Ruhn Danaan 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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'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.

Ruhn Danaan knew three things with absolute certainty:

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.

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.

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?

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae,

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.

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.

—Nos peleamos en una fiesta. Danaan todavía está resentido. La sonrisa de Bryce era la definición de una sonrisa de satisfacción. —¿Por qué pelearon? Ruhn dijo con brusquedad: —Porque él es un pendejo arrogante. —Igual—dijo Hunt y su boca se curvó para formar una media sonrisa. Bryce miró a Lehabah. —Los chicos y su competitividad. Lehabah emitió un sonidito muy propio. —Ni de cerca tan avanzados como nosotras. Ruhn puso los ojos en blanco y se sorprendió de ver que Athalar hacía lo mismo.

A dark-haired Fae male burst through the interrogation room door. Even with a silver hoop through his lower lip, even with one side of his long raven-black hair buzzed, even with the sleeves of tattoos beneath the leather jacket, there was no disguising the heritage the strikingly handsome face broadcasted. 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.

Neither Bryce Quinlan nor Ruhn Danaan has the right to call themselves my children any longer.

Did you figure out what kind of demon did it?' 'Something that eats little princes for breakfast,' Hunt crooned.

Your cousin is dreamy,' Lehabah sighed from her couch. 'I thought Athalar was your own true love,' Bryce said. 'Can't they both be?' 'Considering how terrible they are at sharing, I don't think it'll end well for any of you.

You smell like trash.' 'Thanks. It's a new cologne I'm trying out.

I'm here,' he said. 'We made it.' She trembled harder, as if all that she had experienced and done were now breaking free in aftershocks. 'I'm here,' he said again, and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. 'I'm here.' He kissed below her ear. Her hands came up caressing a line down his back. She stopped shaking. 'I'm here,' he said, kissing the base of her throat.

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The sword's as much yours as it is mine.' Bryce waved a hand. 'I'll take it on weekends and holidays, don't worry.' Hunt tossed in. 'And it'll get two Winter Solstices, so... double the presents.

In a world full of enemies, you're my only friend.' 'Well, maybe I should give you friendship lessons, because you fucking blow at it.

Lesson one, don't shit on your friends when you have a bad day.' 'Right.' 'Lesson two. Your true friends won't mind when you do, so long as you own up to it and apologise. Usually in the form of buying them a beer.' Another laugh, softer this time. 'I'll buy you a beer, then.

I'm really glad you're my sister,' Ruhn said.

Bryce lifted her chin, though she remained sitting on the ground. “Are Ruhn and Hunt still alive?” Something like distaste flashed in the Autumn King’s eyes. As if such mortal bonds should be the least of her concerns. “You show your hand, Bryce Quinlan.” “I thought my name was Bryce Danaan now,” she seethed. “To the detriment of the line, yes,” the Autumn King said, his eyes sparking. “Where have you been?” “There was a sample sale at the mall,” Bryce said flatly.

Next time I'll bring us some psychic beers and a TV. We'll get you normal again.

I'd be a monster not to care whether another person is hurt.

Bryce lifted her chin, though she remained sitting on the ground. “Are Ruhn and Hunt still alive?” Something like distaste flashed in the Autumn King’s eyes. As if such mortal bonds should be the least of her concerns. “You show your hand, Bryce Quinlan.” “I thought my name was Bryce Danaan now,” she seethed. “To the detriment of the line, yes,” the Autumn King said, his eyes sparking. “Where have you been?” “There was a sample sale at the mall,” Bryce said flatly. “Are Ruhn and Hunt still alive?” The Autumn King’s head angled, gaze sweeping over her filthy T-shirt, her torn leggings. “I was informed that you were no longer on this planet. Where did you go?” Bryce declined to answer. Her father smiled slightly. “I can connect the dots. You arrive from off-world, bearing a knife that matches the Starsword. The dagger from the prophecy, no?” His eyes gleamed with greed. “Not seen since the First Wars. If I were to guess, you managed to reach a place I have long desired to go.” He glanced up at the orrery. “You might want to reconsider before packing your bags,” Bryce said. “They don’t take kindly to assholes.” “Your journey hasn’t impacted that smart mouth of yours, I see.” She smiled with saccharine sweetness. “You’re still an absolute bastard, I see.

