“What do you mean?” He took it as a good sign that she didn’t say no.
He said, “I can’t just leave her there.”
“Why is it your burden to free her?”
“Wolves don’t belong in cages. That’s what the mystics’ tanks are. Watery cages.”
“And what if she wants to be in there?”
“How could she?” Before the queen could answer, he plowed on, “I know it’s random. There are so many other people suffering out there. But it doesn’t sit right with me.”
He’d screwed up enough in the past two years—he wouldn’t drop the ball on this. An Alpha wolf in captivity—the idea was abhorrent. He’d do whatever he could to help her.
She seemed to read whatever lay on his face. “You’re a good male, Ithan Holstrom.”
“You met me yesterday.” And after tonight, he sure as fuck didn’t deserve that claim.
“But I can tell.” She touched his hand gently. “I do not think there is much I can do to help the mystic, unfortunately, beyond what your other royal friends might be able to accomplish.”
Ithan knew she was right. He’d find another way, then. Somehow. “Well, this is fucked.”
“It sure is,” said a male voice from the doorway, and Ithan blinked, surprised to find Flynn and Declan standing there, Tharion a step behind them.
“Hey,” Ithan said, bracing for the ridicule, the ribbing, the questioning about how the Hel he’d mangled protection duty.
But Declan bowed his head to the queen before sauntering over to Ithan. “How you feeling, pup?”
“Fine,” Ithan said, then admitted, “A little sore.”
“Getting your throat ripped out does that to a male,” Flynn said. He winked at Hypaxia. “But she fixed you up pretty good, didn’t she?”
Hypaxia smiled up at him. Tharion, lingering by the door, chuckled.
Ithan said quietly, “Yeah, she did.”
Declan clapped his hands together. “Okay, well, we just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Hypaxia added, “They’ve been in and out all night.”
“You’ll give them away as big old softies, Pax,” Tharion said to the queen, who shook her head at the name. As if Tharion often used it to annoy her.
Declan asked the queen, “When can he come home?”
Home. The word rang through Ithan. He’d been their roommate for only a week and a half. When had he last had a true home? The Den hadn’t been one since his parents had died.
But … that was genuine concern on Declan’s face. On Flynn’s. Ithan swallowed hard.
“Tomorrow morning,” Hypaxia said, and rose from her chair. “I’ll do my final check then, and if you’re cleared, you’ll be on your way, Ithan.”
“I’m supposed to guard you,” Ithan countered, his voice thick.
But she patted his shoulder before walking to the door. Tharion fell into step beside her, like he planned to converse in private. The witch-queen said to Ithan as she and the mer left, “Take tomorrow off.”
Ithan opened his mouth to object, but she’d already left, the mer with her.
Flynn slung himself into the seat the queen had vacated. “Don’t tell Ruhn, but I’d love to have that female do a check on me.”
Ithan scowled, but refrained from explaining what he’d overheard. The queen loved another and seemed pretty cut up about it. But what good was love, in the face of duty?
He’d keep Hypaxia’s romance quiet. She’d agreed to her union with Ruhn, and he could do nothing but admire that she’d chosen to do so even when her heart lay with someone else.
Fuck, he knew how that felt. He blocked out Bryce’s face from his mind.
Declan was saying to Flynn, “Do yourself a favor and don’t hit on her. Or tease her.”
“She’s Ruhn’s fiancée,” Flynn said, propping his boots on the edge of Ithan’s bed and tucking his hands behind his head. “That entitles me to some ribbing.”
Ithan laughed, eyes stinging. No one ever joked in Amelie’s pack. He might coax a smile from Perry every once in a while, but mostly they were all serious. Humorless. They never laughed at themselves.
But these guys had come to check on him. Not to rip into him for failing. They didn’t even seem to view it as a failure.
Flynn asked a shade seriously, “You’re really feeling all right, though?”
Ithan mastered himself. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Declan said.
Ithan’s throat tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it—people having his back. Caring if he lived or died. The Pack of Devils had been that for him, yes, but his sunball team, too. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since Connor’s death.
Flynn’s eyes softened slightly, as if seeing something on Ithan’s face, and Ithan straightened, clearing his throat. But Flynn said, “We got you, wolf.”
“Why?” The question slipped out before Ithan could wonder whether he should ask. But there were probably dozens of Fae who’d spent years trying to squeeze into the trio that was Ruhn, Flynn, and Declan. Why they’d brought Ithan into their little circle was beyond him.
Flynn and Dec swapped glances. The latter shrugged. “Why not?”
“I’m a wolf. You’re Fae.”
“So old-fashioned.” Flynn winked. “I had you pegged as more progressive than that.”
“I don’t want your pity,” Ithan said.
Declan drew back. “Who the fuck said anything about pity?”
Flynn put up his hands. “We’re only friends with you because we want good sunball tickets.”
Ithan looked between the males. Then burst out laughing.
“All right.” He rubbed at his sore throat again. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”
Ruhn monitored his sister as they waited for Athalar to finish briefing some senior members of the 33rd on what had gone down with the deathstalker.
It felt like last spring all over again. Granted, Micah had been the one summoning those kristallos demons, but … this couldn’t be good. The Horn was tattooed on Bryce’s back now—what wouldn’t Hel do to attain it?
“The answer,” Bryce said to Ruhn, “is that I’m not going to allow any sort of security detail.”
Ruhn blinked. And said silently, I wasn’t thinking that.
She glared at him sidelong. I could feel you brooding about the attack. It’s the logical conclusion from an overly aggressive Fae male.
Overly aggressive?
Protective?
Bryce. This is some serious-ass shit.
I know.
And you’re a princess now. An official one.
She crossed her arms, watching Hunt talk with his friends. I know.
How do you feel about it?
How do you feel about it?
Why the fuck would it make any difference what I feel? He scowled at her.
Because now you have to share the crown.
I’m glad I can share it with you. Selfishly, pathetically glad, Bryce. But … isn’t this what you wanted to avoid?
It is. Her mental voice hardened into sharp steel.
Are you going to do something about it?