“Why are you upside down?”

Lyre tilted his head backward to bring the doorway into view. Miysis strolled inside, his eyebrows high above jewel-like chartreuse eyes.

“Do you ever knock?” Lyre shot back, not moving from his position on the lounge—lying on the seat, legs propped on the back cushion, head hanging off the edge as he held a sheet of paper in front of his face.

“You can learn all sorts of interesting things about people when you walk in on them,” Miysis replied unapologetically.

“And no one can complain because you’re a prince, huh?”

“One of my favorite perks.” He stopped beside Lyre and looked down at him. “What are you doing?”

Lyre waved the paper. “Sometimes looking at something from a different angle helps me think.”

“Couldn’t you have just turned the paper upside down?”

“I’m not looking at the paper upside down. That would be useless.”

Miysis shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

Lyre shrugged and pulled his legs off the back of the lounge chair. He’d almost figured out the next part of the mirror weaving Clio had helped him embed in the quicksilver, but the exact way to bind all the pieces together still eluded him.

Sitting up, he tossed the paper onto his stack of notes on the nearby table. “Why are you here? I thought you had a lightning thing to attend.”

As though to emphasize his point, thunder cracked so loudly the porcelain vases in the corner rattled. The drapes of the much smaller window-wall of his new room were tied back to protect them from the erratic wind, and the sky beyond was unbroken black except for the occasional flash of light deep within the boiling clouds that covered the city.

His new accommodations weren’t nearly as grand as his previous room, despite being on a higher level of the citadel. He was guessing this room was intended for a lady-in-waiting or a nobleman’s valet—still nice, but much more utilitarian. The plush lounge chair looked like a recent addition pulled from some other room.

“I’ve been invited to about fifteen parties,” Miysis answered as more thunder rumbled. “And I need to drop in on at least five so I don’t mortally wound any noble feelings.”

Lyre snorted. “The burdens of royal blood.”

Miysis picked up a paper from Lyre’s stack and glanced at it curiously. “What language is this? It looks like gibberish.”

“It is gibberish—unless you know how to read it.”

“You write in code?”

“A habit I started a long time ago to keep other weavers from stealing my work.” He plucked the paper out of the prince’s hand and dropped it back on the pile. “What brings you to my humble quarters while all those fragile noble feelings are waiting to be assuaged?”

“My room is about twenty yards down the hall, so it’s not out of my way. I stopped to make sure you had everything you needed.” He smirked. “And to assure you that the lovely Clio is in the middle of a deep heart-to-heart conversation with her father, so there’s no need for you to wander the halls looking for her.”

Lyre’s mouth curved in an answering half smile to hide his instant alertness. He knew Clio’s extended stay in his room hadn’t gone unnoticed, but he couldn’t begin to guess what Miysis might do with the information.

“So, you decided to keep me company instead?” he asked archly.

“That wasn’t my plan.”

Lyre let his voice slide into the deep purr that made most women blush. “You’d have way more fun with me than with those stuffy noblemen.”

Miysis merely raised an eyebrow as though the innuendo had gone right over his head. “I don’t doubt it, but duty calls. By the way, what does King Rouvin know about you?”

Lyre slouched back on the lounge, his gaze running over the prince from head to toe. He couldn’t tell if Miysis was secretly interested in a romp with an incubus or just had an excellent poker face. Either way, Lyre’s attempt to distract him from Clio-related topics hadn’t worked.

“Rouvin knows I exist,” he answered, “but we’ve never met and, unless Clio has told him, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“I’ll make sure not to mention you then.” Miysis leaned against a marble pillar, his wings tucked behind him. “I suppose the Iridian king is also blissfully ignorant of the fact that his daughter spent the better part of her visit here locked in your room?”

Lyre raised his eyebrows innocently. “Like I said, I’ve never met the king. I have no idea what he knows or doesn’t know.”

The griffin’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I had been wondering if incubi’s reputation for insatiable appetites was exaggerated, but I see my skepticism was misplaced.” His expression sobered again. “Speaking of reputations, have you considered that you’re treading on dangerous sands? King Rouvin isn’t likely to approve of his daughter taking an Underworlder as a lover, let alone an incubus.”

“I don’t particularly care what he thinks.”

“Your contempt for authority aside, that’s a perilous attitude. He may not inspire terror like other monarchs, but he has enough power to make you disappear.”

Lyre would have liked to reply that the nymph king would have a difficult time frightening him when he had the likes of Samael Hades—to say nothing of Lyceus—hunting him already, but he merely shrugged.

His concerns shared, Miysis snapped his wings open and closed. “Well, at least you can cross ‘illicit royal lover’ off your bucket list.”

Lyre blinked in surprise, then barked a laugh. “I guess I can.”

“Clio may find future palace life stifling after her recent adventures. I doubt she’ll find many daring lovers in Irida’s capital.”

Another of Miysis’s searching observations. Lyre waved a hand as though it didn’t matter to him at all, reinforcing his caste’s promiscuous reputation.

“What about you, prince?” he purred enticingly, diverting the topic once again. “How many daring lovers have you encountered in the course of duty?”

Miysis smiled—a heated smile that caught Lyre off guard. Bracing his hand on the cushion beside Lyre’s head, the griffin leaned down until their faces were close. “I’ve found a few here and there.”

