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“We’re not leaving that thing alive in the world,” Azriel said with quiet venom. Nesta unsheathed Ataraxia, the blade glowing faintly. Her demeanor was calm, as if this was all in a day’s work.
Solas burn her. Randall would kill her for being so stupid. “You lured me here.”
Nesta nodded to Azriel, who withdrew his blade but kept a hand on Bryce’s shoulder, either to prevent her from moving or to hold her steady in the river’s current. “You saved me from the traps in the walls. It only made sense that you’d have a guilty conscience to go with that soft heart.”
Scratch that: her mother would kill her for being so stupid.
“I—” Bryce began, but Nesta said, “Save it.”
The sharp tone was enough to make Bryce peer into the river’s darkness, the tunnel on either side. Even the call of the Starsword and Truth-Teller became secondary as she asked, “How did it disappear?”
“Deep pits in the riverbed,” Azriel murmured. “It got one whiff of Nesta’s power and dove into one. But from the shaking of the stone … it’s staying close. Watching us.”
“Then why the fuck are we standing in the river?”
Nesta smirked at her. “Bait.”
* * *
Make your brother proud.
The Viper Queen might as well have shot Ithan in the fucking gut. Like she knew precisely how ashamed Connor would have been of how far he’d fallen.
“What’s she going to do about Sabine?” Tharion asked Ithan as he entered the suite once more. Right—he’d told them that was what he wanted to learn from her.
“Nothing,” Ithan said.
Sigrid sat on the couch beside Declan, watching his fingers fly over his phone.
“Where’s Marc?” Ithan asked.
“Pulled the lawyer privileges card,” Flynn answered for Dec. “Fed the guards some crap about legal stuff. He got a message from the Viper Queen a minute after you left, saying he was free to go.”
So that was what the Viper Queen had been typing on her computer.
“Go where?”
“To his firm,” Dec said, still focusing on his phone. “He’s going to look into whether there’s a legal way to get us all out of this shitshow.”
“I might have a solution for that,” Ithan said. They all looked at him.
Tharion asked quietly, “What did she offer you, pup?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Tharion stood from the table by the fighting ring window. “Did you—”
“One fight—from me. Tomorrow night.”
Sigrid’s eyes widened. “What sort of fight?”
Ithan pointed to the window behind Tharion. “One of her fancy ones. Down there.”
“Did she say who?” He’d never seen Ketos’s face so serious. “You should have made her specify. She’s going to screw you over—screw us all over somehow.” Tharion’s voice sharpened. “What the Hel were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” Ithan shot back, “that you made a stupid choice, and I was trying to get you out of it. Get us all out of this mess.”
Tharion blinked at him, eyes dark. Cold. “I didn’t ask you to get me out of it. You think I can just walk out of here? I can’t.”
