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“They’re jokes, Daedra. Meant to be funny.”

Daedra lifted her chin. “There is nothing funny about Hell’s Fist.”

“Yeah, but do you think he has a dick?” Fenrir asked, “And do you think he calls it his boner?”

Daedra snorted, a vicious, lovely sound.

Fenrir grinned and rocked back on the legs of his chair. “I knew you could do it.”

He could swear that was a blush painting Daedra’s cheeks.

Quiet unfolded, strangely comfortable despite the cell. Daedra watched him from her place atop her cot, breath even and steady while Fenrir felt his own slow to match hers. It could have been awkward—rightfully should have been—but as birdsong drifted through the open window and a cool breeze swept scents of pine and rain and horse into the room, Fenrir discovered himself relaxing for the first time in days.

Daedra didn’t have any expectations of him. Daedra didn’t have an ulterior motive because the mission that had brought her here had already been accomplished. She didn’t expect him to be anything other than the quarry she’d failed to hunt. Not an enemy. Not a friend. Certainly not a son.

Not a king.

“Can I ask you something?”

Across the room, Daedra nodded.

“Do you think they’ll kill Orpheus?”

Fenrir thought it curious she took her time to answer.

“Atticus is ruthless, but no monster,” she eventually said. “So long as your mage best serves him alive, he will not kill him.”

“Atticus,” Fenrir repeated, finally getting a name for the person who had haunted his every thought since Orpheus disappeared. And what a fucking name, like something out of a book—one he thought may be on Orpheus’ library shelf. “What does he want from Orpheus?”

Daedra swallowed, eyes meeting Fenrir’s as if weighing the danger of telling him anything more. “They need Netherflame to power their city. When the chasm closed, the city died, and now they suffer. Your mage can help restore it.”

It was exactly as Red said. A city, hidden deep within the Rim. A city that ran off Netherflame…

“How did humans build something like that?” he wondered.

“They didn’t, Ama. The Myrkur did.”

Fenrir’s expression must have said it all because Daedra rolled her eyes. “Sanctuary is an ancient Myrkur city, abandoned for millennia. You humans stole it, though we never quite understood why. Not until I came here in pursuit of Ohm.”

“Shit.” That was more information than anything Daedra had shared yet. None of it would help Orpheus directly, but Fenrir finally had confirmation his suspicions were right. “A city full of humans, right?”

Daedra sneered. “Of course.”

“Well, I mean…” He gestured at Daedra. “Not like you’ve been exactly forthcoming with details.”

“You’re in luck, I’m also very bored.”

Fenrir grinned. “Flipping loyalties already?”

Daedra sniffed. “My loyalty is to my people. I have no interest in petty human squabbling.”

“So, you aren’t trying to protect this Atticus person?”

“There are others I care about more, whose protection depends upon him.”

Others. Humans? Who?

“The person I care about most is currently in danger of dying all because of this Atticus.”