“What’s up?” Ruhn asked Ithan, waving his greeting to Hypaxia. Then the prince did a double take. “What the Hel happened to you two? I thought you were summoning Connor.”
The others in the training space halted.
“We did indeed try to summon Connor Holstrom last night,” Hypaxia said gravely.
Bryce paled as she hurried over. “What happened? Is Connor all right? Are you guys all right?”
Ithan’s throat worked. “Ah …”
Hypaxia replied for him, “We did not encounter Connor. The Under-King answered.”
“What happened?” Bryce asked again, voice rising.
Ithan met her stare. Pure predatory wolf gleamed there. “He detained us for his amusement. Sicced Flame and Shadow’s nightmare dogs on us and warded us into an olive grove with them. It took Hypaxia until now to figure out an exit through the wards that wouldn’t get us ripped to shreds. We’re fine, though.” Ruhn whirled with alarm to his fiancée, and the witch-queen nodded solemnly, shadows in her eyes. Ithan scrubbed at his face before he added, “He wants to see you at Urd’s Temple.”
Hunt’s lightning sparked at his fingertips. “Fuck no.”
Ithan swallowed hard. “You don’t have a choice.” He turned, pleading and exhausted, to Bryce. “Connor is safe for right now, but if you don’t show within an hour, the Under-King will throw him and the rest of the Pack of Devils through the Gate immediately. He’ll make secondlight of them all.”
64
Tharion strolled through the Meat Market, casually browsing the stalls. Or at least, he tried to appear casual. While surveying an array of luck stones, he kept an ear open. In the midday bustle, the general assortment of lowlifes had come here for lunch, shopping, or fucking, and at this point, they’d likely have downed at least a few drinks. Which meant loose tongues.
I hear the bitch is already pregnant, one satyr grunted to another as they sat around a barrel converted into a table, smoked kebabs half-eaten in front of them. Ephraim’s been fucking her good.
Tharion pushed aside his disgust at the crude words. He hated that word—bitch. How many times had it been thrown at his sister whenever she’d ventured Above? She’d always laughed it off, and Tharion had laughed it off with her, but now … He shook off the pang of guilt and moved to the next stall, full of various types of mushrooms from the damp forests to the northeast.
He checked his phone—the quick message exchange between him and Pax.
What happened? Are you all right? he’d written nearly an hour ago, after running into her and Holstrom in the hall of the Aux training center. She’d been dirty and tired-looking, and he hadn’t been able to so much as ask if she was okay, because he’d been on the phone with the River Queen. Who had wanted updates on Emile.
Which was why he had come here. To maintain the fiction that he was hunting for the kid. He figured he’d do some listening to the idle chatter while pretending, though. Pick up gossip from the city creeps.
His phone buzzed, and Tharion scanned the message on the screen before loosing a long breath. Hypaxia had written, I’m fine. Just some Flame and Shadow posturing.
He didn’t like that one bit. But what the Hel could he do about any of it?
“Lion’s head is in season,” said the gnome perched on a stool behind the baskets of fungi, drawing Tharion from his thoughts. “Morels finished their run, but I’ve got one last basket left.”
“Only browsing,” Tharion said, flashing a smile at the rosy-cheeked, red-capped male.
“Let me know if you have any questions,” the gnome said, and Tharion again tuned in to the tables behind him.
Fight last night was brutal. There was nothing left of that lion after—
I drank so much I can’t remember who the Hel I was fucking—
—that dragon finished with them. Only embers—
I need more coffee. They should give us the day off after a holiday, you know?
Tharion stilled. Slowly turned, pinpointing the speaker who’d snagged his attention.
Dragon.
Well, that was interesting. And … fortunate.
He’d been lounging on that bench while Legs trained, needing the company of others as a distraction from the shuddering earthquake of nerves after last night. He’d fucked the leopard shifter in the garden shadows. Had enjoyed every second of it, and from her two orgasms, she had, too.
He might have walked away from the River Queen’s daughter last night, but he hadn’t told her that. As far as the River Queen and her daughter knew, and judging by the former’s tone on the phone earlier when she’d called to ask about the hunt for Emile, they were still engaged. But if either of them found out …