The scars never healed for him, either.” Ruhn had just tattooed over them. A fact she’d only learned right before she’d come here, and knowing about the pain he’d suffered—

I was wrong. I think the Oracle meant all of them, Ruhn went on, mind-to-mind. The male lines. The Starborn Princes included—all you fucks who have corrupted and stolen and never once apologized for it. The entire system. This bullshit of crowns and inheritance.

The Hawk smiled up at Baxian. “How about we start with your tongue today, traitor?” To Baxian’s credit, he stuck out his tongue toward the Hawk in invitation. Hunt smirked. Yeah—they were all in this together. To the bitter end. The Hawk cut his stare toward Hunt. “You’ll be next, Athalar.” “Come and get it,” Hunt gasped. Ruhn extended his tongue as well.

Director Kagani added gently, “I’ll contact Brann and Actaeon’s adoptive parents to see if they can come in, too.” Lidia nodded silently, and kept walking. Ruhn glanced to Flynn, whose brows were high. Ruhn raised his own brows in silent agreement. A sudden movement snared his attention and Ruhn whirled toward Lidia, blindly reaching for her. But he wasn’t swift enough to catch her as she fainted, crumpling to the floor.

I would never hurt him. Everything I’ve done recently, everything I’m doing now, has been to keep Ruhn alive. Do you know how hard it is to keep Pollux at bay? To convince him to go slow? Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She screamed the last part at Flynn, who backed away a step. The Hind heaved a breath, shaking. “I need to get him out. If you don’t help me, then his death is on you. And I will destroy you, Tristan Flynn.

Hunt squinted as he lowered his wing and met the shithead’s eyes. “Fuck you.” Like Hel would these assholes make him beg and grovel—either for his own life or Ruhn’s. Lidia said mildly, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Athalar.” Hunt looked, but not fast enough. The Hawk certainly didn’t look fast enough. And Hunt knew he’d treasure this moment forever: the moment when Lidia Cervos pulled out her gun and fired it right between the Hawk’s eyes.

The Autumn King smiled. It was a thing of nightmarish beauty. “You truly are my child. More so than Ruhn ever was.” “That’s not a compliment.” But she went on, content to needle him with her guesses. “You want to know if I can kill them, don’t you? The Asteri. If the Starborn light is different from their light, and how it is different. That’s where the orrery comes in: contemplating where we come from … what sort of light we have, how it can be weaponized.

I do not pry where I am not willingly invited. Bryce lurched back in the chair, nearly knocking it over at the smooth male voice in her mind. Rhysand’s voice. But she answered, thanking Luna for keeping her own voice cool and collected, Code of mind-speaking ethics? She felt him pause—as if almost amused. You’ve encountered this method of communication before. Yes. It was all she’d say about Ruhn. May I look in your memories? To see for myself? No. You may not. Rhysand blinked slowly. Then he said aloud, “Then we’ll have to rely on your words.” The petite female gaped at him. “But—

Indeed, Ruhn said, “Wanna … hear a … joke?” The prince didn’t wait for a reply before he continued, “Two angels … and a Fae Prince … walk into … a dungeon …” Ruhn didn’t finish, and didn’t need to. A broken, rasping laugh came out of Hunt. Then Baxian. Then Ruhn. Though every heave shrieked through his arms, his back, his broken body, Hunt couldn’t stop laughing. The sound bordered on hysteria. Soon tears were leaking down his cheeks, and he knew from the scent that the others were laughing and crying as well, like it was the funniest fucking thing in the world. The door to the chamber banged open,

We’re not going to make it,” Baxian called as Lidia zoomed toward the guard station. “Lidia,” Athalar warned. “Get down!” Lidia barked, and Ruhn shut his eyes, sinking low as the grate lowered at an alarming rate. Metal screamed and exploded right above them, the car rocking, shuddering— Yet Lidia kept driving. She raced onto the open road beyond the city as the grate slammed shut behind them. “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” Hunt shouted to Lidia, and Ruhn opened his eyes to find that the gunner had been ripped clean off. Baxian was clinging for dear life to the back of the jeep, a manic grin on his face.

