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“Too much power,” Sire explained as he followed in their wake.

“She drained Adrastos herself.”

Adrastos was… fuck me, that motherfucker’s well was massive. Before I’d known who stood in the throne room, I’d known better than to fuck with him if humanly possible. To render him obsolete would take… “Give her to me,” I demanded, reaching for her before he could argue. “Now.”

“Cy, I’ve got her⁠—”

“I don’t give a shit; give her to me.”

“Easy, big guy,” she rasped, but I was already moving, scooping her out of her brother’s arms. His eyes narrowed on me, his jaw hardening in a way I understood more than he likely knew. It had taken a solid year for me to trust Jo with Cali. But Freya was mine. My battle. My blessing. My burden. All of it. I wasn’t about to pass any of that off to her brother.

Heat seared into me like I’d hugged a goddamn furnace as she sank into my arms. Grimacing, I jumped, not sure we’d endure the shadows—the bare skin on my hands sure as shit wouldn’t make it, already searing.

Boots squelching in the sand, I walked right into the Atlantic. Freya gasped as the water reached her body, clinging to me as I lowered to my knees.

With a shuddering sigh, she lay back in the gentle rocking of the waves, letting her full weight settle into my stinging palms. Head tipped back, she let the next wave roll over her, submerging her face. Steam rose around us.

“Jesus,” I muttered, reluctantly shifting her weight to set her on the ground. I felt August and Sire settle on the beach behind me but didn’t bother to turn around. They’d watch our six. That was enough. “Come on, beautiful,” I coaxed, guiding her deeper into the gentle surf, watching the steam waft around her as her face relaxed, lips parted.

“Go,” she breathed.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need you to go,” she breathed.

That command hit me like a punch to the sternum. The helpless terror for her that followed was infinitely worse. We’d have words soon enough. But right now, all she needed was to siphon off some of that son of a bitch’s magic.

“You need to burn hotter, don’t you?” All she could do to answer me was nod. Muttering a curse, I said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Cyrus—”

“Ice, remember?” I cut her off. “You can’t hurt me, ma moitié.”

Hell, I could probably help her. With a deep inhale, I let my magic seep into the surrounding water, flash-freezing the surface, the dips and swells trapped in frosty sculptures. My blistered palms sighed in relief, forearms stinging from the drastic change in temperature.

Her breathy exhale was like music to my ears. I watched as Freya tipped her head back to the sky, opening her palms to either side as dark shadow fire erupted down her arms, only visible where the moon glanced off the water behind her. The water began to steam. Then it boiled. Wide-eyed, I shoved my magic against hers, fighting for supremacy over the rolling waves. No matter how much ice I erected, she was just as fast to melt it.

A plume of condensation encircled the divide between elements. Freya burned hotter, but I pushed back with every ripple of power she released into the Atlantic.

It might’ve been minutes. Maybe an hour. But finally, those glassy jades opened, and she turned to look at me, looking half-drunk as she swayed. I broke through the ice barrier between us and scooped her back into my arms. She was still warm, but no longer burning up, and this time she nestled her soaking frame into my arms like I was her salvation.

I wasn’t fucking mad about it. Not a goddamn bit.

“Easy, chérie,” I breathed, inhaling her now-smoky scent, searching until I found that faint trace of lemon. “What were you thinking?”

“August…”

“Yeah, yeah. I meant sending us away. That was some bullshit.”

“Dangerous—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Freya. You’re the one that said if I go, you go. Give me the same goddamn courtesy. Fight with me about it later, but you don’t take on the goddamn demon prince alone.”

“Not a demon,” she breathed.

“Yeah, okay,” I growled, shaking my head. “Beside the point.”

“Beside the point,” she agreed so softly I barely heard her over the lapping of the waves. Without opening her eyes, she seemed to sense when the sand softened beneath my steps, or maybe when August’s power registered with hers, because she asked, “Did it work?”