Lyre looked into those darkening green eyes and wondered who was playing who. Letting sensuousness slide into his body language, he touched a finger to the pattern inked on Miysis’s stomach, then slowly traced the circular design.

The griffin didn’t so much as twitch. Hmm. His poker face was damn good.

“I thought you were expected elsewhere,” Lyre crooned softly.

“They can wait.” Miysis leaned closer. “What if I’ve decided I want your company after all?”

Lyre pressed his palm flat against Miysis’s stomach. “Only one problem,” he purred. “You don’t actually want me.”

Surprise flickered in the prince’s eyes.

“I’m not a truth-seer like you, but attraction and seduction are my primary weapons.” He gave Miysis’s muscled stomach a slight push. “And you, prince, have something else in mind besides a turn in my bed.”

Miysis straightened and stepped back. Not a trace of embarrassment touched his features. “You’re more cunning than I expected.”

“Why, thank you.” Lyre slung an arm over the back of the chair. “So, what are you really after?”

Miysis shrugged. “I wanted to know how serious you are about Clio. She has stars in her eyes for you.”

“Why do you care if I break her heart? You barely know her.”

The griffin sat on the edge of the lounge beside Lyre. “Her new life will be challenging enough without an affair with an incubus blackening her reputation on day one.”

He didn’t let the sick drop of his stomach show on his face. “That doesn’t answer why you care.”

Miysis looked up at the ceiling. “The honest truth? Prince Bastian has been impossible to deal with for years, but Clio is a blank slate. She has the potential to wield significant influence in Irida, and if I win her over early, it would give me a substantial advantage in maintaining our kingdoms’ relations.”

Huh. Lyre was pretty sure that was the first time Miysis had shared the full scope of his thoughts on anything—and the insight was both intriguing and worrying.

“You’re more cunning than I thought as well,” he murmured. Miysis had seen an opportunity with Clio and he’d gone after it from their first interaction. How much of his compassion was genuine and how much was ambition?

“I have no intention of betraying her trust,” the prince added, his charming smile reappearing. “I would just prefer to cement it early.”

Laughing quietly, Lyre shook his head. “You’re not a bad guy, Miysis, but damn. You’re a manipulative tyrant, you know that?”

“I object to the ‘tyrant’ part.”

Snorting, Lyre pushed to his feet. He may have underestimated Miysis’s capacity for calculated manipulations, but he didn’t doubt his overall assessment of the prince. From what Lyre had seen, Miysis held himself to a high standard of personal integrity. He was genuinely charming and compassionate, even if he used that to his advantage.

He hoped the young Ra royal could hold on to that honor and integrity as he aged into his role. “Aren’t you going to be late to your lightning parties?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much derision in two words.”

“Well, I mean, come on.” Lyre gestured toward the dark window, where flickers of lightning illuminated the clouds. Thunder rolled almost nonstop, but it wasn’t particularly loud or impressive. “I’ve seen more entertaining gusts of wind.”

Miysis rose to his feet, arching his back and stretching his wings wide. “Your window is facing the wrong direction.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll show you. Come on.”

Dubious, Lyre followed Miysis out into the grand corridor, lined with marble pillars and potted trees. The prince’s bodyguards stood stone-faced by the wall and followed silently as Miysis led Lyre to a set of double doors. The prince carelessly shoved one door open and strode inside.

If Lyre’s previous suite had been luxurious, he didn’t know how to describe this apartment. Twenty-foot ceilings, a loft accessed by stairs with an elaborate golden balustrade, black-and-white marble floors, rich décor, wide-open space.

He gave up trying to take it all in and followed Miysis to the far end, where heavy drapes bucked in the wind. The prince pulled one open, and Lyre stepped up to the stone parapet, the arched windows offering a hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the city.

But it was the sky that commanded his attention.

Black clouds roiled for as far as he could see, and lightning ripped through them in a nonstop display. Sheets of white light blasted through the towering storm, and gargantuan bolts slammed into the dunes with a thousand thinner branches snaking in every direction. Dark mist streaked toward the ground where rain poured onto the distant sand, and powerful winds howled across the citadel tower, whipping at his clothes.

The constant roll of thunder now made sense. The electric explosion was ceaseless, engulfing the entire sky in a spectacular and terrifying demonstration of nature’s power.

His jaw hung open. He’d never been afraid of thunderstorms before but he had the sudden urge to find a nice quiet basement and stay there until morning.

“It’s moving this way,” Miysis observed with no sign of concern. “The wind will worsen and it may rain over the city. We’ll have to see.”

“Your walls have giant holes,” Lyre pointed out, waving at the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the entire wall. The drapes on one side billowed, the other panel trying to tug free of Miysis’s hold. “Won’t the storm make a mess of things?”

“Servants are installing wall panels across the windows on the other floors. I asked them to do my room last. I enjoy the fresh air and I don’t mind a little mess.”

“Probably because you don’t have to clean it.”

“The lightning fetes are held in courtyards and on rooftops, and getting rained out is considered good luck for—”

Miysis broke off at the quiet clatter of something rolling across the floor. They both looked down as a sparkling gem tumbled to a stop at their feet. Green magic spun across the marble tiles, then the spell erupted in a crackling blaze.

Lyre leaped clear at the last moment, but Miysis crumpled beneath the wave of light, paralyzed. At the sight of the binding weave, shock rippled through Lyre, followed by fury. He recognized that spell.

He’d invented it.