Lidia finally turned at that, teeth flashing. “I want to meet my children.” Ruhn’s mind spun at her expression. Rage and pain and a mother’s unbreaking ferocity. “I know you do,” Kagani said with unflappable calm. “But it would be best if we talk in my office after school. It’s right down the hall.” The Hind didn’t so much as move. “Consider what is best for them, Lidia,” Kagani encouraged. “I understand, I truly do—I’m a mother, myself. If I had …” Her throat worked. “I would want the same if I had made your choices. But I’m also an educator, and an advocate for these children. Please put the twins first today. Just as you have every day for the past fifteen years.

El hombre alado de cabello oscuro que entró detrás de ella... Bryce ahogó un grito. —¿Ruhn? El hombre parpadeó. Sus ojos eran del mismo tono azul violeta que los de Ruhn. Su cabello corto era del mismo negro brillante. La piel de este hombre era un poco más morena, pero la cara, la postura... Eran las de su hermano. También tenía las orejas puntiagudas, aunque él tenía esas alas de cuero como las de los otros dos hombres. La mujer a su lado le preguntó a la mujer pequeña algo en su lenguaje. Pero el hombre se quedó viendo a Bryce. La sangre que tenía encima, la Espadastral y la daga, que seguían brillando con sus luces opuestas Él levantó la mirada hacia la de ella con estrellas en los ojos. Estrellas de verdad.

Can’t we find some way out of this, Mr. Fancy Prince?” “Marc’s on it,” Dec said, holding up his phone. “He thinks you two might be able to use your royal sway to either commandeer them on behalf of the royal household or get the Astronomer to accept payment for them rather than press charges.” “Payment?” Bryce blurted. “Relax,” Flynn said, smirking. “We got the money, Princess.” “Yeah, I’ve seen your daddy’s fancy house,” Bryce quipped, earning a scowl from Flynn and an ooooooh from the sprites. Bryce suppressed her smile and lifted a brow to Ruhn. She’d fucked up one friendship thanks to pulling princess rank, but this…For Lehabah she’d do it. “You in, Chosen One?” Ruhn’s mouth quirked to the side. “Hel yeah, Starborn.

Bryce held her stare. Clearly, they didn’t want her dead, if they’d sent someone to retrieve her, not hunt her down. But if she returned to that cell, how long would they keep her there? Even hours could make a difference for Hunt and Ruhn— “I’m always up for a day of discovery,” Bryce said. Then she erupted with light. Nesta cursed, but Bryce didn’t wait to see if the light had blinded her before bolting down the passage. Without any weapons, a running head start was her best chance of making it. A force like a stone wall hit her from behind. The world tilted, her breath rushing from her as she collided with the stone ground, bones barking in pain. Shadows had wrapped around her, pinning her, and she thrashed, kicking and swatting at them.

Mates are … an intense thing for the Fae.” She swallowed audibly. “It’s a lifetime commitment. Something sworn between bodies and hearts and souls. It’s a binding between beings. You say I’m your mate in front of any Fae, and it’ll mean something big to them.” “And we don’t mean something big like that?” he asked carefully, hardly daring to breathe. She held his heart in her hands. Had held it since day one. “You mean everything to me,” she breathed, and he exhaled deeply. “But if we tell Ruhn that we’re mates, we’re as good as married. To the Fae, we’re bound on a biological, molecular level. There’s no undoing it.” “Is it a biological thing?” “It can be. Some Fae claim they know their mates from the moment they meet them. That there’s some kind of invisible link between them. A scent or soul-bond.” “Is it ever between species?” “I don’t know,” she admitted, and ran her fingers over his chest in dizzying, taunting circles. “But if you’re not my mate, Athalar, no one is.” “A winning declaration of love.” She scanned his face, earnest and open in a way she so rarely was with others. “I want you to understand what you’re telling people, telling the Fae, if you say I’m your mate.” “Angels have mates. Not as … soul-magicky as the Fae, but we call life partners mates in lieu of husbands or wives.” Shahar had never called him such a thing. They’d rarely even used the term lover. “The Fae won’t differentiate. They’ll use their intense-ass definition.” He studied her contemplative face. “I feel like it fits. Like we’re already bound on that biological level.” “Me too. And who knows? Maybe we’re already mates.

