Ephraim grunted and motioned to the nearest server for a drink. Taking that as her cue, Bryce bowed to them again, and pivoted Hunt toward the crowd. Cormac had the wits to follow, but left them near a pillar after a word to Bryce. He stalked for the Autumn King.
So Ruhn went up to them, and Bryce snorted. “Nice crown.”
He jerked his chin at her. “That’s all you have to say?”
She shrugged. “What?”
But she frowned over his shoulder. Right. There were a lot of people with Vanir hearing listening. He’d yell at her later.
Though … he didn’t really need to yell at all. She’d found her way out of this clusterfuck. Her own brilliant, daring way. “I’m really glad you’re my sister,” Ruhn said.
Bryce smiled so broadly it showed all her teeth.
Ruhn shook off his shock and said to Athalar, “Sweet tux.” He added, just to be a dick, “Your Highness.”
Athalar pulled at his collar. “No wonder you got all those piercings, if this is how you’re expected to dress at these things.”
“First rule of being a prince,” Ruhn said, grinning. “Rebel where you can.” Considering what they were all doing these days, it was the understatement of the year.
Hunt growled, but Ephraim and Celestina stood from their thrones at the rear of the conservatory, a massive screen dropping from a panel in the glass ceiling. A projector began to hum.
“Friends.” Celestina’s clear voice rang out over the crowd. Anyone still speaking shut the fuck up. “We thank you for coming to celebrate our union this lovely evening.”
Ephraim’s deep voice boomed, “It is with much joy that Celestina and I announce our mating.” He smiled faintly at his gorgeous mate. “And with much joy that we remotely welcome our guests of honor.”
The lights dimmed, leaving only soft candlelight that made the decorative skulls all the more menacing. Then the screen flickered on, revealing seven thrones. A sight more harrowing than any skull or scythe.
Six of the thrones were full. The seventh had been left vacant, as always—thanks to the Prince of the Pit.
A chill skittered up Ruhn’s arms as the Asteri coldly surveyed the party.
59
Bryce couldn’t get a breath down.
The Asteri stared at them all like they could see through the screen. See them gathered here.
They must be able to, Bryce realized. Her hand slipped into Hunt’s, and he squeezed tight, a gray wing tucking around her. Gods, he was gorgeous tonight.
She’d figured this party was the only setting where her father wouldn’t dare challenge her. Where any union with Hunt could be verified and recognized by Archangels. She’d worn and done everything he’d ordered … all so she could get here tonight. Had raced up to the dais upon arriving so that she could announce Hunt as her mate before her father could introduce her as Cormac’s bride.
Relief and excitement—and a bit of smugness—had coursed through her. Her father would bring down the hammer later. But tonight … she’d celebrate her victory. She knew Hunt had as little interest in being a prince as she did in being a princess. But he’d done it. For her. For them.
She’d been about to drag Hunt into a closet or a cloakroom to fuck his brains out when the screen descended. And now, staring at the six immortal figures, at Rigelus’s boyish face …
Thankfully, other people in the room were shaking, too. Her heart pounded like a drum.
Celestina and Ephraim bowed, and everyone followed suit. Bryce’s legs wobbled on her heels as she did so. Hunt squeezed her hand again, but she kept her focus on the ground, hating the primal fear, the terror of knowing that these beings judged them, and with one word they might slay everyone, might slay her family—
“Our congratulations to you, Celestina and Ephraim,” Rigelus crooned in that voice that didn’t belong to the teenage body his twisted soul inhabited. “We extend our wishes for a happy mating, and a fertile one.”
Celestina and Ephraim lowered their heads in thanks. “We are grateful for your wisdom and kindness in pairing us,” Celestina said. Bryce tried and failed to detect the undercurrent of her tone. Was it sincere? Was the slight tightness from a lie, or from being before the Asteri?
Octartis, the Southern Star—the Asteri to Rigelus’s right—spoke, her voice like ancient, cracking ice. “I understand other congratulations are in order, too.”
A chill shot along Bryce’s spine as Rigelus said, “Princess Bryce Danaan and Prince Hunt Athalar.” It was an order. A command.
The crowd fell back. Giving the Asteri a clear shot at them.
Oh gods. Bryce’s blood rushed from her face. How did they already know? Had the cameras on their end been running the whole time, letting the Asteri watch and listen unseen?
But then the Autumn King was there, bowing at her side. “I present my daughter to you, Holy Ones,” he intoned.
She wondered if he hated bowing to them. It satisfied the fuck out of her to see him do it, but there was no time to dwell on that now. Bryce bowed, too, as she murmured, “Hail the Asteri.”
Cormac appeared on her father’s other side, bowing low. As Crown Prince of Avallen, he had no other choice.
He’d been furious at her stunt. Not that she’d ended their engagement, but that she hadn’t warned him ahead of time. Any other surprises tonight, Princess? he’d snapped at her before striding off to speak to her father. You broke our deal. I won’t forget that.
She hadn’t responded, but … Did the Asteri know one of their fiercest rebels stood before them, playing prince? Did they know how she’d helped him, worked with him? She supposed if they did, they’d all be dead.
“And I present her mate and consort, Prince Hunt Athalar,” the Autumn King was saying sharply, his disapproval palpable. He might very well kill her for this. If Cormac didn’t do it first.
But, according to Fae law, she was now Hunt’s property. Recognized in the past few minutes by both Archangels and the Asteri. If it made Hunt uncomfortable, if he resented his new title or the beings before him, he showed no sign as he bowed, his wing brushing over her back. “Hail the Asteri.”
“Rise,” the Asteri said, and so Bryce, Hunt, and her father did. There were so many eyes upon them. In this room, in that chamber in the Eternal City. Rigelus’s, especially, bore into her. He smiled slightly. Like he knew everything she’d done these weeks. Every rebel activity, every mutinous thought.
Bryce hated herself for lowering her gaze. Even as she knew Hunt stared Rigelus down.
But the Bright Hand of the Asteri said, “So many happy unions tonight. It is our wish that you all partake in the revelry. Go, and celebrate Death’s Day in peace.”
Everyone bowed again, and the screen went dark. More than a few people whimpered, as if they’d been holding in the sound.
No one spoke for several seconds as the lights brightened. Then the band began once more slightly off-tempo, like the musicians needed a minute to get their shit together. Even the Archangels were a little pale as they took their seats.
Bryce faced her father. The Autumn King said in a voice so low no one else could hear, “You little bitch.”
Bryce smiled broadly. “It’s ‘You little bitch, Your Highness.’ ” She stalked into the crowd. She didn’t miss Hunt smirking at the king, throwing him a wink that clearly said: Make a move and I’ll fry you, asswipe.