She laughed, the sound like clear bells. Something male and primal in him sat up at the sound. “I’ve only ever had wine.”
He started. “That’s not possible.”
“Beer wasn’t deemed appropriate for a female of my position. I did have a sip once I was old enough to … not answer to my family, but I found it wasn’t to my liking anyway.”
He shook his head in mock horror. “Come visit me in Lunathion sometime, Day. I’ll show you a good time.”
“Given who is present in your city, I think I’ll decline.”
He frowned. Right.
She seemed to remember, too. And why they were here. “Is it confirmed where the rebels are making the strike on the Spine shipment?”
“Not sure. I’m the go-between, remember?”
“You told them what I said about the Asteri’s new mech-suit prototype?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t forget that it’s the most valuable thing on that train. Leave the rest.”
“Why not blow up the entire Spine and break their supply lines?”
Her fire sizzled. “We’ve tried multiple times. With each attempt, we’ve been thwarted. Either by betrayal or things simply going wrong. An attack like that requires a lot of people, and a lot of secrecy and precision. Do you know how to make explosives?”
“No. But there’s always magic to do that.”
“Remember that the rebellion is mostly humans, and their Vanir allies like to remain hidden. We are dependent on human resourcefulness and abilities. Simply compiling enough explosives to enact a serious hit on the Spine takes a great deal of effort. Especially considering the great losses Ophion has taken to its numbers lately. They’re on the ropes.” She added, oozing disgust, “This isn’t a video game.”
Ruhn growled. “I’m aware of that.”
Her flame banked a fraction. “You’re right. I spoke out of turn.”
“You can just say ‘I’m sorry.’ No need for the fancy talk.”
Another soft laugh. “Bad habit.”
He saluted her. “Well, until next time, Day.”
He half hoped she’d counter with something to keep them talking, keep him here.
But Day and her couch faded into embers drifting on a phantom wind. “Goodbye, Night.”
Ithan Holstrom had never been inside a full-fledged Fae’s house. There’d only been two Fae males on his CCU sunball team, and both were from cities across the territory, so he’d never had the chance to go to their homes and meet their families.
But Prince Ruhn’s house was cool. It reminded him of the apartment Connor and Bronson and Thorne once had—a few blocks from here, actually: crappy old furniture, stained walls with posters of sports teams taped on them, an overly large TV, and a fully stocked bar.
He hadn’t minded crashing on the couch last night. Would have slept on the porch, if it meant being far away from where Bryce and Hunt slept together.
The clock beneath the TV read seven in the morning when Ithan rose and showered. He helped himself to Tristan Flynn’s array of fancy shampoos and body products, all marked 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 had snickered, even as his heart squeezed. He’d had that kind of dynamic once with his brother.
His brother, who was either already turned into secondlight—or on his way there.
The thought had any rising interest in breakfast melting into nausea. By the time Ithan had dressed and gone downstairs—the three Fae males who lived in the house were still asleep—he’d raised his phone to his ear.
Hey, this is Tharion, if you can’t get me, send an otter.
All right, then.
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. Ithan parked his ass on a bench beside the Istros and stared across the river.
He’d wanted to fight Sabine last night. Had actually contemplated how her blood would taste when he ripped out her throat with his teeth, but … the Helhound’s words lingered.
Connor had been an Alpha who’d accepted the role of Second because he’d believed in Danika’s potential. Ithan had fallen in with Amelie’s pack because he’d had nowhere else to go.