You’re delusional,” Cormac’s grin promised violence. “I am stooping to marry your sister. Many of my people will consider the union a disgrace.” “Careful,” the Autumn King warned, true anger sparking in his whiskey-colored eyes. “Regardless of her human lineage, Bryce is an heir to the Starborn line. More so than my son.” He threw a frown dripping with disdain at Ruhn. “We have not seen starlight with such force for thousands of years. I do not take handing her over to Avallen lightly.” “What the fuck are you getting from it?” Nausea clawed its way up Ruhn’s throat. His father answered, “Your sister has one value to me: her breeding potential. Both of our royal houses will benefit from the union.” Cormac added, “And the continued commitment to the alliance between our peoples.” “Against what?” Had everyone lost their minds? “A weakening of magic in the royal bloodline,” Cormac said. “As recent generations have demonstrated.” He waved with a flame-crusted hand toward Ruhn and his shadows.

Hunt opened his mouth, his last bit of bravado before the shitshow began, but in the shadows behind Pollux, beyond the fireplace, something dark moved. Something darker than shadow. Not Ruhn’s shadows. The prince didn’t seem to be able to access those when constrained by the gorsian shackles. Only the prince’s mind-speaking abilities remained. This shadow was different—darker, older. Watching them. Watching Hunt. Hallucinations: Bad, because it meant he had some infection that even his immortal body couldn’t fight off. Good, because it meant he might quietly slip away into death’s embrace. Bad, because it meant the Asteri might turn their attention fully to Bryce. Good, because the pain would be gone. Bad, because he still held out some stupid, fool’s hope deep in his heart of seeing her again. Good, because Bryce wouldn’t come looking for him if he was dead. Across the room, the thing in the shadows moved. Just slightly. Like it had crooked a finger at him. Death. That was the thing in the shadows. And now it beckoned.

I united the sword and knife. Prophecy fulfilled.” “You don’t know anything about that prophecy,” the Autumn King said, and returned to his work. She asked sweetly, “So my interpretation is wrong? When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be. Well, I went to our old world. Met some people. Reminded them we exist. Came back here. Thus, two people reunited.” He shook his head in pure disgust. “You know as little about those blades as you do your own true nature.” She made a show of yawning. “Well, I do know that only the Chosen One can handle the blades. Wait—does that mean you can’t? Since last I checked … only Ruhn and I got the Chosen One membership cards.” “Ruhn doesn’t possess the raw power to handle such a thing correctly.” “But I do?” she asked innocently. “Is that why I’m here? We’re going to cooperate in some kind of training montage so I can take down the Asteri for you?” “Who says I want to get rid of the Asteri?” “You’ve been really careful not to mention one way or another how you feel about them. One moment, you’re protecting me from them, the next you’re trying to keep the Fae in their good graces. Which is it?

Rhysand mastered himself, a cool mask sliding into place. “You live in such a world.” It wasn’t entirely a question. But Bryce nodded. “Yes.” “And they want to bring all of that … here.” “Yes.” Rhysand stared ahead. Thinking it through. Azriel just kept his eyes on the space where the orb had displayed the utter destruction of her world. Dreading—and yet calculating. She’d seen that look before on Hunt’s face. A warrior’s mind at work. Amren turned to Rhys, meeting his stare. Bryce knew that look, too. A silent conversation passing between them. As Bryce and Ruhn had often spoken. Her heart wrenched to see it, to remember. It steadied her, though. Sharpened her focus. The Asteri had been here—under a different name, but they’d been here. The ancestors of these Fae had defeated them. And Urd had sent her here—here, not Hel. Here, where she’d instantly encountered a dagger that made the Starsword sing. Like it had been the lodestone that had drawn her to this world, to that riverbank. Could it really be the knife from the prophecy? She’d believed that destroying the Asteri would be as simple as obliterating that firstlight core, yet Urd had sent her here.

