Lidia only leveled a bored look at Rigelus.
He smirked, always amused by the cruelty of others, and said to the mistress, “Should Hel come knocking, send word and I will assist you personally.” A huge honor—and an indication of how badly he needed Athalar broken. Ruhn and Baxian, she wasn’t entirely sure about, but Athalar …
The mistress bowed her head. Leaving Irithys now staring at Lidia.
Lidia lifted her chin. “Will you be amenable to assisting me?”
Irithys glanced down at herself, as if she could see the small band of tattoos around her throat. A halo of sorts—inked on the Sprite Queen by an imperial hag to keep her power in check.
The queen’s gesture was a silent question.
Rigelus said, “The ink remains. You can wield enough of your powers to prove useful.”
Lidia kept quiet. Let Irithys study her.
She’d been kept down here more than a century. Had not seen daylight or left that crystal bubble in all that time. There was a good chance that behind the glimmering eyes, the queen had gone mad.
But Lidia didn’t need her sanity. She could do the thinking for the two of them.
Irithys’s chin dipped slightly.
Rigelus turned to Lidia. “You have a week with her.”
Lidia held the sprite’s blazing stare, let her see the cold fire within her own soul. “Breaking Athalar won’t take that long.”
* * *
Bryce left what she assumed was dinner—roast chicken, more bread, and some herbed potatoes—uneaten on the tray. No one had come by in the hours that had passed, so she assumed they’d either check in with her tomorrow, or perhaps wait until she was banging on that wall of night and howling for someone to come talk to her.
Neither of which seemed like an appealing option.
That left two choices, really. See if she could break through the magical barrier, then make her way out of this mountain and into a strange new world with no idea where she was going, or …
She glanced down. Or she could see what lay at the bottom of the grate, if there was some opening beyond the beasts that might take her out of this place … and into a strange new world with no idea where she was going.
Hours, and that was the best she could come up with.
“Pathetic,” she muttered, zipping the Archesian amulet along its chain. “Fucking pathetic.”
What was happening to Hunt? To Ruhn? Were they even—
She wouldn’t let herself think about it.
Her captors had taken her phone before bringing her here, so she had no idea what time it was. Or at least what time it was on Midgard. She didn’t even want to wade into the tangle of how time might pass faster or slower on this world. And how long had actually passed since that run down the hallway in the Eternal Palace—
Bryce stood from her crouched position against the wall. Stalked to the grate in the center of the room. A chorus of hissing rose from it as she approached.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” she murmured, kneeling and prying the grate out of the floor, her fingers straining painfully with the effort. But inch by inch, it pulled away, scraping too loudly against the stone floor.
She waited a moment, listening for the sounds of her approaching captors. When no one came to investigate the noise, Bryce peered into the yawning dark pit she’d opened.
She lowered her head a little toward the hole. The hissing stopped.
Bryce willed starlight to her hand and held it up. Nothing but emptiness waited below. Bryce fisted her palm, balling the starlight into an orb, and dropped it down—
A writhing sea of black, scaled bodies silvered by her light appeared.
Bryce scrambled back.
Sobeks—or their dark twins. Tharion had faced them when they’d escaped the Bone Quarter, concentrating his water magic into lethal spears that pierced their thick hides, but …“Fuck,” she breathed.
She glanced over a shoulder to the door. To the shield that echoed there with a sense of Rhysand. Power the likes of which she’d never encountered—at least, other than from the Asteri.
If he had as much power as an Asteri … It was all a hunch, really, but if he could be manipulated into helping her, somehow coming back to Midgard with her and kicking ass—
She might very well replace six conquerors for another. And something had to change, the cycle had to stop now, but not if it began anew with another overlord. And if Rhysand did indeed have that much power, she doubted these interrogations would continue so peaceably for much longer. Especially now that they knew she had something of importance tattooed on her back. Whatever Made meant, it held considerable weight with them. She had little doubt their patience would soon wear thin.