The first thing she noticed about the Underworld was the smell. The crisp air carried so many unfamiliar scents. It wasn’t a disagreeable odor, just … alien.

The blindfold was spelled to block all vision. She couldn’t even peek out the bottom edge at the ground. Since they’d stepped out of the ley line, her fear had evolved into burning curiosity. She was in the Underworld—one of few Overworlders to visit it and possibly the first nymph—and she wanted to see it already.

Their guides, however, were keeping to their word. They’d loaded her, Kassia, and Eryx onto a cart pulled by some sort of hooved animal she could hear—and smell. The cart moved at a decent clip, bumping along a dirt road.

In the Overworld, modern Earth technologies were almost entirely shunned. Her home realm was one of lush, beautiful wilderness, and there was no place in it for smoke-belching power plants or concrete jungles or loud, stinking gasoline engines. Daemons did just fine with magic, and though there were a few small territories that had adopted industrial-style practices, she’d never seen a place like that herself.

Judging by the animal-drawn cart and dirt roads, the Underworld was the same. She wasn’t quite sure why, but the realization was a relief. Maybe because it made this foreign world more familiar.

She, Kassia, and Eryx didn’t speak as they rattled along the unseen road. Clio kept her face tilted up as she sorted through the different scents. She could definitely smell plant life, and the prospect of seeing new species that no nymph had ever seen before was strangely exciting.

She could do this. It was an adventure, like Eryx had said. An experience of a lifetime. She just had to make sure she survived it.

Around the time she was thinking an hour had definitely passed, the cart rolled to a stop. An animal grunted noisily.

“You can remove your blindfolds.”

Clio yanked at the ties and pulled the fabric off her eyes. Disappointment stabbed her—it was too dark to see anything. Then she looked past the heads of the two horse-like creatures pulling their cart and saw the lights.

It had to be a valley, though she couldn’t see the shape of it. Far below in the distance, a thousand lights twinkled in the darkness, revealing the shapes of exotic buildings and tangled streets. The reddish-gold tones were surprisingly charming.

The driver of the cart snapped the reins and the not-quite-horses started forward again. Squished between Kassia and Eryx, Clio tried to maintain her dignity as she bounced along on the bench. The reaper and another guide rode alongside the cart on saddled beasts.

Clio peered at one through her mask. It looked mostly like a gray-spotted horse, but …

It turned its head, one ear flicking toward her. Then it opened its mouth, baring predatory fangs. She jerked back and resolved to stare straight ahead.

They rolled down a winding road, their path murky beneath the guides’ hovering light orbs. As the estate’s warm blaze grew closer and closer, she surreptitiously lifted her mask to peek out at the road ahead. Torches awaited them, illuminating a large, smooth stone arch guarded by shadowed figures. Beyond them was … a bridge?

The cart slowed again as the dark silhouettes came toward them. She was expecting soldiers, but these … men … sent a visceral shudder deep through her body.

Long black cloaks wrapped their lean bodies, and deep hoods cast impenetrable shadows over their faces. They carried curved sabers, the wide blades gleaming in the spell light. With eerie, gliding steps, the six daemons circled the cart.

Clio huddled in her seat. Reapers. They had to be reapers. And unlike her guide, they weren’t in glamour.

“State your business,” a soldier said. Despite his bored tone, his hissing voice sent another shudder through her. At her slight movement, his head turned to her and his cloak shifted. The lights should have penetrated the shadows of his hood, but his face was completely obscured—except for the glint of one blood-red eye.

Their guide wordlessly pulled a sheet of paper out of his coat. The soldier reached up, the long sleeve of his cloak swinging, and took the paper with a pale, skeletal hand, his skin waxy with horned ridges running along the protruding bones.

He glanced over it, face still hidden, then handed it back. “Very well. Continue on.”

Their guide nodded and, as the soldiers returned to their posts, the cart rolled forward again. Clio tipped her head back, taking in the arch as they passed beneath it. Magic whispered across her skin. As the thud of hooves on the dirt road changed to the clack of stone, she looked over her shoulder, bringing her asper into focus to see what sort of ward stretched across the arch.

An enraged shriek cut through the other sounds.

Clio jerked straight, clutching Kassia’s arm. A strange thundering came from above them, then another harsh cry like a woman’s scream amplified by ten. A huge shadow plunged out of the darkness, and giant feathered wings flared wide.