But the portal was closing, getting smaller and smaller, and— A glowing, black figure filled it. Then another. Aidas and Apollion. Their power grabbed the edges of the portal and held it a little wider. Held it open a moment longer. And with what little strength he had left, Hunt threw a desperate, raging, blazing-hot rope of lightning toward Apollion. The only being on Midgard who could handle his power. Apollion caught it, in that humanoid form once more, and pulled. Aidas flared with black light, pushing back against the sealing portal, against Urd’s wishes. Hunt was close enough to see the princes’ strained faces, Apollion’s teeth flashing as he dragged Hunt by his lightning, inch by inch, closer and closer. Aidas was sweating, panting as he fought to keep the portal open— And then Ruhn was there. Starlight flaring. Pushing back against the impossible. Lidia was beside him, crackling with fire. Tharion. Holstrom. Flynn and Dec. A fire sprite, her small body bright with flame. Isaiah and Naomi. So many hands, so many powers, from almost every House. The friends they’d made were what mattered in the end. Not the enemies. Through love, all is possible. It was love that was holding the portal open.

Although Bryce’s body still buzzed with all she and Hunt had done, seeing that slender female body on the table, the prince kneeling, head bowed…Her eyes stung. Hunt’s fingers found hers and squeezed. “I knew,” Cormac said roughly. His first words in minutes. “I think I always knew, but…” Ruhn stepped to his cousin’s side. Put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Cormac leaned his brow against the rim of the examination table. His voice shook. “She was good, and brave, and kind. I never deserved her, not for one minute.” Bryce’s throat ached. She let go of Hunt’s hand to approach Cormac, touching his other shoulder. Where would Sofie’s soul go? Did it linger near her body until they could give her a proper Sailing? If she went to one of the resting places, they’d be dooming her to a terrible fate. But Bryce didn’t say any of that. Not as Cormac slid his fingers beneath the black cloth and pulled out a blue-tinged, stiff hand. He clasped it in his own, kissing the dead fingers. His shoulders began to shake as his tears flowed. “We met during a recon report to Command,” Cormac said, voice breaking. “And I knew it was foolish, and reckless, but I had to speak to her after the meeting was over.” He kissed Sofie’s hand again, closing his eyes. “I should have gone back for her that night.” Tharion, who’d been poring over the corner’s files on Sofie at the desk by the far wall, said gently, “I’m sorry if I gave you false hope.” “It kept her alive in my heart a little longer,” Cormac said, swallowing back his tears. He pressed her stiff hand against his brow. “My Sofie.

They found Tharion on the couch with Ithan, the tv blasting the latest sports stats. Tharion munched on a piece of pizza, long legs sprawled out in front of him, bare feet on the coffee table. Ruhn might have stepped inside to grab a piece of that pizza had Bryce not gone still. A Fae sort of stillness, sizing up a threat. His instinct went to high alert, bellowing at him to defend, to attack, to slaughter any threat to his family. Ruhn suppressed it, held back by the shadows begging to be unleashed, to hide Bryce from sight. Ithan called over to them, “Pizza’s on the counter if you want some.” Bryce remained silent as fear washed over her scent. Ruhn’s fingers grazed the cool metal of the gun strapped to his thigh. “Your cat’s a sweetheart, by the way,” Ithan went on, not taking his focus from the TV as he stroked the white cat curled on his lap. Bryce slowly shut the door behind her. “He scared the shit out of me when he leapt onto the counter a few minutes ago, the bastard.” The wolf ran his fingers through the luxurious coat, earning a deep purr in response. The cat had stunning blue eyes. They seemed keenly aware as they fixed on Bryce. Ruhn’s shadows gathered at his shoulders, snakes waiting to strike. He subtly drew his gun. Behind her, a familiar ripple of ether-laced power kissed over her skin. A small reassurance as Bryce croaked, “That’s not a cat.” Hunt arrived at the apartment just in time to hear Bryce’s words through the shut front door. He was inside in a moment, lightning gathered at his fingers. “Oh, calm yourself,” the Prince of the Chasm said, leaping into the coffee table.

