Hunt was happy to do precisely that. To go to the ballet and these parties and pretend that he’d never known anything different. That Bryce didn’t have the Horn tattooed into her back.
But each morning, when he donned his usual black armor for the 33rd, he remembered. Isaiah had asked him for backup right after Micah’s death, and Hunt had gladly given it. He’d stayed on as Isaiah’s unofficial commander—unofficial only because Hunt didn’t want the paperwork that came with the real title.
The city had been quiet, though. Focused on healing. Hunt wasn’t going to complain.
His phone buzzed in the back pocket of his black jeans, and he fished it out to find an email from Isaiah waiting for him. Hunt read it and went still. His heart dropped to his feet and back up again.
“What’s wrong?” Bryce peered over his shoulder.
Hunt passed her the phone with a surprisingly steady hand. “New Archangels have been chosen for Micah’s and Sandriel’s territories.”
Her eyes widened. “Who? How bad are they?”
He motioned for her to read Isaiah’s email, and Bryce, that firstlight glow stick still coiled around her wrist, obeyed.
Roll out the welcome mat, Isaiah had written as his only comment on the forwarded email from the Asteri’s imperial secretary announcing the new positions.
“They’re not bad,” Hunt said, staring blankly at the revelers now gathering around a Fae male doing a keg stand in the corner. “That’s the problem.”
Bryce’s brows bunched as she scanned the email. “Ephraim—he currently shares Rodinia with Jakob. Yeah, he seems decent enough. But he’s going to northern Pangera. Who … Oh. Who the Hel is Celestina?”
Hunt frowned. “She’s stayed out of the spotlight. She oversees Nena—population, like, fifty. She has one legion under her command. One. She doesn’t even have a triarii. The legion is literally controlled by the Asteri—all watchdogs for the Northern Rift. She’s a figurehead.”
“Big promotion, then.”
Hunt grunted. “Everything I’ve heard about her sounds unusually nice.”
“No chance it’s true?”
“Where Archangels are concerned? No.” He crossed his arms.
Fury said from the couch, “For what it’s worth, Athalar, I haven’t heard anything bad, either.”
Juniper asked, “So this is promising, right?”
Hunt shook his head. This wasn’t a conversation to have in public, but he said, “I can’t figure out why the Asteri would appoint her here, when she’s only handled a small territory until now. She must be their puppet.”
Bryce tilted her head to the side, looking at him in that stark, all-seeing way that made his balls tighten. Gods, she was beautiful. “Maybe it’s just a good thing, Hunt. So many shitty things have happened to us that we might not trust when something actually is good. But maybe we got lucky with Celestina’s appointment.”
“I’m inclined to think Urd’s dealing us a decent hand,” Juniper agreed.
Fury Axtar said nothing, her eyes shining as she thought. The merc would likely be the only one to fully grasp the workings of the Asteri. Not that she’d ever reveal the details of her dealings with them.
“Celestina wants to meet what remains of Micah’s triarii when she arrives. Apparently, there’s going to be some sort of restructuring,” Hunt said as Bryce handed back his phone. “Whatever that means. The press release won’t go live until tomorrow morning. So keep it quiet.” The three females nodded, though he had a feeling Fury wouldn’t keep her word. Whoever she answered to, whatever valuable clients she served, would likely hear before dawn.
Bryce hooked her red hair behind her pointed ears. “When’s Celestina coming?”
“Tomorrow evening.” His throat constricted.
Juniper and Fury fell into quiet conversation, as if to grant them privacy. Bryce, catching their drift, lowered her voice. “You’re a free male, Hunt. She can’t order you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, thumb brushing over the branded-out SPQM. “You chose to reenlist in the 33rd. You have the rights of a free citizen. If you don’t like her, if you don’t want to serve her, then you don’t need to give her a reason in order to leave. You don’t need her permission.”
Hunt grunted his agreement, though he still had a fucking knot in his chest. “Celestina could make life very difficult for us.”
Bryce held up a hand. Starlight radiated, turning her skin iridescent. A drunk asshole nearby let out an ooooooh. Bryce ignored him and said, “I’d like to see her try. I’m the Super Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess, remember?” He knew she was joking, but her mouth thinned. “I’ll protect you.”
“How could I forget, oh Magically Powerful and Super Special … whatever you said.”
Bryce grinned, lowering her hand. She’d been meeting with Ruhn once a week to explore her magic—to learn more about what lay within her veins, fueled by the power of so many. Her magic only manifested as starlight—a purely Fae gift. No shadows, like Ruhn possessed, or fire, like her father. But the sheer force of her power came from all those who’d given a droplet of their magic to the Gates over the years. All combined to make some kind of fuel to increase the potency of her starlight. Or something like that. Bryce had tried to explain it—why the magic manifested as a Fae talent—but Hunt didn’t care where it came from, so long as it kept her safe.
The magic was protection in a world designed to kill her. From a father who might very well want to eliminate the threat of a daughter who surpassed him in power, if only by a fraction.
Hunt still had trouble fathoming that the female standing beside him had become more powerful than the Autumn King. Hunt’s power technically still outranked hers, and her father’s, but with the Horn etched in her back, who really knew the depths of Bryce’s power? Considering Rigelus’s order to lie low, it wasn’t like Bryce could explore how the Horn affected her magic, but given what it had done this spring … He doubted Bryce would ever be tempted to experiment with it anyway.
He caught Axtar watching Bryce, but the merc said nothing.
So Hunt continued, only loud enough to indicate that he wanted Fury and Juniper to also hear, “I don’t know what this Celestina thing is about, but the Asteri do nothing out of the kindness of their hearts.”
“They’d need hearts to do that,” Juniper whispered with uncharacteristic venom.
Fury’s voice lowered. “The war is getting worse in Pangera. Valbara is a key territory full of vital resources. Appointing someone who all reports claim is nice seems idiotic.”
Juniper raised her brows. Not at the claim about the Asteri, Hunt guessed, but that Fury had willingly mentioned the war overseas. The merc rarely, if ever, talked about it. What she’d done over there. What she’d seen. Hunt, having fought in many of those battles, had a good idea of both.
“Maybe they really do want a puppet,” Juniper said. “Someone who’s a figurehead, so they can order all of Valbara’s troops overseas with no resistance.”
Fury tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear. From all appearances, Axtar seemed human. But she was definitely Vanir—of what breed, what House, Hunt had no idea. Flame and Shadow seemed likeliest, but more than that, he couldn’t guess. The merc said, “Even Micah might have resisted that order.”