“I don’t want to talk about this.” Not with him, not with anyone. Fury had disappeared again, and while Juniper had messaged, Bryce kept the conversation brief. Then the calls from her mother and Randall had started. And the big lies had begun.

She didn’t know why she’d lied about Hunt’s involvement. Maybe because explaining her own idiocy in letting Hunt in—being so fucking blind to the fact that he’d led her around when everyone had warned her, that he’d even told her he would love Shahar until the day he died—was too much. It gutted her to know he’d chosen the Archangel and their rebellion over her, over them … She couldn’t talk to her mom about it. Not without completely losing what was left of her ability to function.

So Bryce had gone back to work, because what else was there to do? She’d heard nothing from the places where she’d applied for new jobs.

“I’m not talking about this,” she repeated.

“You will talk about this. With your king.” A crackling ember of his power set the firstlights guttering.

“You are not my king.”

“Legally, I am,” her father said. “You are listed as a half-Fae citizen. That places you under my jurisdiction both in this city and as a member of the House of Sky and Breath.”

She clicked her nails together. “So what is it you want to talk about, Your Majesty?”

“Have you stopped looking for the Horn?”

She blinked. “Does it matter now?”

“It is a deadly artifact. Just because you learned the truth regarding Danika and Athalar doesn’t mean whoever wishes to use it is done.”

“Didn’t Ruhn tell you? Danika stole the Horn on a lark. Ditched it somewhere in one of her flying-high-as-a-fucking-kite moments. It was a dead end.” At her father’s frown, she explained, “The kristallos were all accidentally summoned by Danika and the others who took synth, thanks to the black salt in it. We were wrong in even looking for the Horn. There was no one pursuing it.”

She couldn’t decide whom she hated more: Hunt, Danika, or herself for not seeing their lies. Not wanting to see any of it. It haunted every step, every breath, that loathing. Burned deep inside.

“Even if no enemy seeks it, it is worth ensuring that the Horn does not fall into the wrong hands.”

“Only Fae hands, right?” She smiled coldly. “I thought your Chosen One son was put on its tail.”

“He is otherwise occupied.” Ruhn must have told him to go fuck himself.

“Well, if you can think where Danika unloaded it in her synth-high stupor, I’m all ears.”