Ithan swallowed hard. “Cab’s here.”
* * *
Ithan knew he was Prime of the Valbaran Wolves, but he certainly didn’t feel like it. The whole thing was a joke. He was just … a dude. Granted, one with more power than he’d realized, but now there were people depending on him. He had to make decisions.
At least as sunball captain, he’d had coaches telling him what to do. Now he was coach and captain rolled into one.
And, given how much he’d fucked up lately, how every choice to help Sigrid had only led her toward an absolutely disastrous fate … Gods, he really didn’t feel like Prime at all.
But he tried to at least look like it—back straight, shoulders squared—as he and Hypaxia stood before the Under-King in a gray-stoned temple to Urd.
The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos.
They looked oddly familiar. Ithan didn’t have time to ponder it as he and Hypaxia inclined their heads to the Under-King.
“Thank you for the audience,” Ithan said, trying to keep his breathing normal. Praying that none of those hounds the Under-King had sent after them on the Autumnal Equinox were lurking around in the misty shadows.
At least there weren’t any Reapers. No sign of Sigrid, wherever she’d gone. One more clusterfuck for him to deal with—but another day. If he managed to live another day, of course.
The Under-King’s bony, withered fingers clicked on the stone arms of his throne. “Prime,” he said to Ithan, “I’m honored to be your first political visit. Though I believe protocol dictates that a meeting with the Governor should have been your priority.” A knowing glance at Hypaxia. “Unless present company makes such things … uncomfortable.”
Hypaxia’s eyes flickered, but she said nothing.
They’d come here for a reason, so Ithan ignored the Under-King’s mocking and said, “Look, uh … Your Majesty.” The Under-King gave him a smile that was all browned, aged teeth. Ithan tried not to shudder. “Jesiba Roga said you agreed that we could make a request. I’d like to speak to my brother, Connor Holstrom.”
The Under-King turned to Hypaxia. “Did I not give you duties to attend to?”
“Handing out blood bags to vampyrs isn’t a good use of my time,” Hypaxia said with impressive authority.
“Shall I reassign you to waiting on the Reapers?” A cruel smile. “They’d enjoy a taste or two of you, girl.”
“I only want five minutes with my brother,” Ithan interrupted.
“To do what?” The Under-King leaned forward.
“I need to tell him a few things.”
“The goodbye you never got to say,” the Under-King taunted.
“Yes,” Ithan said sharply.
The Under-King angled his head. “And you promise not to warn him of what awaits?”
“Does it matter if I do? He’s trapped here already,” Ithan said, gesturing to the temple, the barren land beyond.
“I have no interest in civil unrest—even amongst the dead,” the Under-King said. “And too much unrest would bring unwanted attention and questions.” From the Asteri, no doubt.
Ithan crossed his arms. “That didn’t seem to be your position when you sold my friends out to Pippa Spetsos.”
“Pippa Spetsos stood to assist in expanding my kingdom significantly,” the creature said. “It was an investment for my Reapers—to keep them contented and fed.”
Ithan blocked out the flash of the Prime’s broken body, the way Sigrid had sucked out his soul.
Hypaxia said calmly, “Why did the Reapers first defect from Apollion and join you?”
The Under-King flinched. “Do not speak his name here.”
“My apologies,” Hypaxia murmured. She didn’t sound at all sorry.
But the Under-King settled himself. “In Hel, the Reapers fed on and ruled the vampyrs, and when the vampyrs defected to this world, the Reapers followed their food source. And found the other beings on Midgard to be a veritable feast. So they have left the vampyrs to themselves, feeding as they please on the rest of the populace.”