“It’s all right. I’ll fill you in afterward. It might take a while, though, so feel free to eat without me.”
“But it’s pizza night.”
Hunt laughed. “Glad you’ve got your priorities straight.” His wings rustled in the background. “Any word about Prince Dickhead?”
“Nothing on the news, nothing from my mom.”
“Small blessing.”
“You owe me five gold marks.”
“Add it to my tab, Quinlan.”
“Don’t forget that my mom will probably be pissed at you for not telling her.”
“I already have my bug-out bag packed and ready to flee to another territory.”
She chuckled. “I think you’d have to go to Nena to escape her.” Hunt laughed with her. “Don’t you think she—”
A glow flared at her chest. From the scar.
“Bryce?” Hunt’s voice sharpened.
“I, uh …” Bryce frowned down at the glowing star between her breasts, visible in her low-cut dress. Not again. Its glowing had been rare until now, but after last night—
She looked up.
“My boss is here. I’ll call you back,” she lied, and hung up before Hunt could reply.
Bryce lifted her chin and said to Cormac Donnall, lurking in the doorway, “If you’re looking for How Not to Be an Asshole, it’s shelved between Bye, Loser and Get the Fuck Out.”
The Crown Prince of Avallen had changed into a climate-appropriate gray T-shirt that did little to hide the considerable muscles of his arms. A tattoo of strange symbols encircled his left biceps, the black ink gleaming in the bright lights.
He examined her closet-sized office with typical Fae arrogance—and disapproval. “Your star glows in my presence because our union is predestined. In case you were wondering.”
Bryce barked out a laugh. “Says who?”
“The Oracle.”
“Which one?” There were twelve sphinxes around the world, each one bitchier than the last. The meanest of them, apparently, dwelled in the Ocean Queen’s court Beneath.
“Does it matter?” Cormac turned, noting the shell-white dress Bryce wore, the gold bracelets, and, yes, her ample cleavage. Or was he gazing at the star? She supposed it made no difference.
“I just want to know whose ass to kick.”
Cormac’s mouth quirked upward. “I don’t know why I expected a half-breed to be as docile as a pure-blooded female.”
“You’re not doing yourself any favors.”
“I did not say I preferred a tamer female.”
“Gross. What did the Oracle say to you, exactly?”
“What did she say to you before she began clawing at her blinded eyes?”
She didn’t want to know how he’d found out. Maybe her father had told him—warned him about his bride. “Old news. I asked first.”
Cormac glowered. “The Oracle of Avallen said I was destined to unite with a princess who possessed a star in her heart. That our mingling would bring great prosperity to our people.”
Bryce drummed her fingers on her glass desk. “A lot of room for interpretation there.” Trust an Oracle to call sex mingling.
“I disagree.”
Bryce sighed. “Tell me why you’re here, then leave, please. I have work to do.”
Cormac studied the small torso of Thurr on her desk. “I wanted to see where my betrothed works. To gain some insight into your … life.”
“You say that as if it’s a foreign thing for females to have jobs.”
“In Avallen, it is.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “My people have let the old traditions remain untouched. You will need to adjust.”
“Thanks, but no. I like my TV and phone. And I like being considered a person, not livestock for breeding.”
“Like I said last night, you don’t have a choice.” His voice was flat, his eyes hollow.
Bryce crossed her arms, realized it put her cleavage and the star on better display, and lowered them to her sides once more. “Can I … pay you to drop this whole engagement thing?”
Cormac laughed. “I have more gold than I know what to do with. Money holds little power over me.” He crossed his arms as well. “You have a chance to help your people and this world. Once you bear me a few heirs, you can take whatever lovers you wish. I will do the same. This marriage doesn’t need to burden either of us.”
“Except for the part where I have to sleep with you. And live in your backwater land.”
His lips curled upward. “I think you’ll find the first part to be rather enjoyable.”
“Spoken with true male arrogance.”
He shrugged, clearly confident that she would enjoy him. “I haven’t had any complaints yet. And if our union helps our people, and strengthens the royal bloodlines, then I’ll do it.”
“The Fae are no people of mine.” They never had been, and certainly not now, after they’d locked out innocent citizens in this city and refused to come to anyone’s aid during the attack last spring. She pointed to the open door. “Bye.”
He simmered with disgust. “Your father let you run wild for too long.”
“My father’s name is Randall Silago. The Autumn King is just a male who gave me genetic material. He will never have a place in my life. Neither will you.”
Cormac took a step back from the doorway, shadows swirling. His golden hair glowed like molten metal. “You’re immortal now, as well as Starborn. Time to act like it.”
Bryce slammed the door in his face.
Hunt considered the beautiful Archangel seated at Micah’s old desk. Glowing skin as dark as onyx brought out the light brown of her eyes, and her delicate mouth seemed permanently set in a patient smile. It was that smile—that gentle, kind smile—that threw him. “Take a seat, please,” Celestina said to him, Naomi, and Isaiah.
Hunt nearly choked at the word. Please. Micah would never have said anything of the sort. Isaiah appeared equally baffled as they settled into the three chairs before the simple oak desk. Naomi kept her face wholly blank, her black wings rustling.
Behind the Governor’s gleaming white wings, the wall of windows revealed an unusual number of angels soaring by. All hoping to catch a glimpse of the female who had entered the Comitium in a grand procession thirty minutes ago.
The lobby ceremony had been the start of Hunt’s utter confusion. Rather than strutting magnanimously past the gathered crowd, the voluptuous, lush-bodied Archangel had taken her time, pausing to greet the malakim who stepped forward, asking for their names, saying things like I’m so very happy to meet you and I look forward to working with you. Cthona spare him, but Hunt honestly thought she might be serious.
He didn’t let his guard down, though. Not when she’d reached him, Naomi, and Isaiah, standing before the elevator doors to escort her to her new residence and office; not when she’d taken his hand with genuine warmth; and certainly not now that they sat here for this private meeting.
Celestina surveyed them with unnerving clarity. “You three are all that remains of Micah’s triarii.”
None of them replied. Hunt didn’t dare mention Vik—or beg the Archangel to pull her out of Melinoë’s inky depths. To spare her from a living Hel. It had been months. Odds were that Vik had gone insane. Was likely begging for death with each moment in that box.