Bryce picked up the desktop phone, dialing. Jesiba answered on the third ring. “Another question, Quinlan? That’s the third one this week.”
Bryce drummed her fingers on her glass desk. “I’ve got a nine-thousand-year-old Rhodinian bust of Thurr here.” Basically a broody male who was supposed to pass for the nearly forgotten minor storm deity. All that remained of him in their culture was the behemoth of a planet named after him. And Thursdays, apparently. Bryce had already sent a photo of it to Hunt, with the comment, Bryce Quinlan Presents: The Original Alphahole Smolder. “A museum is interested, but they’re worried the former owner fudged some documents about its history. They want to make sure it’s legit before showing it to the public. Any idea who to call in Rhodinia to verify?”
“If I’m doing your job for you, then why am I not being paid for it?”
Bryce ground her teeth. “Because we’re friends?”
“Are we?”
“You tell me.”
Jesiba huffed a soft laugh. The enchantress who’d defected from her witch-clan and sworn allegiance to the House of Flame and Shadow still lurked around Lunathion, but Bryce hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day Jesiba had found Bryce poking around the watery ruins of the gallery library and told her not to come back.
Not in a mean way. Just in a This gallery is now permanently closed, and those books you’re looking for are hidden away where no one will ever find them sort of manner.
Jesiba said, “I suppose I should consider it an honor, to be called a friend by the Starborn Princess daughter of the Autumn King.” A slight pause, and Bryce knew what was coming next. “And the future Queen of Avallen.”
Bryce swiftly opened a news website as she hissed, “Who told you?”
“Some of the people I’ve turned into animals have remained in my employ, you know. They tell me what they overhear on the streets. Especially the sewer rats who hope to regain their true forms one day.”
Bryce truly wasn’t sure if Jesiba was serious. She sighed again. “I don’t suppose you have any insights as to why the Autumn King suddenly decided to ruin my life.”
Jesiba tsked. “Males will always try to control the females who scare them. Marriage and breeding are their go-to methods.”
“Satisfying as it is to think of my father being afraid of me, that can’t be it.”
“Why not? It’s been months. You’ve done nothing with your new power, your titles. Or the Horn in your back. He grew tired of waiting. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did this just to learn how you’d react.”
“Maybe.” Bryce doodled on a piece of scrap paper beside her computer. A little heart that said BQ + HA.
“What are you going to do about it?” Jesiba asked, as if she couldn’t help it.
“Pretend it’s not happening until I can’t any longer?”
Jesiba chuckled again. “I worried, you know, when I learned you were Starborn. I’ve watched many succumb to the allure of being the Chosen One. Perhaps you and your brother have more in common than I realized.”
“I think that’s a compliment?”
“It is. Ruhn Danaan is one of the few who’s ever been strong enough to shun what he is.” Bryce grunted. “You don’t plan on doing anything with it, then,” Jesiba asked, more quietly than Bryce had ever heard. “Your talent. Or the Horn.”
“Definitely not the Horn. And it seems most of the Starborn power’s value lies in what I can breed into the Fae bloodline.” Bryce straightened, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “And what good does blinding people do? I mean, it does have its uses, but surely there are deadlier weapons to wield?” Like Hunt’s lightning.
“You killed an Archangel without access to that power. I imagine that you can now do a great many things, Quinlan.”
Bryce stiffened at the words, spoken so casually over an open line. She had no idea what Jesiba had done with the Godslayer Rifle. Honestly, she never wanted to see it again.
Bryce lowered her voice, even though she knew no one was near her little subterranean office. “I was given an order by the Asteri to lie low. Forever.”
“How terribly boring of you to obey them.”
Bryce opened her mouth, but the intercom on her desk buzzed. “Miss Quinlan, you’re needed in the northern wing. Doctor Patrus wants your opinion on that sculpture from Delsus?”
Bryce pushed the button. “Be there in five.” She said to Jesiba, “I’m going to send you some photos of this piece. I’d appreciate it if you’d deign to give me your opinion. And let me know if you have any contacts in Rhodinia who can help verify its authenticity.”
“I’m busy.”
“So am I.”
“Perhaps I’ll turn you into a toad.”
“At least toads don’t wear stupid heels to work,” Bryce said, sliding her feet back into the white stilettos she’d chucked beneath her desk.
Jesiba let out another soft, wicked laugh. “A word of advice, Quinlan: think through the advantages of a marriage to Cormac Donnall before you decide to be a cliché and refuse.”
Bryce stood, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Who says I’m not?”
There was a lengthy pause before the sorceress said, “Good girl,” and hung up.
9
“Anything?”
“Nothing at all—though you were right about the all-out decorations. I nearly flew into about six different banners and wreaths on my way over this morning. But no reports or sightings of the Governor. Pretty normal day so far, to be honest.” Hunt’s low voice ran invisible hands along Bryce’s arms as she picked at the remnants of her lunch: a gyro grabbed from the archives’ staff cafeteria. He added, “Though not if you count me receiving a photo of some marble abs while I was showing crime scene pictures to Naomi.”
“Thought you’d enjoy that.”
His laugh rumbled over the line. It shot through her like starlight. If he was able to laugh today, good. She’d do whatever she could to keep a smile on Hunt’s face. He cleared his throat. “Thurr was pretty jacked, huh?”
“I’m petitioning for the exhibit to sell replicas in the gift shop. I think the old ladies will go wild over it.” That earned her another beautiful laugh. She bit her lip against her broad smile. “So Celestina’s now due to arrive at six, then?” Apparently, she’d been delayed by an hour.
“Yep.” Any hint of amusement faded.
Bryce stirred her computer to life. So far, the news sites reported nothing beyond the headline that Lunathion—that all of Valbara—would have a new leader.
Bryce was willing to admit she’d spent a good hour skimming through various images of the beautiful Archangel, pondering what sort of boss she’d be for Hunt. She found no hint about any romantic entanglements, though Micah hadn’t often broadcast who he’d been fucking. It wasn’t that Bryce was worried, though she’d certainly felt a scrap of something when she’d seen precisely how stunning Celestina was, but … she needed a mental picture of who Hunt would be seeing day in and day out.
Bryce chucked her lunch into the trash beside her desk. “I could come over after work. Be with you for the grand arrival.”