It took Bryce hours to stop shaking. To chase that cold, deadly wind from her skin. To stop hearing the whispering of her death, the death of all things.
She’d never encountered anything like that mask. Nesta had seemed at its mercy, brought back to herself only by Azriel’s list of whoever those people were—clearly people Nesta cared about.
Through love, all is possible. Even getting free of death-masks.
Nesta didn’t speak, staying close beside Azriel. Or maybe he was the one staying close to her. The male didn’t seem to want her farther away than he could grab.
Eventually, Bryce could stand it no longer. “I’m sorry,” she said.
At their silence, she twisted to look back at them. They wore twin expressions of ice.
“I’m … I’m really fucking sorry,” Bryce said, heart thundering.
“You’re proving,” Nesta said tightly, “to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Then why not just kill me?” Bryce snapped.
“Because whatever you think you’ll find at the end of these tunnels,” Azriel said with lethal quiet, “whatever warrants the effort of trying to kill us … that has to be something worth seeing.”
“You could leave me here and go ahead yourselves.” She probably shouldn’t have suggested that. Too late now.
“That star on your chest suggests otherwise,” Nesta said, and left Azriel’s side at last to head into the dark. “We’ve put this much effort into seeing what you’ll do. Might as well see it through.”
“Effort?” But even as she spoke, Bryce understood. “You knew I’d go through the grate.”
“Rhysand guessed, yes—and you made him smug as hell when you winnowed. Granted, he was surprised that you could winnow at all, but … the bastard sent us after you.” Nesta spoke without turning around, striding with that unfaltering confidence into the gloom. “He had us make sure there was only one path forward. Make sure you believed there was only one path forward, too. So you’d show your hand—show us what you truly wanted here.”
“You caused the cave-in.”
Nesta shrugged. “Azriel caused it. But yes.”
“Why—why do any of this? Why do you care?”
Nesta was quiet for a beat. Azriel didn’t say a word, a wall of silent menace at her back. Then Nesta said, “Because I’ve seen that star on your chest before.”
“Yeah, you said that,” Bryce said. “Your tattoo—”
“Not my tattoo.”
“Then where?” Bryce breathed. If she could get answers—
But Nesta strode ahead again into the darkness. “No place good.”
After another fitful rest, Azriel and Nesta were both still clearly pissed at Bryce. Rightly so, but wasn’t she allowed to be pissed, too? They’d manipulated her every step of the way, watching her like some animal in a zoo, making her think she’d caused that cave-in when they’d engineered it themselves …
She shot Azriel a sidelong glare as they walked through the tunnel. He gave her a cool look in return.
Behind him, the carvings continued, showing Fae frolicking over hills and thriving in ancient-looking walled cities. A scene of growth and change. But Azriel’s eyes slid ahead—and he nodded at where Nesta had stopped.
“We have a problem,” Nesta murmured as they stepped up to her side.
A chasm stretched before them, Bryce’s starlight glowing in a single ray straight across it. Bryce swallowed.
Yeah, they really fucking did.
Ruhn managed to keep his food down, and that was about all he could say for himself as he lay on the filthy, reeking floor and slept.
Maybe it was because he hadn’t managed to truly sleep in days. Maybe it was because Athalar had asked him to do it, and he knew, deep down, that he needed to grow the fuck up. But here he was. On a familiar-looking mental bridge. Staring at a burning female figure.
Ruhn? Lidia’s voice caught. What happened?
“I need to pass along intel.” Each word was cold and clipped.
The flame around Lidia banked until it was nothing but her flowing golden hair, and it killed him. She was so fucking beautiful. It wouldn’t have mattered to him, hadn’t mattered to him during those weeks they’d gotten to know each other, but …
She kept ten feet away. He hadn’t bothered with his stars and night. He didn’t care.
“Bryce … was trying to go to Hel to ask for help. She didn’t make it there.”
Lidia’s face was impassive. “How can you possibly know this?”
“The Prince of the Pit paid Hunt a visit. He confirmed that Bryce isn’t with him—or his brothers.”
To her credit, Lidia didn’t balk at the mention of Apollion—she didn’t even question why Hunt was in contact with him. “Where did she go?”
“We don’t know. The plan was for her to head there to raise their armies and bring them back, but if she’s not there, we’re shit out of luck.”
“Was there … was there a chance that Hel might have actually allied with you?” Disbelief laced every word.
“Yeah. There still is.”
He clenched his jaw. “We weren’t sure if you or Command had any suspicions about where Bryce went, or if you were hoping she’d carry out some sort of miracle when she got back here. But we figured you should know that doesn’t seem like an option.”
Lidia swore. She looked at her hands, as if she could see whatever plans Ophion might have had crumbling away. “We weren’t counting on any assistance from your sister or Hel, but I’ll pass along the warning nonetheless.” Her eyes churned with worry. “Is she …”
Trust Day to get right to the heart of the matter.
“I don’t know.” His flat tone conveyed everything.
She angled her head, and he knew her well enough to know she was considering all he’d told her. The Oracle’s warning.
But Lidia said, “She’s not dead.” Nothing but pure confidence filled her words.
“Oh yeah?” He couldn’t keep his snide tone in check. “What makes you so sure?”
She took his nastiness in stride. “Rigelus has his mystics hunting for her. He wants her found.”
“He doesn’t know what I know.”
“No—he knows more than you. He wouldn’t waste the effort if he believed Bryce was dead. Or in Hel. He knows she’s somewhere else.”
Ruhn ignored the kernel of hope in his chest. “So what does it mean, then?”
“It means he thinks Bryce’s location might make some difference.” She crossed her arms. “It means wherever he suspects she might be … it has him worried.”
“I don’t see how it could make any difference.”
“Then you underestimate your sister.”
“Fuck you,” he snapped.
“Rigelus isn’t underestimating Bryce for one moment,” she went on, tone sharpening. “One thousand mystics, Ruhn—all looking for her. Do you know how many tasks he usually has them doing? But they are all focused on finding her. That tells me he’s very, very scared.”
Ruhn swallowed hard. “What would happen if his mystics found her location?”
Lidia shook her head, flames twining through the strands. “I don’t know. But he must have some plan in mind.”
Ruhn asked, “Why can’t they find her? I thought his mystics could find anything.”
“The universe is vast. Even a thousand mystics need some time to comb every galaxy and star system.”
“How much time?”
Her eyes simmered. “Not as much as Bryce likely needs—if she is indeed trying to do the impossible.”
“Which is what?”
“Find help.”
It was about as much as Ruhn could take. He turned back toward his end of the bridge. “Ruhn.”
He halted, shuddering at the way she spoke his name, the memory of how it had felt to hear it the first time, after the equinox ball, when she’d learned who he was.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She knew who he was … and he knew who she was. Knew that while she might be Agent Daybright, she’d been the Hind for decades before she’d decided to turn rebel. Had committed plenty of despicable acts for Sandriel and the Asteri long before she’d killed the Harpy to save his life. Did changing sides erase the stain?
She said quietly, “I’m doing what I can to help you.”
Ruhn looked over a shoulder. She’d wrapped her arms around her middle. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing. I’m only here because other people’s lives might depend on it.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes, and it was kindling to his temper. How dare she look that way, look like she was hurt, when it was his fucking heart—
“You’re dead to me,” Ruhn hissed, and vanished.