Are you…What do you plan to do?” It was a loaded question, but Ruhn answered, “I’ll help her. I’ll head up the Aux with Holstrom, I guess. Since the Fae throne’s gone as of this morning.” It had been a wonder to behold—Bryce standing in front of the crowd of cameras and nobles, ending the monarchies with the stroke of a pen. Their father’s favorite pen, no less. Ruhn had never been so proud to be Bryce’s brother. He smiled slightly. “The Oracle was right in a lot of ways, I guess.” Lidia lifted a brow. “It wasn’t just that the crown would go to Bryce, but that’d she’d end it. The Danaan royal line is finished.” Lidia clicked her tongue. “You’re not dead or childless, after all.” “Not yet,” Ruhn said, laughing again. All that time spent dreading the prophecy, worrying over his fate… Lidia looked at him, in the way that no one else on Midgard did—like she saw him. “Are you prepared to not be a prince anymore, though? To be…normal?” “I think so,” he said, nudging her knee with his own. “Are you?” “I have no idea. I don’t even know what normal is,” Lidia admitted. Ruhn took her hand, linking their fingers. “How about we figure it out together, then?” “How to be normal?” “How to live a normal life. The normal, adult apartment’s a good start. For both of us.” But wariness flooded her eyes. “My life is complicated.” “Whoever said normal isn’t complicated?” he countered. “All I know is that whatever tomorrow or next year or the next millennium has in store for this world, I want to face it at your side.” They weren’t the Hind and a Crown Prince of the Fae. Weren’t Day and Night. Right then, there, they were simply Lidia and Ruhn. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ruhn asked, "Why the fuck where you standing on the Black Dock after sundown?" "I was kneeling," she muttered. "Same fucking question." She met her brother's gaze as her wounds healed shut. "I needed a breather." Flynn crossed his arms. "I said I've known that you're a princess for all of an hour and you're already a pain in my ass." "I am not a princess," she said at the same moment Ruhn snapped, "She's not a princess.

Bryce slowed her retreat as she winced in pain, “And the apartment building? I thought it was Hunt, but it wasn’t, was it? It was you.” “Yes. Your landlord’s request went to all of my triarii. And to me. I knew Danika had left nothing there. But by that time, Bryce Quinlan, I was enjoying watching you squirm. I knew Athalar’s plan to acquire the synth would soon be exposed—and I took a guess that you’d be willing to believe the worst of him. That he’d used the lightning in his veins to endanger innocent people. He’s a killer. I thought you might need a reminder. That it played into Athalar’s guilt was an unexpected boon.” Hunt ignored the eyes that glanced his way. The fucking asshole had never planned to honor his bargain. If he’d solved the case, Micah would have killed him. Killed them both. He’d been played like a fucking fool. Bryce asked, voice raw, “When did you start to think it was me?” “That night it attacked Athalar in the garden. I realized only later that he’d probably come into contact with one of Danika’s personal items, which must have come into contact with the Horn.” Hunt had touched Danika’s leather jacket that day. Gotten its scent on him. “Once I got Athalar off the streets, I summoned the kristallos again—and it went right to you. The only thing that had changed was that you finally, finally took that amulet off. And then …” He chuckled. “I looked at Hunt Athalar’s photos of your time together. Including that one of your back. The tattoo you had inked there, days before Danika’s death, according to the list of Danika’s last locations Ruhn Danaan sent to you and Athalar—whose account is easily accessible to me.” Bryce’s fingers curled into the carpet, as if she’d sprout claws. “How do you know the Horn will even work now that it’s in my back?” “The Horn’s physical shape doesn’t matter. Whether it is fashioned as a horn or a necklace or a powder mixed with witch-ink, its power remains.” Hunt silently swore. He and Bryce had never visited the tattoo parlor. Bryce had said she knew why Danika was there. Micah went on, “Danika knew the Archesian amulet would hide you from any detection, magical or demonic. With that amulet, you were invisible to the kristallos, bred to hunt the Horn. I suspect she knew that Jesiba Roga has similar enchantments upon this gallery, and perhaps Danika placed some upon your apartments—your old one and the one she left to you—to make sure you would be even more veiled from it.

You want me to stay?' 'Honestly? Yeah. I do.' 'Why?' 'Because I feel calm around you. There's so much shit going down, and I... I like being here. With you.' 'I don't think most females would be flattered to be called 'calming' by a handsome male.' 'Who says I'm handsome?' 'You talk like someone who's well aware of his good looks.' 'Like an arrogant asshole, then.' 'Your words, not mine.

What could be worse than what the other two are enduring? A long, horrible pause. A lot of things, Ruhn Danaan.