Where is Bryce?” hissed the Prince of the Chasm. “She went to find you.” Hunt’s voice broke. Beside him, Ruhn groaned, stirring. “She went to fucking find you, Aidas.” The Princes of Hel looked at each other, some wordless conversation passing between them. Hunt pushed, “You two told her to find you. Fed us all that bullshit about armies and wanting to help and getting her ready—” “Is it possible,” Aidas said to his brother, ignoring Hunt entirely, “after everything …?” “Don’t fall into romanticism,” Apollion cautioned. “The star might have guided her,” Aidas countered. “Please,” Hunt cut in, not caring if he was begging. “Tell me where she is.” Baxian grunted, rising to consciousness. Aidas said quietly, “I have a suspicion, but I can’t tell you, Athalar, lest Rigelus wring it from you. Though he has likely already arrived at the same conclusion.” “Fuck you,” Hunt spat. But Apollion said to his brother, “We must leave.” “Then what was the point of all this watching me from the shadows?” Hunt demanded. “To ensure that we can continue to rely on you when the time comes.” “To do what?” Hunt ground out. “What you were born to do—to accomplish the task for which your father brought you into existence,” Apollion said before fading into nothing, leaving Aidas standing alone before the prisoners. Shock reared up in Hunt, dampened by the weight of an old, unbidden hurt. “I have no father.” Aidas’s expression was sad as he stepped out of the shadows. “You spent too long asking the wrong questions.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Aidas shook his head. “The black crown once again circling your brow is not a new torment from the Asteri. It has existed for millennia.” “Tell me the fucking truth for once—” “Stay alive, Athalar.” The Prince of the Chasm followed his brother, vanishing into darkness and embers.

How strong is your bite, Athalar?” Hunt stilled. “What the fuck do you mean?” “If I … swing into you …,” Ruhn said, gasping. “Can you bite off my hand?

Looking for someone?” a female voice crooned. Ruhn whirled, his stomach bottoming out as he beheld the masked figure before him. The Harpy stood in the shadows beyond the fountain. As if she’d been waiting.

A moment later, the door opened. Tharion smiled crookedly at Ruhn, and waved to Tristan Flynn and Declan Emmett standing in the foyer behind him. “Got space for one more roommate?

he used to burn my brother to punish him. The scars never healed for him, either.” Ruhn had just tattooed over them. A fact she’d only learned right before she’d come here, and knowing about the pain he’d suffered— Azriel dropped her hand.

Athalar was his brother now, by law. And Ruhn didn’t put up with people talking shit about his family. The family he liked, anyway.

So Ruhn said, Fuck your excuses. And rolled off that mental raft to let the sea of pain drown him.

I have no plans to fuck you over. Either of you.” She faced Hypaxia, who was giving Bryce that more-than-princess look, too. “We’re allies. Not only politically, but … as females who have had to make some shitty, hard choices. As females who live in a world where most powerful males see us only as breeding tools.” Hypaxia nodded again, but Celestina continued to stare at Bryce. A predator surveying the best place to strike. Hunt rallied his power again. Bryce continued, “I’m no one’s prize mare. I took a gamble with this idiot”—she jerked a thumb toward Hunt, who gaped at her—“and luckily, it paid off. And I just want to say that”—she swallowed—“if you two want to make a gamble with each other, say fuck it to the arrangements with Ephraim and Ruhn, then I’m with you. We’d have to go against the Asteri, but … look what I did tonight. Whatever I can do, whatever clout I have, it’s yours. But let’s start by walking out of this closet in one piece.

Indeed, Ruhn said, “Wanna … hear a … joke?” The prince didn’t wait for a reply before he continued, “Two angels … and a Fae Prince … walk into … a dungeon …” Ruhn didn’t finish, and didn’t need to. A broken, rasping laugh came out of Hunt. Then Baxian. Then Ruhn.

Cloaked in shadows, Ruhn raced down the halls, encountering no one. Not one guard. It was too quiet.

Ruhn’s head eddied away as a familiar, lovely scent hit him.

Even if it meant she would be denied everything she was due, even if revealing herself would have meant she could lord it over you, she wouldn’t do that to Ruhn. Because she loved him that much more than she hated you.

You bring traitors and enemies of the empire to my home,” the Fae King intoned. The shadows around him halted their twining—predators readying to attack. But Bryce pointed to herself, then to Ruhn, the portrait of innocent confusion, and said, “Are you talking to me or him?

Where the Hel was Cormac? Considering that Bryce and Hunt were currently in the Bone Quarter, Ruhn had expected them to be the ones in major peril today.

