“Why?”
“Because they’re more comfortable with a half-shifter than a half-necromancer. They fear the influence of the House of Flame and Shadow, though I have sworn no vows to any but Earth and Blood. But Lidia is Earth and Blood, through and through. Exactly as they are. They loved my mother, I have no doubt, but they have different plans for the future than she did. That became apparent by the end.”
“What sort of plans?”
“A closer bond with the Asteri. Even at the cost of our relative autonomy.”
“Ah.” That was a potential minefield. Especially considering the shit that he was doing for Ophion. Or had been doing for them—he had no idea where they stood now, after Ydra.
Hypaxia went on, “Your kindness is why I’ve come here. I know you to be a male of bravery and dedication. While I’m in this city for the Governors’ celebration, especially with Lidia in town, I fear my mother’s coven might make a move. They presented a unified front with me at the Summit, but the last few months have been strained.”
“And since we’re technically engaged, it won’t be seen as a declaration of your distrust if I send one of my people to look after you. It’ll be deemed some protective male bullshit.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes. Something like that.”
“All right. No problem.”
She swallowed, bowing her head. “Thank you.”
He dared to touch her hand, her skin velvety smooth. “We’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.”
She patted his hand in a Thanks, friend sort of way.
Ruhn cleared his throat, glancing at the ceiling—the distinctive, worrisome thumping coming from it. “Since you were raised by ghosts, I’m hoping you won’t mind having a bit of an unorthodox guard.”
Her brows rose.
Ruhn smiled. “How do you feel about sunball players?”
No one bothered them, but plenty of people stared as Tharion and Hunt meandered through the ornate water garden along the river in Moonwood, a hundred rainbows glimmering in the mists around them. Tharion loved this part of the city—though the Old Square’s grit still called to him.
“So what’s up?” Tharion said as Athalar paused beneath a towering elm, its leaves shimmering in the spray from a massive fountain of Ogenas lounging in an oyster shell.
The angel pulled his phone from a hidden pocket in his battle-suit. “I had a meeting with the Governor.” His fingers flew over the phone, presumably summoning whatever the information was. He handed it to Tharion. “She had me go over some of the latest demon reports from Nena. I wanted to pass them along to the Blue Court.”
Tharion took the phone and scrolled through the photos. “Anything interesting?”
“That one. The tail—just out of the shot here.” Hunt pointed to the picture, face stony. “It’s a deathstalker.”
Even the burbling fountain beyond them seemed to quiet at the name.
“What’s that?”
“Lethal assassins bred by the Prince of the Pit. He keeps them as pets.” Athalar’s wings rustled. Had a shadow passed over the sun? “I’ve only dealt with them once. I’ve got a scar down my back from it.”
If the encounter had left Athalar scarred … Cthona spare them all. “One was in Nena?”
“Three days ago.”
“Shit. Where did it go?”
“No idea. Report says there’s been no breach of Nena’s borders. Tell your people to be alert. Warn your queen, too.”
“I will.” Tharion glanced sidelong at the angel. Noticed that they weren’t near cameras or other people. “Any further updates?” Tharion asked carefully.
“Maybe,” Hunt said.
“I thought so,” Tharion said. The warning about the demons seemed true—but also a convenient cover.
“I know where Emile is,” Athalar said quietly.
Tharion nearly stumbled a step. “Where?”
“Can’t say. But he’s safe.” Athalar remained grave despite the beauty of Moonwood around them. “Call off your search. Spin some bullshit to your queen. But you’re done hunting for that kid.”
Tharion surveyed the angel, the mist beading on the gray wings. “And you think it’s wise to tell me that you know where he is?”
Hunt bared his teeth in a feral smile. “You going to torture it out of me, Ketos?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
Lightning licked across Hunt’s forehead as he motioned to the fountains, the water all around. “Not the best place for a lightning fight.”