It screamed, the sound as piercing as a hawk’s cry. The others keened in horror and rage.
The Starsword sang with light, her power flowing into it. Activating it. And nothing had ever felt so right, so easy, as plunging the blade into the bony chest of the wounded Reaper. It arced, bellowing, black blood spurting from its withered lips.
The others screamed then. So loud she thought the sewer might come down, so loud she nearly dropped the blade to cover her ears.
The Reapers surged, but Cormac appeared before her in a plume of shadows. He grabbed her around the middle, nearly tackling her, and they were gone.
Wind roared and the world spun out from beneath her, but—
They landed inside the Aux training center. Ruhn was coughing on the floor beside her, the polished pine scrubbed clean except where the three of them dripped sewer water.
“You can fucking teleport?” Bryce gasped out, twisting to where Cormac stood.
But Cormac’s gaze was on the Starsword, his face ashen. Bryce peered at the blade she clenched in a white-knuckled grip. As if her hand refused to let go.
With shaking fingers, she put it back into its sheath. Dimmed its light. But the Starsword still sang, and Bryce had no idea what to make of it.
Of the blade that had slain that which was unkillable.
PART II
THE ABYSS
25
Tharion warily watched the two sobeks lounging at his queen’s feet, their scaly, powerful bodies draped over the dais steps. With their shut eyes, only the bubbles drifting from their long snouts revealed they lived—and were capable of snapping his arm off in one swift bite.
The River Queen’s throne had been carved into a towering mountain of river corals rising from the rocky floor. Lunathion lay close enough to the coast that the water in this part of the Istros had plenty of salt to support the vibrant corals, as well as the bouquets of anemones, waving lace sea fans, and the occasional rainbow ribbons of iris eels all adorning the mount around and above her. He had a feeling her magic had also created a good chunk of it.
Tail pumping against the strong current that flowed past, Tharion bowed his head. “Your Majesty.” At this point, the effort against the current was second nature, but he knew she’d selected this location for her throne so that any person appearing before her would be a bit off-kilter—and perhaps less guarded as a result. “You summoned me?”
“It has come to my attention,” his queen said, her dark hair drifting above her, “that you asked my daughter on a date.”
Tharion focused on keeping his tail moving, holding him in place. “Yes. I thought she’d enjoy it.”
“You asked her on a date Above. Above!”
Tharion lifted his chin, hands clasped behind his back. A subservient, vulnerable position that he knew his queen preferred, exposing the entirety of his chest to her. His heart lay in range of the jagged sea-glass knife resting on the arm of her throne, or the beasts drowsing at her feet. She had the power to destroy him in an instant, but he knew she liked the feel of the kill.
He’d never understood it, until he’d found his sister’s murderer and opted to tear the panther shifter apart with his bare hands.
“I only meant to please her,” Tharion said.
But the River Queen’s fingers dug into the carved arms of her throne. “You know how overwhelmed she becomes. She is too fragile for such things.”
Tharion sucked in a deep breath through his gills. Exhaled it before saying, “She handled herself well at the Summit.” A half-lie. She’d done absolutely nothing of value at the Summit, but at least she hadn’t been cowering the whole time.
Anemones shrank into themselves, a swift warning of his queen’s ire before she said, “That was in an organized, guarded place. Lunathion is a wild forest of distraction and pleasure. It will devour her whole.” The iris eels sensed her tone and darted into the cracks and crevices around the throne.
“I apologize for any distress the suggestion caused you or her.” He didn’t dare so much as curl his fingers into a fist.
The queen studied him with the concentration of one of the sobeks at her feet, when the beasts were poised to strike. “What of your progress with the Renast boy?”
“I have good reason to believe he’s just arrived in this city. I have my people looking for him.” They hadn’t found any new bodies today—for better or worse. He could only pray it didn’t mean Pippa Spetsos had gotten her hands on the boy.
“I want that boy at the Blue Court the moment he’s found.”