FLYNN’S. DO NOT TOUCH, RUHN. I MEAN IT THIS TIME. Ruhn had written beneath the scribbling on one of the bottles: NO ONE LIKES YOUR WEIRD SHAMPOO ANYWAY. Flynn had scrawled, right along the bottom edge of the bottle, THEN WHY IS IT NEARLY EMPTY? AND WHY IS YOUR HAIR SO SHINY? ASSHOLE!!!

Ithan said warily, sadly, The similarities run beneath the surface. Ruhn waited for the blow. Knew it was coming even before Ithan explained, He’s a bloodhound. Ruhn said to Cormac, Teleport us the fuck out of here. He should have done it the moment they saw Mordoc coming.

There were trenches of Hel warmer than the look she gave Ruhn.

power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well. Perhaps even telepathy. Ruhn glanced at the vomit, scenting the female who’d just left. “Where the fuck is she?

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae.

I will never forgive you for this,” she said, voice like ice itself. “Never.” “I know,” Ruhn said.

The male blinked. His eyes were the exact same shade of violet blue as Ruhn's.

A female of pure flame. Or that was how she chose to appear. Not how Lehabah had been made of flame, with her body visible, but rather a female cloaked in it, only a flash of a bare wrist or an ankle or shoulder through the veil. She was humanoid, but that was all he could glean. She looked like one of the radical sun-priests who’d gone rogue and immolated themselves to be close to their god. Who are you? he asked. Who are you? she challenged. Not one hint of her face. I asked first. Her flame flared, as if in annoyance. But she said, The little black dog sleeps soundly on a wool blanket. Ruhn blew out a breath. There it was—the code phrase Cormac had given him to confirm her identity. He said, And the gray tabby cleans her paws by the light of the moon. Utter nonsense. But she said, I’m Agent Daybright, in case that wasn’t clear enough. Now…you are? Ruhn peered down at himself, swearing. He hadn’t thought to hide his body— But he found only a form of night and stars, galaxies and planets. As if his silhouette had been filled by them. He lifted a hand, not finding skin but the starry blanket of the sky covering his fingers. Had his mind instinctively shielded him? Or was this what he was, deep below the skin? Was this fire-being standing thirty feet down the mental bridge what she was, deep below her own skin?

The mirthroot wrapped soft, sweet arms around his mind and dragged him into its shimmering pool. Ruhn let himself drown in it, too mellow to do anything but let the music wash over him, his body sinking into the mattress, until he was falling through shadows and starlight. The strings of the song hovered overhead, golden threads that glittered with sound. Was he still moving his body? His eyelids were too heavy to lift to check.

Bryce heard their whispering anyway. Athalar’s in one of the holding cells under the Comitium, Fury said. Micah didn’t execute him? No. Justinian and Viktoria … He crucified the angel, and did some fucked-up shit to the wraith. They’re dead? Worse. Justinian’s still bleeding out in the Comitium lobby. They gave him some shit to slow his healing. He’ll be dead soon enough if he’s lucky. What about the wraith? Micah ripped her from her body and shoved her essence into a glass box. Put it at the base of Justinian’s crucifix. Rumor says he’s going to dump the box—Viktoria—into the Melinoë Trench and let her fall right to the bottom of the sea to go insane from the isolation and darkness. Fucking Hel. You can’t do anything? They’re traitors to the Republic. They were caught conspiring against it. So, no. But Athalar’s not crucified beside Justinian? I think Micah came up with a different punishment for him. Something worse. What could be worse than what the other two are enduring? A long, horrible pause. A lot of things, Ruhn Danaan. Bryce let the words wash over her. She sat on the couch and stared at the dark screen of the television. And stared into the black pit inside herself.

To Ruhn’s eternal shock, it was Sandriel who looked away first, rolling her eyes and shuffling her papers. Even his father blinked at it. And assessed the young queen with a narrowed gaze. No doubt wondering how a twenty-six-year-old witch had the nerve. Or what Hypaxia might have on Sandriel to make an Archangel yield to her.

The Prime of Wolves, the Autumn King, the two Governors, the River Queen’s fair daughter, Queen Hypaxia, and Jesiba all took seats at that central table. Their seconds—Sabine, Ruhn, Tharion, an older-looking witch—all claimed spots in the ring of tables around them. No one else from the House of Flame and Shadow had come with Jesiba, not even a vampyr. The ranks fell into place beyond that, each ring of tables growing larger and larger, seven in total. The Asterian Guard lined the uppermost level, standing against the wall, two at each of the room’s three exits. The seven levels of Hel indeed.

