Morven paled. Even his shadows receded. “What is that in your left hand?” Even the Murder Twins and Sathia had their eyes trained on her, as if they couldn’t look away.
“Some major prophecy fulfillment,” Bryce said, hoping to Hel she was hiding the tremble in her arms from keeping the black blades steady, from ignoring that instinct murmuring to her to bring them together, not keep them apart.
“Where did you get that knife?” Morven hissed.
“So you know what it is, then?” Bryce said.
“Yes,” he seethed. “I can feel its power.”
“Well, that makes it easier,” Bryce said. She sheathed both weapons. Mercifully, the pulling eased with the action. “Less explaining for me.” She nodded to Morven, and he glowered. “I’ll be in and out of here before you know it.”
His shadows returned, darkening the air behind his antler-throne until it seemed Morven sat before a void. “Females are forbidden in both the Avallen Archives and the Cave of Princes.”
“I don’t really care,” Bryce said.
“You spit on our sacred traditions.”
“Get over it.”
Morven’s nostrils flared. “I’ll remind you, girl, that one word from me and the Asteri will have you in their grasp.”
“You’d have to open the mists to them first,” Bryce countered. “And it seems like you’ve worked really hard not to do that—or give them a reason to come here at all.”
“You can be removed by guards.”
Bryce gestured to Hunt, then Baxian, then the others. “My own guards might make that difficult.”
“This is my kingdom—”
“I’m not challenging that. I just want to look through your archives. A few days, then we’ll all be out of your hair.” She pulled the Autumn King’s notebook from her jacket. “I’ll even sweeten the deal: Here’s my sire’s private journal. Well, his most current one. All his recent scheming, written down. It’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. Dear Diary, today I made a list of all my enemies and how I plan to kill them. It’s so hard being king—I wish I had a friend!”
She grinned as Morven’s eyes narrowed on the leather-bound notebook, and she flashed him the first page, where her father’s distinctive handwriting was visible. He’d know it well, as the two old losers communicated mostly through written letters, since Avallen had no computers. “You let us stay here and it’s yours when we leave.”
Morven’s fingers drummed on the arm of his throne. Fish on a line.
But he said, shadows lightening at last, “Your presence here threatens to bring the Asteri’s wrath upon me.”
Bryce considered, blinking. “Well, it seems you’ve got no problem harboring fugitives, if you’re letting in Flynn’s parents.”
He glared, pure darkness in his eyes.
Bryce went on, “I mean, you could probably make up for Cormac’s dishonor by selling us out to the Asteri … but if you hand us over, you’d have to turn in Flynn’s parents and the other nobles, too. And I doubt it’d win you any points with your own people if you betrayed some fancy-ass nobles.” She crossed her arms. “You’re in a real pickle, huh?”
Morven tapped his booted foot on the ground.
“It’s super hard,” Bryce commiserated, “to try to play both sides, isn’t it?”
“I am not playing either side,” Morven said. “I am loyal to the Asteri.”
“Then open the mists—invite them here. Let’s have them over for brunch.”
Morven’s silence was damning.
Bryce smiled. “I thought so.” She nodded to Sathia. “One more thing: she doesn’t marry anyone, and she comes with us.”
Sathia gaped at Bryce. But Bryce threw the Fae female a warning look. Bryce had only seen Sathia Flynn from a distance at parties. Usually, the female’s hair was dyed varying shades of shining dark brown or blond. Now her locks were an ordinary light brown—her natural color, perhaps. It was like seeing a glimpse of the real female beneath.
“I cannot allow that,” Morven said. “She is an unwed female.”
“Her brother is here,” Bryce said, nodding to Flynn. “Irresponsible party boy that he is, at least he has the parts that matter to you.”
Flynn glared, but Dec elbowed him hard enough that he stepped up and said, “I’ll, uh, take responsibility for Sathia.”