The horse-beasts snorted and one reared, almost throwing its rider. The monstrous winged creature swept by, banked sharply, and dove again. An orb of fiery red light appeared in the reaper’s hand, and he hurled it at the giant bird.

The attack exploded against the creature’s underbelly. The bird wheeled away with an irritated cry. The beat of its wings in the darkness faded away.

Calming his mount, the reaper twisted in his saddle. “Next time, get off your asses, would you?” he shouted back at the guards.

The nearest one, leaning against the arch, called back in his sibilant voice, “It was just one. We chased off the rest of the flock earlier.”

The rest of the flock? Clio shrank down in the cart. One had been terrifying enough.

“Lazy,” the reaper muttered, then kicked his mount back into motion.

The cart rolled after him onto the wide, gradually arching bridge that appeared to span nothing but darkness.

“What was that?” Eryx asked their driver.

“A roc. Bloody oversized pigeons. They have a taste for the deinoses.” He nodded at the horse-beasts.

It hadn’t looked like a pigeon to her. More like an impossibly mammoth eagle.

Eryx glanced at the sky. “Do they attack daemons too?”

“Sometimes, but they don’t like magic. That one was trying to spook a deinos off the bridge for an easy meal.”

No railings or barricades protected the bridge’s edge, and the splashing rush of fast-moving water, scarcely audible over the clatter of hooves, sounded very far below. What a fun place to get attacked by flying predators.

“Are the rocs that intelligent?” Eryx asked in amazement, not sounding horrified enough. “What do you—”

“Quiet down,” their friendly reaper guide interrupted in an irritated snap.

They crossed back onto the nice, solid, bumpy dirt road, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The lights were so near they filled the horizon, and she leaned forward, impatient to see the infamous estate town. A twelve-foot wall of colossal stone blocks surrounded it, the barricade interspersed with tall watch towers. Another arched entryway awaited them, protected by more cloaked reaper soldiers who checked their guide’s paper before allowing them to pass.

Inside, the light was almost blinding. The road changed from dirt to cobblestone, and the spacious boulevard was lined with streetlamps that flickered with warm firelight. Buildings bordered the streets, wood or stone with large peaked roofs and elegant, curling eaves. The center of the street was divided by a broad median planted with strange trees—thin trunks that shot straight up before forming tight, round clusters of branches with leaves that looked red in the lamplight.

As much as Clio would have loved to hate it, she couldn’t deny its beauty.

They rolled down the boulevard before reaching a broad circle with a fountain in the center. Across the circle was another arched gateway leading to a courtyard. And at the far end of the courtyard was …

“The Hades residence,” their guide informed them tonelessly.

Clio shook her head. “Residence” was a gross understatement. It was a palace. Towering main doors, elaborate architecture, multiple connected wings that she could see from the street. Definitely a palace.

Their guide turned left, leading them away from the palace, and the streets grew narrower. The lamps disappeared, filling the cramped boulevard with darkness, and alleys hardly wide enough to walk through intersected their route. The buildings leaned in close. Was it just her imagination, or were there human-shaped shadows moving in those dark alleys?

The thought had scarcely popped into her head before a shadow ambled out of an alley and into the road. Stubby legs supported a broad torso with long arms that it used to brace itself against the ground in a rolling, gorilla-like gait. But its face looked like a squashed goat, and a mess of antlers sprouted from the top of its head.

It lumbered into the middle of the street and stopped, nostrils flaring as it gazed at the cart with slitted purple eyes. Then it grinned, displaying long fangs.

“Fresh meat, reaper?” It raised its head, snorting in a deep inhalation. “Those are no Underworlders, eh?”

“Get out of the way,” their guard ordered coldly.

It barked a deep laugh and meandered the rest of the way across the street. The reaper urged his mount forward and the cart rolled after him. Clio glanced back as they passed, and the creature met her stare, its forked tongue extending from its fangs. She shuddered.

“Was that a daemon?” she whispered to Kassia. “Or a monster?”

“A daemon,” their driver answered. “Not the kind that visits Earth.”

She could see why. Human tolerance for daemons would dry up in all of five minutes if people saw creatures like that wandering around in broad daylight.

They crossed a short bridge over a canal, and the buildings changed again. She was reminded of the industrial district of a human city—large, rectangular buildings with few windows, concrete facades, and minimal greenery.

The cart rolled around a sharp bend, and she knew they had reached their destination. A small courtyard preceded the largest building she’d seen besides the palace: bulky and gray, several stories tall with a flat roof. Light shone through the windows of double doors in a recessed entryway. The building had no sign, no logo or name, but she knew what it was.

