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“Dad of the year,” Baxian growled.
Bryce grunted her agreement.
Sathia said with impressive coldness, “It is within my rights to refuse any suitor presented to me.”
Morven gave her a look dripping with distaste. “It is, girl. Just as it is within your father’s rights to disown you for failing in your duty to continue the family bloodline.”
Bryce grumbled, “So what’s the point of giving females refusal rights at all if you punish them for it?”
“This isn’t our problem,” Flynn grumbled, and even Ruhn whirled to him in shock. “We didn’t come here to deal with this.”
“So you’re not here to beg asylum as well?” Morven asked, propping his chin on a fist.
“No,” Hunt growled, stepping forward, wings flaring. “We’re not.” He glanced to Bryce, motioning her forward again.
Swapping a look with Ruhn that said they’d deal with the issue of Sathia later, Bryce set aside her concern and lifted her chin as she stepped to Hunt’s side. “I’m here to access the Avallen Archives and the Cave of Princes.”
“Access denied,” Morven said.
“You mistake me,” Bryce said in that voice that brooked no argument. “I wasn’t asking your permission.” The star on her chest began to glow, illuminating her T-shirt and athletic jacket. “As a Starborn Princess, no part of Avallen is denied to me.”
“I shall decide who is worthy of accessing my realm,” Morven snarled.
“The starlight says otherwise,” Bryce said. She drew the Starsword—and the dagger. “And so do these.”
As if their sheaths had kept their power contained, the naked metal now throbbed against her palm, up her arms, tugging toward each other so violently it took all her strength to keep them apart.
Morven paled. Even his shadows receded. “What is that in your left hand?” Even the Murder Twins and Sathia had their eyes trained on her, as if they couldn’t look away.
“Some major prophecy fulfillment,” Bryce said, hoping to Hel she was hiding the tremble in her arms from keeping the black blades steady, from ignoring that instinct murmuring to her to bring them together, not keep them apart.
“Where did you get that knife?” Morven hissed.
“So you know what it is, then?” Bryce said.
“Yes,” he seethed. “I can feel its power.”
“Well, that makes it easier,” Bryce said. She sheathed both weapons. Mercifully, the pulling eased with the action. “Less explaining for me.” She nodded to Morven, and he glowered. “I’ll be in and out of here before you know it.”
His shadows returned, darkening the air behind his antler-throne until it seemed Morven sat before a void. “Females are forbidden in both the Avallen Archives and the Cave of Princes.”
“I don’t really care,” Bryce said.
“You spit on our sacred traditions.”
“Get over it.”
Morven’s nostrils flared. “I’ll remind you, girl, that one word from me and the Asteri will have you in their grasp.”
“You’d have to open the mists to them first,” Bryce countered. “And it seems like you’ve worked really hard not to do that—or give them a reason to come here at all.”
“You can be removed by guards.”
Bryce gestured to Hunt, then Baxian, then the others. “My own guards might make that difficult.”
“This is my kingdom—”
“I’m not challenging that. I just want to look through your archives. A few days, then we’ll all be out of your hair.” She pulled the Autumn King’s notebook from her jacket. “I’ll even sweeten the deal: Here’s my sire’s private journal. Well, his most current one. All his recent scheming, written down. It’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. Dear Diary, today I made a list of all my enemies and how I plan to kill them. It’s so hard being king—I wish I had a friend!”
