Bryce frowned. “Why?”
Ruhn paced a step. “You’d be the perfect cover story. She was walking beside someone Hel has a score to settle with—someone who’d pissed Hel off this spring. Deathstalkers imply the Prince of the Pit’s involvement. If she’d died, all eyes would be on Hel. Everyone would think they’d targeted you, and she’d be the unfortunate additional loss.”
“What about Ithan, though?”
Hunt picked up Ruhn’s thread. “Also collateral. After this spring, I doubt Sabine would be stupid enough to summon a demon. That leaves our enemies or Hypaxia’s. But given what Apollion threatened … I’d say odds are it was him. Maybe he was willing to take the risk that you’d die during his little test—maybe he supposed that if you died, you wouldn’t be worthy of battling him anyway.”
Bryce rubbed her face. “So where does that leave us?”
Hunt interlaced their fingers. “It leaves us with the realization that this city needs to be on high alert and you need to be armed at all times.”
She glared. “That’s not helpful.”
Ruhn, wisely, kept his mouth shut.
“You didn’t have any weapons tonight,” Hunt snarled. “You two had one knife between you. You were lucky Ithan carried that gun. And you were even luckier in your guess that Hypaxia could charge up your ability to teleport.”
Ruhn grunted his agreement.
“So that’s how you did it,” Declan said, walking back into the hall. The warrior shut the door behind him, giving Hypaxia and Ithan privacy.
Bryce sketched a bow. “It’ll be my special solo act during the school talent show.”
Declan snorted, but Ruhn was assessing her. “You really teleported?”
Bryce explained everything again, and Hunt couldn’t keep himself from tugging her closer. When she finished, Ruhn echoed Hunt’s words. “We got lucky tonight. You got lucky tonight.”
Bryce winked at Hunt. “And I plan to get lucky again.”
“Gross,” Ruhn said as Declan snickered.
Hunt flicked Bryce’s nose and said to Ruhn, “Let’s set up watches around the apartment and this embassy—assign your most trusted soldiers. I’ll get Isaiah and Naomi on it, too.”
“The 33rd and the Aux teaming up to guard little old me?” Bryce crooned. “I’m flattered.”
“This is not the time to debate alphahole politics,” Hunt ground out. “Those were fucking deathstalkers.”
“And I dealt with them.”
“I wouldn’t be so dismissive,” he growled. “The Prince of the Pit will send hordes of them through the Northern Rift if he ever gets it fully open, rather than shoving one or two through at a time for fun. They hunt down whoever they’re ordered to stalk. They’re assassins. You get marked by them for execution, and you are dead.”
She blew on her fingers, as if chasing off dust. “All in a day’s work for me, then.”
“Quinlan—”
Ruhn started laughing.
“What?” Hunt demanded.
Ruhn said, “You know who I was talking to before I got your call? My father.” Bryce went still, and Hunt knew it was bad. Ruhn grinned at him. “Your father in-law.”
“Excuse me?”
Ruhn didn’t stop grinning. “He told me the wonderful news.” He winked at Bryce. “You must be so happy.”
Bryce groaned and turned to Hunt. “It’s not official—”
“Oh, it’s official,” Ruhn said, leaning against the wall beside the door.
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Hunt growled.
Ruhn smirked at Hunt. “She’s been bandying about the royal name, apparently. Which means she’s accepted her position as princess. And as you’re her mate, that makes you son-in-law to the Autumn King. And my brother.”
Hunt gaped at him. Ruhn was completely serious.
Bryce blurted, “Did you ask him about Cormac? The Autumn King insists the engagement is still on.”
Ruhn’s amusement faded. “I don’t see how it could be.”
“I’m sorry,” Hunt cut in, “but what the fuck?” His wings splayed. “You’re now officially a princess?”
Bryce winced. “Surprise?”
56
Ithan groaned, his body giving a collective throb of pain.
His throat—jaws and fangs and claws, the queen and Bryce—
He lunged up, hand at his neck—