Day turned over, and through the flame, he glimpsed a hint of long hair draped over the arm of the couch—
He backed away a step. But somehow she heard, and shot upright. Flame erupted around her as Ruhn retreated to his own couch. “What were you doing?”
Ruhn shook his head. “I … I wanted to know how the story ended. I fell asleep as the witch was pierced with an arrow.”
Day jumped up from her couch, walking around it—putting it between them. Like he’d crossed some major line.
But she said, “The forest turned the witch into a monster before she hit the earth. A beast of claws and fangs and bloodlust. She ripped the prince and hounds who pursued her into shreds.”
“And that’s it?” Ruhn demanded.
“That’s it,” Day said, and walked into the darkness, leaving only embers drifting behind.
PART III
THE PIT
48
Ruhn paced in front of Bryce’s TV, his phone at his ear. The tattoos on his forearms shifted as he clenched the phone tight. But his voice was calm, heavy, as he said, “All right, thanks for looking, Dec.”
Bryce watched Ruhn’s face as her brother hung up, and knew exactly what he was going to say. “No luck?”
Ruhn slumped back against her couch cushions. “No. What we saw on Sofie’s arm doesn’t come up anywhere.”
Bryce nestled into Hunt on the other end of the couch while the angel talked to Isaiah on the phone. Upon arriving back in Lunathion courtesy of a few Blue Court wave skimmers, Tharion had gone Beneath to see his queen. It was unlikely that the River Queen would know what the numbers and letters carved onto Sofie’s biceps meant, but it was worth a shot.
Cormac had found thirty messages from his father waiting for him, asking after his whereabouts, so he’d gone off to the Autumn King’s villa to convince the male—and therefore his father—that he’d been accompanying Bryce to Nidaros.
Bryce supposed she should clue her parents in about the official cover story, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She needed to settle—calm her racing mind—a bit first.
Frankly, it was a miracle the Hind and her dreadwolves hadn’t been waiting at the apartment. That the news wasn’t broadcasting all of their faces with a REBEL TRAITORS banner slapped beneath it. But a skim of the news while Ruhn had talked to Dec showed nothing.
So she’d spent the last few minutes trying hard to teleport from the couch to the kitchen.
Nothing. How had she done it during sex? She wasn’t due for her lesson with Ruhn and Cormac until tomorrow, but she wanted to show up with some idea.
Bryce concentrated on the kitchen stools. I am here. I want to go there. Her magic didn’t so much as budge. Two points in space. I’m folding a piece of paper, joining them. My power is the pencil that punctures through the paper, linking them—
Hunt said, “Yeah. Ember grilled me, but we’re good. We had a nice time.” He winked at Bryce, even though the casual gesture didn’t quite light his eyes. “All right. I’ll see you at the meeting later.” Hunt hung up the phone and sighed. “Unless they’ve got a dagger digging into his back, it seems like Isaiah has no clue about what went down at Ydra. Or that the Hind saw any of us.”
“What game is she playing?” Ruhn said, toying with his lip ring. “You really think Isaiah wasn’t playing it cool to lure you to the Comitium later?”
“If they wanted to arrest us, they’d have been waiting for us,” Hunt said. “The Hind is keeping this to herself.”
“But why?” Bryce asked, frowning deeply. “To mess with our minds?”
“Honestly?” Hunt said. “That’s a distinct possibility. But if you ask me, I think she knows we’re … up to something. I think she wants to see what we do next.”
Bryce considered. “We’ve been so focused on Emile and Ophion and the demons that we’ve forgotten one key thing: Sofie died knowing vital intel. The Hind knew that—was afraid enough of it that she killed her to make sure the intel died with Sofie. And if it didn’t take much for Tharion to piece together that Sofie and Danika knew each other and come to us, I bet the Hind has figured that out, too. She has hackers who could have found the same emails between them.”
Hunt’s wing brushed her shoulder, curving around her. “But how does it even tie to Danika? Sofie didn’t get the intel until two years after Danika died.”
“No idea,” Bryce said, leaning her head against Hunt’s shoulder. A casual, steadying sort of intimacy.