Chrysalis.

The cart stopped before the courtyard.

“This is as far as I take you,” their guide said. “They’ll summon me when you are ready to return to Earth.”

Rising stiffly, she climbed from the carriage and dropped onto the cobblestone road. She stared at her boots. Her feet were resting on the foreign earth of a different realm. Kassia hopped down, her face pale in the lights, and Eryx joined them. They clustered together, silenced by the shared realization that they were stranded in an alien world at their enemies’ mercy.

With a snap of the reins, the driver steered the cart away, and the two mounted guides trotted briskly after him. Clio carefully arranged her clothes and adjusted her mask, then looked questioningly at Kassia and Eryx. They nodded grimly.

This was it.

She strode toward the broad double doors of the imposing gray facade. Eryx darted ahead of her and grabbed a door, pulling it open. Harsh light spilled out and Clio squinted, momentarily blinded. She stepped across the threshold, and for a second, she thought she was somehow back on Earth.

The reception area was excessively roomy, with scattered groups of comfortable chairs, and half a dozen different corridors and doors joined the large area. White-tiled floors, white walls, and white fluorescent lights gave the whole space a sterile feel, but the effect was softened by a dozen potted plants and the dark wood of a large reception desk where three female daemons sat. This building was not electricity-free, though Clio had seen no signs of modern technology on the ride through Asphodel.

Two people sat on nearby chairs, bent over a sheet of paper and talking in low voices. Another group of three—two men in white lab coats and a woman—stood near a wide corridor, chatting casually. Another handful were crossing from one hall to another, and Clio guessed this area was an intersection of multiple wings of the sweeping building. To her relief, they all looked perfectly normal—daemons in proper glamour, with no skeletal hands, antlers, or forked tongues.

At her appearance, however, every one of them stopped to stare blatantly. The silence was thick enough to choke.

With Kassia and Eryx flanking her, Clio did her best queenly glide to the reception desk. The woman in the center, her brown hair cut in a short bob that didn’t complement her plain features, watched them approach with her mouth hanging open.

Clio stopped in front of the desk, draped in dramatic layers of fabric, her jeweled accessories glittering in the harsh lights, her face mostly hidden. She waited silently.

The woman cleared her throat. “You must be the envoy from Irida. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Chrysalis.”

Despite her words of welcome, the woman’s tone was cool, bordering on hostile.

“We’re looking forward to doing business here,” Clio replied formally.

The woman snapped her fingers at the receptionist on her left, a younger woman with pouty lips and ashy hair. “Nylah, their file.”

Tearing her stare away from Clio, Nylah grabbed a plain brown folder and handed it over. Around them, the other occupants of the room gradually resumed their interrupted activities.

The head receptionist flipped the folder open and skimmed the first page. “Yes, yes,” she murmured absently. “Ah, I see we have not received your initial payment yet?”

Clio nodded and pulled a small bag from a hidden pocket in her sleeve. The bag’s heavy green silk was embroidered with the Nereid family crest of a blossom circled by a leafy vine and a gemstone in the center. She set it on the desk as casually as possible. The receptionist lifted the bag, pulled the drawstring, and upended it, emptying the contents into her palm. The other two women gasped softly.

Ten uncut diamonds, each twenty carats and the size of a small grape, sparkled in a luminescent rainbow.

Clio glanced at the precious stones and pretended it didn’t matter that Bastian was sacrificing them for this mission. If she failed, it would be for nothing. The receptionist feigned disinterest as she slid the diamonds back in the pouch, showing more care than she had when she’d dumped them out.

She set the bag aside and returned her attention to the folder. “Your consultant has already reviewed your proposal. I’ll call him up and he will take you to—” She broke off, her gaze fixed on the paper. “What? This can’t be right.”

An explosion of panic threatened to rupture Clio’s belly. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no. Just one moment please.” The receptionist forced a smile, then turned to her coworker and grabbed the girl’s arm, pulling her a few paces away.

Clio held perfectly still, projecting composure.

“What is this?” the receptionist hissed at Nylah, loud enough that Clio could make out the words, as she brandished the folder. “This is wrong. Who is their consultant?”

“No, it’s right,” Nylah whispered, tugging ineffectively at her arm, still in the other woman’s grip. “I delivered his copy of the file myself.”

“But why is he doing a consultation?”

“I don’t know. Did you expect me to question them?”

