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Her head throbbed; her mouth was painfully dry. The rough fibers of a carpet scraped her cheek, muffling the sounds of an enclosed space. It was dry, vaguely musty. Familiar-smelling.
“Isn’t this interesting,” drawled a male voice in her own language. It was the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard.
Though she’d have wished, perhaps, for the words to have come from someone other than the Autumn King.
He loomed over her, his hands wreathed in flame. Above him, a golden orrery clicked and whirred. She’d landed in her father’s private study.
The Autumn King’s lips curled in that familiar cruel smile. “And where have you been, Bryce Quinlan?”
Bryce opened her mouth, power rallying—
And sputtering out.
“For an old bastard, you move fast,” she groaned, straining against the gorsian shackles on her wrists. No chains attached to them, at least—just the cuffs of the shackles. But it was enough. Bryce couldn’t so much as summon a flicker of starlight.
Her father knew it. He strolled to his giant wooden desk like he had all the time in the world.
In those initial seconds when she’d landed here, in the worst fucking place in the whole fucking world, he’d not only disabled her power with those shackles—he’d also disarmed her. The Starsword and Truth-Teller now lay behind him on his desk. Along with her phone.
Bryce lifted her chin, though she remained sitting on the ground. “Are Ruhn and Hunt alive?”
Something like distaste flashed in the Autumn King’s eyes. As if such mortal bonds should be the least of her concerns. “You show your hand, Bryce Quinlan.”
“I thought my name was Bryce Danaan now,” she seethed.
“To the detriment of the line, yes,” the Autumn King said, his eyes sparking. “Where have you been?”
“There was a sample sale at the mall,” Bryce said flatly. “Are Ruhn and Hunt still alive?”
The Autumn King’s head angled, gaze sweeping over her filthy T-shirt, her torn leggings. “I was informed that you were no longer on this planet. Where did you go?”
Bryce declined to answer.
Her father smiled slightly. “I can connect the dots. You arrive from off-world, bearing a knife that matches the Starsword. The dagger from the prophecy, no?” His eyes gleamed with greed. “Not seen since the First Wars. If I were to guess, you managed to reach a place I have long desired to go.” He glanced up at the orrery.
“You might want to reconsider before packing your bags,” Bryce said. “They don’t take kindly to assholes.”
“Your journey hasn’t impacted that smart mouth of yours, I see.”
She smiled with saccharine sweetness. “You’re still an absolute bastard, I see.”
The Autumn King pursed his lips. “I’d be careful if I were you.” He pushed off his desk and stalked toward her. “No one knows you’re here.”
“Taking your daughter hostage: excellent parenting.”
“You are my guest here until I see fit to release you.”
“Which will be when?” She batted her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.
“When I have the reassurances I seek.”
Bryce made a show of tapping her chin in contemplation. “How about this: You let me go, and I don’t fucking kill you for delaying me?”
A soft, taunting laugh. How had her mother ever loved this cold-blooded reptile?
“I’ve already sealed off the wards around this villa, and sent away my servants and sentries.”
“You mean to tell me we’re going to do all our own cooking?”
