stuff. Or this case.”
Hunt, apparently, seemed to agree, because he cut in, “What if we asked the Oracle about the Horn? Maybe she could see why someone would want a broken relic.”
Bryce and Ruhn straightened. But she said, “We’d be better off going to the mystics.”
Hunt cringed. “The mystics are some dark, fucked-up shit. We’ll try the Oracle first.”
“Well, I’m not going,” Bryce said quickly.
Hunt’s eyes darkened. “Because of what happened at your visit?”
“Right,” she said tightly.
Ruhn cut in and said to Hunt, “You go, then.”
Hunt snickered. “You have a bad experience, too, Danaan?”
Bryce found herself carefully watching her brother. Ruhn had never mentioned the Oracle to her. But he just shrugged and said, “Yeah.”
Hunt threw up his hands. “Fine, assholes. I’ll go. I’ve never been. It always seemed too gimmicky.”
It wasn’t. Bryce blocked out the image of the golden sphinx who’d sat before the hole in the floor of her dim, black chamber—how that human woman’s face had monitored her every breath.
“You’ll need an appointment,” she managed to say.
Silence fell. A buzzing interrupted it, and Hunt sighed as he pulled out his phone. “I gotta take this,” he said, and didn’t wait for them to reply before striding up the stairs out of the library. A moment later, the front door to the gallery shut.
With Lehabah still watching her show behind them, Ruhn quietly said to Bryce, “Your power levels never mattered to me, Bryce. You know that, right?”
She went back to looking through Danika’s data. “Yeah. I know.” She lifted an eyebrow. “What’s your deal with the Oracle?”
His face shuttered. “Nothing. She told me everything the Autumn King wanted to hear.”
“What—you’re upset that it wasn’t something as disastrous as mine?”
Ruhn rose from his seat, piercings glittering in the firstlights. “Look, I’ve got an Aux meeting this afternoon that I need to prep for, but I’ll see you later.”
“Sure.”
Ruhn paused, as if debating saying something else, but continued toward the stairs and out.
“Your cousin is dreamy,” Lehabah sighed from her couch.
“I thought Athalar was your one true love,” Bryce said.
“Can’t they both be?”
“Considering how terrible they are at sharing, I don’t think it’ll end well for any of you.”
Her email pinged on the laptop. Since her phone was in shards in the rubble of the Raven, Hunt had emailed, Saw your cousin leave. We’re heading to the Comitium in five minutes.
She wrote back, Don’t give me orders, Athalar.
Four minutes, sweetheart.
I told you: don’t call me sweetheart.
Three minutes.
Growling, she stood from the table, rubbing her leg. Her heels were already killing her, and knowing Athalar, he’d make her walk the entire Comitium complex. Her dress would look ridiculous with a different set of shoes, but fortunately, she kept a change of clothes in the bottom drawer of the library desk, mostly in case of a rainy day that threatened to ruin whatever she was wearing.
Lehabah said, “It’s nice—to have company down here.”
Something in Bryce’s chest wrenched, but she said, “I’ll be back later.”
30
Hunt kept a casual distance from Bryce as she walked beside him through the Comitium lobby to the bank of elevators that would take them up to the 33rd’s barracks. The other elevator bays dispersed through the centralized, glass-enclosed atrium led to the four other towers of the complex: one for the City Heads’ meeting rooms and the running of Lunathion, one for Micah as both residence and official office, one for general administrative bullshit, and one for public meetings and events. Thousands upon thousands of people lived and worked within its walls, but even with the bustling lobby, Quinlan somehow managed to stand out.
She’d changed into red suede flats and a button-up white blouse tucked into tight jeans, and tied her silken mass of hair into a high ponytail that swayed sassily with every step she took, matching Hunt stride for stride.
He placed his palm against the round disk next to the elevator doors, clearing him for access to his floor thirty levels up. Usually, he flew to the barracks’ landing balcony—half for ease, half to avoid the busybodies who were now gawking at them across the lobby floor, no doubt wondering if Hunt was bringing Quinlan here to fuck her or interrogate her.
The legionary who lounged on a low-lying couch wasn’t particularly skilled in stealing covert glances at her ass. Bryce looked over a shoulder, as if some extra sense told her someone was watching, and gave the soldier a smile.
The legionary stiffened. Bryce bit her lower lip, her lashes lowering slightly.
Hunt punched the elevator button,