House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) by Sarah J. Maas

Standing against the wall, dissecting each word spoken, was its own form of torture, but Hunt listened. Paid attention, even when it seemed like so many others were fighting sleep.

He hoped the delegations who held out—the Fae, the mer, the witches—would last until the end of the Summit before remembering that control was an illusion and the Asteri could simply issue an edict regarding the new trade laws. Just as they had with the war update.

A few more days, that was all Hunt wanted. That’s what he told himself.





76

Bryce had camped out in the gallery library for the past three days, staying well after closing and returning at dawn. There was no point in spending much time at the apartment, since her fridge was empty and Syrinx was always with her. She figured she might as well be at the office until she stopped feeling like her home was just an empty shell.

Jesiba, busy with the Summit, didn’t check the gallery video feeds. Didn’t see the takeout containers littering every surface of the library, the mini fridge mostly full of cheese, or the fact that Bryce had started wearing her athletic clothes into the office. Or that she’d begun showering in the bathroom in the back of the library. Or that she’d canceled all their client meetings. And taken a new Archesian amulet right from the wall safe in Jesiba’s office—the very last one in the territory. One of five left in the entire world.

It was only a matter of time, however, until Jesiba got bored and pulled up the dozens of feeds to see everything. Or looked at their calendar and saw all the rescheduled appointments.

Bryce had heard back about two potential new jobs, and had interviews lined up. She’d need to invent some excuse to feed Jesiba, of course. A medwitch appointment or teeth cleaning or something else normal but necessary. And if she got one of those jobs, she’d have to come up with a plan for repaying her debt for Syrinx—something that would please Jesiba’s ego enough to keep her from transforming Bryce into some awful creature just for asking to leave.

Bryce sighed, running a hand over an ancient tome full of legal jargon that required a degree to decipher. She’d never seen so many ergos and therefores and hence the followings and shall be included but not limited tos. But she kept looking.

So did Lehabah. “What about this, BB?” The sprite flared, pointing to a page before her. “It says here, A criminal’s sentence may be commuted to service if—”

“We saw that one two days ago,” Bryce said. “It leads us right back to slavery.”

A faint scratching filled the room. Bryce glanced at the nøkk from under her lashes, careful not to let him see her attention.

The creature was grinning at her anyway. Like it knew something she didn’t.

She found out why a moment later.

“There’s another case beneath it,” Lehabah said. “The human woman was freed after—”

Syrinx growled. Not at the tank. At the green-carpeted stairs.

Casual footsteps thudded. Bryce was instantly standing, reaching for her phone.

A pair of boots, then dark jeans, and then—

Snow-white wings. An unfairly beautiful face.

Micah.

Every thought short-circuited as he stepped into the library, surveying its shelves and the stairs leading to the brass mezzanines and alcoves, the tank and the nøkk who was still grinning, the exploding-sun light high above.

He couldn’t be down here. Couldn’t see these books—

“Your Grace,” Bryce blurted.

“The front door was open,” he said. The sheer power behind his stare was like being hit in the face with a brick.

Of course the locks and enchantments hadn’t kept him out. Nothing could ever keep him out.

She calmed her racing heart enough to say, “I’d be happy to meet with you upstairs, Your Grace, if you want me to phone Jesiba.”

Jesiba, who is at the Summit where you are currently supposed to be.

“Down here is fine.” He slowly stalked over to one of the towering shelves.

Syrinx was shaking on the couch; Lehabah hid behind a small stack of books. Even the animals in their various cages and small tanks cowered. Only the nøkk kept smiling.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Your Grace?” Bryce said, scooping takeout containers into her arms, not caring if she got chili oil on her white T-shirt, only that Micah got the fuck away from the shelves and those precious books.

He ignored her, examining the titles at eye level.

Urd save her. Bryce dumped the takeout containers into the overflowing trash can. “We have some fascinating art upstairs. Perhaps you can tell me what you’re looking for.” She glanced at Lehabah, who had turned a startling shade of cyan, and shook her head in a silent warning to be careful.

Micah folded his wings, and turned to her. “What I’m looking for?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I—”

He pinned her with those icy eyes. “I’m looking for you.”

Today’s meeting was by far the worst. The slowest.

Sandriel delighted in leading them in circles, lies and half-truths spewing from her lips, as if savoring the kill soon to come: the moment they yielded everything to her and the Asteri’s wishes.

Hunt leaned against the wall, standing between the Asterian Guards in their full regalia, and watched the clock inch toward four. Ruhn looked like he’d fallen asleep half an hour ago. Most of the lower-level parties had been dismissed, leaving the room barely occupied. Even Naomi had been sent back to Lunathion to make sure the 33rd remained in shape. Only skeleton staff and their leaders remained. As if everyone now knew this was over. That this republic was a sham. Either one ruled or one bowed.