The receptionist exhaled harshly. “Call him, then.”

As Nylah hurried over to an intercom panel behind the desk, the receptionist turned back around, unaware that Clio had heard everything.

“Is there a problem?” she asked again.

“Not at all. In fact, you should be quite pleased. It seems one of our esteemed master weavers will assist you today. I can assure you that is an honor normally reserved for our most prominent clients.”

Clio’s brow scrunched, her expression hidden by her mask. A master weaver? Her nerves prickled, and despite the receptionist’s assurances that they should be “honored,” Clio didn’t feel particularly pleased.

“You may take a seat. He’ll be here momentarily.”

Turning, Clio glided to a cluster of chairs surrounding a round coffee table but didn’t sit. A potted tree with silvery leaves partially blocked the view of the reception desk, offering a bit of privacy. She tugged her sleeves straight as her nervousness sharpened into real anxiety.

“A master weaver,” Eryx whispered. “I guess they really want our business.”

“What exactly did Bastian’s proposal say?” Clio whispered back.

“We’re looking for spellcrafted weaponry suited for war, and we’re open to trading a large surplus of high-quality lodestones as payment.”

A lodestone was any crystal or ore used to store magic reserves or weavings. Diamonds were the best lodestones, which was why Bastian had chosen them as the down payment for Clio’s entrance into Chrysalis. Irida was a wealthy territory because of the rich deposits of precious stones they mined. Because of the amount of magic they produced, Chrysalis needed large quantities, so they had more than enough motivation to engage in trade with Irida.

The diamonds Clio had handed over were a fraction of the payment Chrysalis would demand for their warfare magic. Her job was to start negotiations, see as much of their magic as she could in the process, then agree to a deal and return home. Once she was safely back in Irida, Bastian would ensure the final negotiations fell through, and no further payments would be made. But Irida would have everything they needed—for the cost of ten expensive lodestones instead of hundreds.

She adjusted her mask, its gems sparkling as a clear demonstration of Irida’s wealth. Bastian knew exactly how to play his cards with these people, and he’d done everything he could to set her up for success, but she didn’t feel remotely prepared. The consultant would see right through her. He’d know in an instant she was an imposter. The irrational fear that someone would tear her mask off and shout the truth for the whole building to hear was growing stronger by the minute.

As her anxiety climbed, she looked around for a distraction. The decorative tree caught her attention. Stepping closer, she pinched a broad, silvery leaf between her fingers, examining its dark veins and waxy texture, then pushed leaves aside to peer at the thin branches.

“Clio, what are you doing?”

She didn’t glance back at Kassia’s exasperated whisper as she traced the smooth bark. “Looking at this tree. It’s fascinating.”

“Don’t you think you should—”

She bent down to check the soil. Wet loam met her touch. Interesting. Was the earth outside similar, or was the tree from a different part of the Underworld?

“Clio,” Kassia hissed. “Get up.”

“One more second. I just want to see …” She dug into the dirt, searching for the roots. The shape, color, and texture of the leaves suggested a damp, low-light environment, but the roots would confirm—

“Clio.”

This time, Kassia’s tone wasn’t sharp with exasperation. Instead, it was somehow alarmed, amazed, and breathless all at once.

Clio shot up. Her head hit the low branches of the tree and the impact sent the narrow pot rocking. She grabbed wildly for the thin trunk as the whole thing toppled over. The tree hit the floor and the ceramic pot shattered, spilling dirt across the pristine white tiles.

She froze, hands extended toward the tree she’d failed to catch. Utter silence had fallen over the entire space—again.

Then, finally, someone spoke.

“So … is this part of your negotiation strategy? Because I’m really not sure what you’re going for here.”

For a few seconds that lasted an eternity, all she registered was the tantalizing familiarity of that impossibly sexy voice. And then it hit her where she’d heard it before.

No. No way. It was not possible.

She’d heard it only once, but the memory had repeated itself in her dreams every night for two weeks. There was no way she could mistake those deep, purring, melting tones for anyone else.

But there was no way he would be here.

She spun around, and there he was, standing just beyond the circle of chairs, one hand tucked in the pocket of his lab coat, the other holding a thin blue binder. Golden-brown skin, pale blond hair in a sexy tousle, and the impossibly perfect face of a god. And those eyes. Bright amber rimmed with a dark patina like ancient gold.

His irresistible lips were curved in a smirk, and she stared, her mouth hanging open. Why was he here? Who was he?

