“More than even a prince and princess can afford,” the dragon said with a note of bitterness. “I was a gift to the Astronomer from an Archangel.”
“Must have been some reading the Astronomer did for them,” Flynn muttered.
The dragon hedged, “It was.”
Her eyes cooled to jet-black cinders. To leave her at the Astronomer’s mercy, to go back into that tiny little ring to sit on his filthy old fingers …
“Look,” Bryce said, “if Marc’s right about the commandeering slaves thing for royal services, then Ruhn and I can make up some shit to explain why we need you.”
“Why help me?” the dragon asked.
Bryce tapped her wrist. “My mate was a slave. I can’t turn a blind eye to it anymore. No one should.” And since she’d already helped out one lost soul today, why not add a few more?
“Who is your mate?” the dragon said.
“Wait,” Flynn objected. “You guys are mates? Like, mates-mates?”
“Mates-mates,” Ruhn said.
“Does the Autumn King know?” Declan asked.
Bryce could have sworn Ruhn glanced at Ithan, who was busy with something on his phone, before she said, “Let’s say it was officially confirmed last night.”
Flynn whistled.
Bryce rolled her eyes, but faced the dragon again. “His name is Hunt Athalar.”
Recognition kindled in the dragon’s eyes. “Orion Athalar?”
“One and the same,” Bryce said. “You know him?”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Only by reputation.”
“Ah.” Bryce asked, a shade awkwardly, “What’s your name?”
“Ariadne.”
“Ari for short,” Flynn chimed in.
“Never Ari,” the dragon snapped.
Bryce’s mouth twitched. “Well, Ariadne, expect these idiots to piss you off on an hourly basis. But try not to burn the place down.” She winked at the dragon. “Feel free to toast Flynn when he’s a smart-ass, though.”
Flynn flipped her off, but Bryce turned toward the door—only to find three sprites in her face. “You should speak to our queen about Lehabah’s bravery,” Sasa said. “Irithys is not a descendant of Ranthia, but she would like to hear your tale.”
“I’m pretty busy,” Bryce said quickly. “Gotta go to work.”
But Malana said to her sister, “She’d need to find Irithys first.” She explained to Bryce, “Last we heard, before we went into the rings all those years ago, she had been sold to one of the Asteri. But perhaps they’d let you speak to her.”
“Why would I need to speak to her?” Bryce asked as she kept heading for the door, aware of Ariadne’s keen gaze.
“Because princesses need allies,” Rithi said, and Bryce halted.
Bryce sighed. “I’m going to need a really big drink after work,” she said, and walked out the door, her phone already at her ear.
“What?” Jesiba said by way of answering.
“The Astronomer. You know him?” Bryce had zero idea what the old male was, but … he seemed like he’d be in the House of Flame and Shadow.
There was silence from the sorceress before she said, “Why?”
“Looking for some strings to pull.”
Jesiba laughed quietly. “You’re the one who stole his rings?”
Maybe they had some sorcerer message-board support group. “Let’s say a friend did.”
“And now you want—what? My money to pay for them?”
“I want you to convince him to accept the money my friends will pay for them.”
“One of those rings is priceless.”
“Yeah, the dragon. Ariadne.”
“Is that what she calls herself?” A low laugh. “Fascinating.”
“You know her?”
“Of her.”
Bryce crossed a busy intersection, keeping her head down as a passing tourist gawked too long in her direction. At least no dreadwolves prowled the streets. “So? Can you help or not?”
Jesiba grunted. “I’ll make a call. No promises.”
“What are you going to say?”
“That he owes me a favor.” Dark promise glittered in the words. “And now you do, too.”
“Get in line,” Bryce said, and hung up.
By the time Bryce reached her little office in the archives, relieved she hadn’t needed to pull her princess rank again, she was ready to bask in the AC and kick back in her chair. Ready to maybe send a message to Hunt to feel out whether he was still pissed. But all plans vanished at the sight of the envelope on her desk.
It contained an analysis of dragon fire, dating back five thousand years. It was in a language Bryce didn’t know, but a translation had been included. Jesiba had scribbled Good luck at the top.
Well, now she knew why the Astronomer kept Ariadne in a ring. Not for light—but for protection.
Among its many uses, the ancient scholar had written, dragon fire is one of the few substances proven to harm the Princes of Hel. It can burn even the Prince of the Pit’s dark hide.
Yeah, Ariadne was valuable. And if Apollion was readying his armies … Bryce had no intention of letting the dragon return to the Astronomer’s clutches.
51
Hunt knew he’d been a fool to think this would end once they found Emile. Once the kid was safe. Bryce clearly had no intention of dropping this. Not with Danika somehow involved.
But he tucked all that aside. He had other shit to take care of right now.
He had to meet with Celestina first. Make an appearance, maintain the facade that all was well. Ensure that the Hind hadn’t told the Archangel anything. His meeting with Isaiah wasn’t for an hour—plenty of time.
Plenty of time to also stew over Bryce, and how well she’d played all of them. How she’d helped Emile, but she’d hidden her plans from him. Plans that had cost lives. And yeah, Bryce could take care of herself, but … He’d thought they were a team.
Again: he knew he’d been a fool.
Hunt soothed his wild blood, and only when he was certain his lightning wasn’t about to erupt did he knock on the Governor’s door.
Celestina smiled in greeting—a good sign. No hint of Ephraim or the others. Good as well. Her smile widened as Hunt stepped closer. “Congratulations,” she said warmly.
Hunt angled his head. “On what?”
She gestured to him. “I take it from your scent that you and Bryce are mated.”
He hadn’t realized the sex would be broadcast like that. Apparently, the bond between them had gone to that biological level. “I, ah. Yeah. Since the overnight at her parents’ house.”
Even if they’d just been at each other’s throats. And not in the good way.
“So visiting her parents went well, then.”
“I thought her mom would cut off my balls at one point, but get Ember talking about sunball, and she’ll become your best friend.” It was true, though he’d learned it months ago. Even if some part of him recoiled at having to answer Celestina’s question with a blatant lie.
Celestina laughed merrily. There was no wariness or displeasure in it—no indication that she might know the truth. “Good. I’m happy for you. For both of you.”