Or did Nïx want the dainty keys Lanthe now wore? Not without a fight, Valkyrie.

Nïx murmured, “In one realm, hurt. In one realm, leave. In one realm, cleave. In one realm, shine.”

Lanthe had hurt in Pandemonia, as if the festering wounds of the past had been sliced open. At last to heal? “So here, I’m supposed to leave?”

Nïx smiled blankly.

“What are you playing at, Valkyrie?” Thronos sounded like he was struggling not to lose his temper. He must be regretting their actions as much as Lanthe did.

Ignoring him, Nïx asked Lanthe, “How’s your power coming, sorceress? You look at it as if it’s a pot that needs to be filled. When in fact, it’s a muscle that has been flexed very little.”

This news was exciting! “So the more I use it, the stronger it’ll be?”

“Use, use, rest. Use, use, use, rest. Use, use, use, use, rest—”

“I get it!”

To Thronos, the Valkyrie said, “How did you like your vacay in Pandemonia? Glad you saved up sick days? Did you feel all . . . liberated? And swagger-y? I bet that plane made your soft parts tingle.”

“Once and for all, tell me, woman: Are Vrekeners demons?”

“Tell me, man: Does it matter?” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yes! Absolutely. Are we a demonarchy?”

“What would be the difference between your life now versus if you were a demon? You’d be able to trace. Big deal.”

Lanthe could sense his steep disappointment. Because he still didn’t have the conclusive answers he sought? Or because Nïx hadn’t denied Vrekeners were demons?

“I’ll make you a deal, Thronos,” the Valkyrie said. “I’ll tell you where you really are if your mate stores something for me.”

“Stores what?” Lanthe didn’t even have a bag with her.

Nïx plucked up a curl of her lustrous dark hair, peering down at it. “This is the one, you know.”

Lanthe didn’t know. “Which one?”

“The one that enslaves all the Valkyries. The tipping point with the Scourge.”

“Okay,” Lanthe said slowly. “Your hair enslaves?” She turned to Thronos, as if he could make sense of Nïx’s ramblings.

The Valkyrie nodded. “Quite.” Baring her foreclaw, she sliced off the curl, then glanced around, muttering, “What to tie it with?” She beamed at the bat, who now had a length of string in its creepy little maw. “Why thank you, Bertil!” Nïx tied the end of the curl tight, handing it to Lanthe. “In your pocket, if you please.”

Lanthe patted down her outfit. “I don’t have a pock—” Sure enough, there was a concealed pocket in one of the leather bands of her skirt. “Okay, give it over.”

“I’m ready for an explanation, soothsayer,” Thronos told Nïx. “Melanthe and I both felt the influence of this place; there was no denying it.”

The Valkyrie’s eyes flashed like her lightning. “Or maybe you two simply wanted an excuse to have each other. Here, you were able to get around your premarital sex rule. Here, Lanthe reasoned that you couldn’t think badly of her because she would have no control over her actions.”

“Then where are we?” Thronos demanded.

A sudden rank smell wafted over Lanthe, like . . . vomit. Where had that come from?

“Very well. I’ll tell Thronos alone.” Nïx sauntered up to him, standing on tiptoe.

When he leaned down to accommodate her, putting their faces close together, a spike of irritation hit Lanthe. Jealousy? No, of course not. Still, she pointed out, “Hey, I’m part of this too!”

Whatever Nïx was whispering made Thronos’s eyes widen. When she’d finished, he straightened, looking paler than Lanthe had ever seen him. His scars whitened.

Nïx turned to her. “As much as I’d like to stay and discuss my plans for the Accession—hint: there will be wearable party favors!—I have a meeting that was penciled in one hundred and twenty-five years ago. Do take care with my lock, Lanthe.” Then the Valkyrie gazed up at the sky, her eyes swirling like mercury. A split second later, a bolt of lightning struck her.

When the smoke cleared and their eyes readjusted, Nïx was gone.

Loreans had long wondered how Nïx traveled the world(s). Lightning bolts. Who knew?

Thronos hastened to Lanthe, grabbing her shoulders.

“What’s going on?” She winced as that pain in her side flared up again. She began to feel more burns up and down her legs.

“You need to wake up with me.”

“What is wrong with you? I’m not asleep.” She glanced past him. Had the fields of flowers wavered? Her nose was now burning with that ghastly smell.

His hands tightened on her. “None of this is real. It’s a shared hallucination—so that we don’t fight our captivity.”

“Captivity?”

“That last portal took us to . . . to a treacherous place. Into the belly of a beast. It will want to keep us—immortals are a source of constantly replenishing nourishment—but we’re going to fight.”

Was he saying she was something’s food? One of her worst fears. “Y-you’re scaring me.”

“I’ll get you free, but you’ll have to create a portal directly after, or we’ll be drugged and trapped once more.”

“This isn’t funny!”