She’s our fucking princess.” “She is not,” Ruhn growled. “The Autumn King has not recognized her, nor will he ever.” “Why?” Dec demanded. “Because she’s his bastard child. Because he doesn’t like her. I don’t fucking know,” Ruhn spat. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever tell them his own motivations for it. That deep-rooted fear of what the Oracle’s prophecy might mean for Bryce should she ever be granted a royal title. For if the royal bloodline was to end with Ruhn, and Bryce was officially a princess of their family … She would have to be out of the picture for it to come to pass. Permanently. He’d do whatever was necessary to keep her safe from that particular doom. Even if the world hated him for it.

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.

The witch-queen Hypaxia is beautiful and wise. You could do far worse, you know.” “I know.” That was as much as Ruhn would say about it. She was beautiful. Stunningly, distractingly beautiful. But she had zero interest in him. She’d made that clear in the months after the Summit. He didn’t entirely blame her. Even if he’d had a glimpse of what life might have been like with her. Like peering through a keyhole.

The male said, as if seeing her try to puzzle him out, “I’m your cousin, Bryce.” Hunt—the fucking bastard—snorted. “I don’t have any Fae cousins.” Bryce snapped. If only the stupid scar would halt its glowing. If only people would go back to partying. “That light says otherwise,” Cormac said with blatant confidence. “I might be Ruhn’s cousin directly through his mother’s kin, but your father, King Einar, is Fae, and his line once crossed with ours long ago.” He held up his hand, and flame wreathed his fingers before winking out. Bryce blinked. Her mother had never once spoken the Autumn King’s name, and Bryce had only learned it through the news when she was old enough to use a computer. “Why are you here?” Ruhn bit out. From the corner of her vision lightning sizzled at Hunt’s fingertips. One strike, and Hunt could fry this fucker. Yet Cormac smiled. His dead eyes gleamed with nothing but contempt as he bowed mockingly to Bryce. “I’m here to meet my bride.

Of course, the marriage is unorthodox, considering your bride’s family and bloodline.” Ruhn stiffened. “You’ve got some shit to spew about Hypaxia, then let’s hear it.” But Cormac said to the Autumn King, “He doesn’t know?” His father, damn him, seemed bored as he said, “It didn’t seem necessary. My order is law.” Ruhn glanced between them. “What is this?” His father, features tightening with distaste—as if disappointed that Ruhn hadn’t learned it himself—said, “The late Queen Hecuba had two daughters, from different sires. Hypaxia’s sire, Hecuba’s coven learned afterward, was a powerful necromancer from the House of Flame and Shadow. Hypaxia seems to have inherited his gifts alongside her mother’s.” Ruhn blinked. Slowly. Hypaxia could raise and speak to the dead. All right. He could live with that. “Cool.” Flames danced along his father’s hair, dancing over his shoulders. “Her older sister, however, was sired by a shape-shifting male. A stag.” “So?” Cormac snorted. “Hypaxia’s half sister is better known as the Hind.” Ruhn gaped at him. How had he not known this? “She didn’t inherit any witch gifts,” Cormac continued, “and was handed over to her father’s kin. The crown naturally went to Hypaxia. But it seems that since your bride has been crowned queen, the question of her necromancy has become … an issue for the witches.

Jesiba chuckled again. “I worried, you know, when I learned you were Starborn. I’ve watched many succumb to the allure of being the Chosen One. Perhaps you and your brother have more in common than I realized.” “I think that’s a compliment?” “It is. Ruhn Danaan is one of the few who’s ever been strong enough to shun what he is.” Bryce grunted. “You don’t plan on doing anything with it, then,” Jesiba asked, more quietly than Bryce had ever heard. “Your talent. Or the Horn.” “Definitely not the Horn. And it seems most of the Starborn power’s value lies in what I can breed into the Fae bloodline.” Bryce straightened, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “And what good does blinding people do? I mean, it does have its uses, but surely there are deadlier weapons to wield?” Like Hunt’s lightning.