A Court of Wings and Ruin (A Court of Thorns and Roses #3) by Sarah J. Maas

The king’s taunt to Rhys had been roiling through my mind for days now.

Hybern expected him to give everything—everything—to stop them. Had claimed only that would give us a fighting shot. And I knew my mate. Perhaps better than I knew myself. I knew Rhys would spend all of himself, destroy himself, if it meant a chance at winning. At survival.

The other High Lords … I couldn’t afford to risk counting on them. Helion, strong as he was, wouldn’t even step in to save his own lover. Tarquin, perhaps. But the others … I didn’t know them. Didn’t have time to. And I would not gamble their tentative allegiance. I would not gamble Rhys.

“What do you want?” Amren snapped when I remained staring at her.

“There is a creature beneath the library. Do you know it?”

Amren shut the Book. “Its name is Bryaxis.”

“What is it.”

“You do not want to know, girl.”

I shoved back the arm of my ebony dress, the finery so at odds with the loft, its messiness. “I made a bargain with it.” I showed her the band of tattoo around my forearm. “So I suppose I do.”

Amren stood, brushing dust off her gray pants. “I heard about that. Foolish girl.”

“I had no choice. And now we are bound to each other.”

“And what of it?”

“I want to ask it for another bargain. I need you to examine the wards holding it down there—and to explain things.” I didn’t bother to look pleasant. Or desperate. Or grateful. I didn’t bother to wipe the cold, hard mask from my face as I added, “You’re coming with me. Right now.”





CHAPTER

50


There was no priestess waiting to lead us into the black pit at the heart of the library. And Amren, for once, kept quiet.

We reached that bottom level, that impenetrable dark, our steps the only sound.

“I want to talk to you,” I said into the blackness beckoning beyond the end of the light leaking down from high above.

One does not summon me.

“I summon you. I’m here to offer you company. As part of our bargain.”

Silence.

Then I felt it, snaking and curling around us, gobbling up the light. Amren swore softly.

You brought—what is it you brought?

“Someone like you. Or you could be like them.”

You speak in riddles.

A cool, insubstantial hand brushed against my nape and I tried not to inch back toward the light. “Bryaxis. Your name is Bryaxis. And someone locked you down here a long time ago.”

The darkness paused.

“I’m here to offer you another bargain.”

Amren remained still and silent, as I’d told her to, offering me a single nod of confirmation. She could indeed sever the wards holding Bryaxis down here—when the time was right.

“There is a war,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “A terrible war about to break across the land. If I can free you, will you fight for me? For me and my High Lord?”

The thing—Bryaxis—did not reply.

I nudged Amren with my elbow.

She said, her voice as young and old as the creature’s, “We will offer you freedom from this place in exchange for it.”

A bargain. A simple, powerful magic. As great as any the Book could muster.

This is my home.

I considered. “Then what is it you want in exchange?”

Silence.

Sunlight. And moonlight. The stars.

I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t entirely sure that even as High Lady of the Night Court I could promise such things, but Amren stepped on my foot and murmured, “A window. High above.”

Not a mirror, as the Carver wanted. But a window in the mountain. We’d have to carve far, far up, but—

“That’s it?”

Amren stomped on my foot this time.

Bryaxis whispered in my ear, Will I be able to hunt without restraint on the battlefields? Drink in their fear and dread until I am sated?

I felt slightly bad for Hybern as I said, “Yes—only Hybern. And only until the war is over.” One way or another.

A beat of silence. What would you have me do, then?

I gestured to Amren. “She will explain. She will disable the wards—when we need you.”

Then I will wait.

“Then it’s a bargain. You will obey our orders in this war, fight for us until we no longer need you, and in exchange … we shall bring the sun and moon and stars to you. In your home.” Another prisoner who had come to love its cell. Perhaps Bryaxis and the Carver should meet. An ancient death-god and the face of nightmares. The painting, dreadful yet alluring, began to creep roots deep within my mind.

I kept my shoulders loose, posture as casual as I could summon while the darkness slid around me, winding between me and Amren, and whispered into my ear, It is a bargain.



I made the hour count. When we all gathered in the town house foyer once more to winnow to the Illyrian camp, I’d changed into my fighting leathers, my new tattoo concealed beneath.

No one asked where I’d gone. Though Mor looked me over and said, “Where’s Amren?”

“Still poring over the Book,” I answered just as Rhys winnowed into the town house. Not a lie. Amren would stay here—until we needed her at the battlefields.

Rhys angled his head. “Looking for what? The wall is gone.”