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Ithan almost laughed at the nickname. Someone as intense as the female before him had no business being called Siggy.
“The next time they let us out of the house,” Sigrid said, bristling. “In days or weeks.”
“I’ll remind you,” Declan drawled, “that you’re currently Sabine’s primary enemy.”
“Let her come find me,” Sigrid said without an ounce of fear. “I’ve a score to settle.”
“Luna spare me,” Flynn muttered. Ithan could have sworn he caught the sprites nodding their agreement as they resettled themselves on Sigrid’s shoulders. The Fae lord turned to Declan and Marc. “Anything?”
The couple shook their heads. “No. It really does seem like the Asteri put a lock on the information. Nothing’s getting in or out.” Silence fell, heavy and tense.
It was Sigrid who said, “So what now?”
Only two days out of the tank and she was already assuming the mantle of leader, whether she knew it or not. A true Alpha, expecting to be answered … and obeyed.
“We keep trying to find out what’s going on,” Declan said with a one-shouldered shrug.
Flynn blew out an exasperated breath and plopped onto his chair again. “We’re no closer than we were two days ago: Ruhn and Athalar are being held as traitors. That’s all we know.” That was all Marc’s inside source at the Eternal City had been able to glean. Nothing else.
Declan sank into a seat and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Honestly? We’re lucky we aren’t in those dungeons, too.”
“We have to break them out,” Flynn said, crossing his muscled arms. Rithi, on his left shoulder, made an identical gesture.
“Urd knows what shape they’re in,” Declan said bleakly. “We’d need medwitches on hand, probably.”
“You’ve got healing magic,” Flynn countered.
“Yeah,” Dec said, shaking his head, “but the kind of injuries they’d have … I’d need to be working alongside a team of trained professionals.”
The thought of what those injuries might be to require such a team of medwitches made them all fall silent again. A heavy, miserable sort of quiet.
“And,” Declan challenged, head lifting, “where would we even go once we rescued them? There’s no one on Midgard who could hide or harbor us.”
“What about that mer ship?” Flynn mused. “The one that picked them up at Ydra. It outran the Omega-boats. Seems pretty damned good at hiding from the Asteri, too.”
“Flynn,” Marc warned with a glance at the teeming market. All those listening ears.
Ithan kept his voice low. “Tharion could get us onto that ship.”
He expected Flynn to roll his eyes at the mention of helping Ketos, but the male glanced to the second level. “He can’t set foot beyond this market.”
None of them had seen or heard from the mer male since he’d left for Pangera. But they’d learned of his whereabouts thanks to a neon-green piece of paper taped to a lamppost, advertising an upcoming match in the Viper Queen’s fighting pit with Tharion as the main event. It was clear enough what had happened: the male had defected from the Blue Court and run straight here.
Ithan countered, “Then we ask Tharion how to get a message to them.”
Declan shook his head. “And what then? We all live under the ocean forever?”
Ithan shifted on his feet. The wolf in him would go insane. No ability to run freely, to respond to the moon calling his name—
“She lived in a tank for the gods know how long,” Flynn said, gaze darting to Sigrid. “I think we can manage a cushy, city-sized submarine.”
Sigrid flinched—a crack in her usually cocky exterior.
“Careful,” Ithan warned Flynn.
The sprites murmured their comfort to Sigrid, their flames now a deep raspberry. But Sigrid silently rose from her seat and walked toward a nearby vendor selling opals. The sweatshirt and pants Ithan had given her hung off her lean frame, swishing with each step.
“You need to remind her to shower,” Dec said a shade quietly, eyes shining with concern.