He spoke again, which was good, because she was on the verge of shrieking hysterical questions for the whole room to hear.

“Welcome to Chrysalis.” Sounding inexpressibly bored, he glanced over her outfit. “I’m your consultant, Lyre. If you—”

“You’re our consultant?” Eryx interrupted.

Clio jolted out of her daze. Kassia was gawking at the incubus like he was an apparition—or every fantasy she’d ever had brought to life. Clio felt the same way. Lyre. So that was his name.

“Yes,” he said to Eryx.

“But you’re an incubus.”

Clio stiffened a second time at the condescending sneer in Eryx’s tone.

Lyre’s smirk reappeared. “Jealous, are we?”

Eryx’s eyes bulged. “Like hell!”

“You’re in hell, Overworlder, so watch your step.” The dark menace in his tone vanished as he ran his fingers through his hair, casually canting his head to one side with the motion. “Though, feel free to continue. It will be more entertaining for me.”

Clio realized she might have swooned when he’d done the hand-through-hair thing. Holy shit. Giving her head a shake, she stepped in front of Eryx before he could say anything else stupid.

“We’re looking forward to doing business here,” she blurted. She’d said that already, hadn’t she? Every time the incubus spoke, her thoughts scattered. His voice should be illegal. “Could, uh, I mean—we require a moment.”

He raised an eyebrow but before he could speak—and scramble her brain again—she walked away, desperately hoping Kassia and Eryx would follow. She could have cried in relief when they both stalked after her.

“What’s the matter with you, Eryx?” she hissed, stopping abruptly. “Why are you insulting him?”

“He can’t be a master weaver,” Eryx spat. “Incubi are only good for whoring women. They have no magical skill.”

Clio looked to Kassia for help, but the other woman was staring blankly in Lyre’s direction.

“So that’s an incubus?” She sounded a little dreamy. “I see why you were distracted by the one two weeks ago.”

“Kass, that’s the same incubus.”

She snapped to attention. “What?”

“It’s the same one. I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t believe it. Did he recognize you?”

Clio lightly touched her mask, truly grateful she’d worn it. “I don’t think so.”

“If he recognizes you from the shop, he’ll realize you aren’t an envoy. He might suspect you’re a spy. We should abort.”

“Abort?” Eryx yelped. “Now?”

“We’ve come this far. Leaving now would be more suspicious. I’ll make sure to keep my mask on.” Clio jabbed Eryx in the arm. “You can keep your mouth shut. I’ll do the talking.”

Not giving him a chance to argue, she returned to the incubus, her garments flowing dramatically. He watched her approach, either amused or bored. Maybe both?

“My apologies,” she told him.

“Not a problem,” he said tonelessly. Yep, he was bored. “As I was saying, we have a meeting room already prepared, so—”

“Wait,” she said, almost panicking. She needed to see their spells, and that wouldn’t happen in a meeting room. “I need to—I want a tour first.”

He blinked. “A tour?”

“Yes. Being Overworlders, most of what we know about Chrysalis is secondhand information. I want to see the facility and the kinds of spellcrafting you produce before we discuss anything.”

“A tour,” he repeated. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Fine. I’ll give you a tour.” His gaze fixed on Kassia and Eryx. “But not them.”

“W-what?”

“We don’t show off our work to just anyone. I’ll make an exception for you, but that’s it.”

“But these—they—they’re part of Irida’s envoy and—”

“They’re not even nymphs,” he said dismissively. “You are the envoy.”

“I—I insist they accompany me.”

“No tour then.”

She gritted her teeth. “If you won’t cooperate, then we’ll just—”

“You’ll what?” He leaned closer and she completely forgot what she’d been saying. “You’ll take your business to the competition? I’ll let you in on a little secret: we have no competition. So let’s be honest with each other, hmm? You aren’t going anywhere.”

She squeezed her hands together. The “intimidation” factor of her costume was clearly lost on him.

She needed to see more of the facility, and the incubus wasn’t budging on his terms. But without Kassia and Eryx, she would be helpless and far too vulnerable. Her doing anything alone in the Underworld hadn’t been part of the plan, let alone wandering through the bowels of Chrysalis where she could vanish forever.

But Chrysalis wanted Irida’s business. Wasn’t that why they’d assigned a master weaver—assuming Lyre was one—to negotiate with her?

She lifted her chin. “Very well. Let’s go.”

The incubus smiled, triggering a wave of butterflies in her belly that could have been exhilaration or terror. She had no idea which.