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Aidas smiled wickedly. “Do you wish to?”

“No,” Bryce said, and meant it. “Grateful as we are … I think we have different definitions for the word pet.”

Aidas smiled fully this time. “Then I shall give you my gratitude, Bryce Quinlan. And bid you farewell.”

“I’ll be forever grateful,” Bryce said to the Prince of the Chasm, “for your kindness that day at the Oracle.”

His smile turned gentler. “Theia would be proud of you.”

“And of you,” Bryce said, the only gift she could offer to a Prince of Hel. She refrained from saying that Theia’s pride meant shit to her, though. “I think you might get to hear it from her lips one day.”

Aidas angled his head. Bryce had told all of them about what Jesiba had claimed. What she’d seen in that land of glowing light. “You think a Prince of Hel shall be allowed in?”

Bryce walked up to him and kissed his cheek. Icy skin met her lips. “I think a good male, regardless of where he is from, will always be allowed in.”

Aidas’s eyes glowed bright blue—with gratitude or longing or love, she didn’t know. But the prince only nodded to her, then to Hunt, and walked through the Northern Rift into the dark.

Apollion was waiting just inside, and he took up a place beside his brother. Bryce’s hand slid into Hunt’s, and she lifted her other hand in farewell.

To her surprise, both princes returned the gesture.

With a ripple of thought and power, she closed the Rift. Locked it securely, leaving no cracks to slip through. Though the Asteri were gone, all their crystal Gates throughout Midgard remained intact. But for now, at least this particular Gate was shut completely. At long last.

“Looks like your demon-hunting days might be over,” she said to Hunt.

Her mate grinned down at her, and kissed her gently, and even the frigid winds of Nena seemed to warm around them. “Guess I should file for unemployment.”

* * *

Tharion Ketos stood on the outskirts of the Meat Market, looking for his wife.

Thanks to the water sprites in her employ, the Viper Queen had apparently been able to put out the blazing main building before the fire had spread, leaving the bulk of the Meat Market’s interconnected warehouses intact.

Indeed, it seemed as if it was business as usual—albeit already adjusted to a new world. From the back of a truck, shady-looking grunts unloaded cannisters glowing with firstlight. Already stocking up on a product that would soon be in high demand.

Tharion didn’t really know why he’d come here, when Sendes had informed him that the Ocean Queen had forgiven his disobedience. In fact, she’d made him a perfectly good offer to be a commander in her forces and work aboard the Depth Charger, but he’d found himself saying he had something to do first.

And then made his way back here.

The world was in upheaval. The Asteri were gone, but there was an Imperial Senate to contend with, and Archangels, and the various House Heads, and … maybe he should have stayed on that ship.

He didn’t know why he had expected peace and comfort. Why he’d thought everyone would be happy and just … chill. But there were plenty of greedy fucks out there in the world, who were happy to use the shake-up to grab for power.

And he knew that the fuck who ruled the Meat Market was probably one of them. He’d have to contend with her at some point, probably someday soon.

But right now he needed to find his wife. Just to make sure she was okay. Then he could be on his way. Go to the Depth Charger. Or do something else, he didn’t know. He figured Ogenas would guide him at some point. Maybe help him figure out his mess of a life.

Tharion slipped on the hood of his sweatshirt, checking that the gun concealed at his side was secure and ready, and walked into the warren of the Meat Market. To whatever Urd had in store for him.

He only made it one block before a female voice said from the shadows, “You have to be ten kinds of dumb to go back in there.”

He halted, peering into the alley from which the voice had spoken. Two crimson eyes smoldered in the darkness.

Tharion inclined his head. “Hello, Ariadne.”

102

Bryce stood in the foyer of the Autumn King’s villa, surveying the field of flashing cameras, the haughty Fae nobility, and the confused-looking guards glancing between her and the crowd.

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