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

The Fae girl still kept back, the golden crescent moon dangling from a delicate chain across her brow glinting in the gray light. A waxing moon—until she became a full-fledged priestess upon reaching maturity, when she would trade the crescent for the full circle of Luna. And whenever her immortal body began to age and fade, her cycle vanishing with it, she would again trade the charm, this time for a waning crescent.

The priestesses all had their own reasons for offering themselves to Luna. For forsaking their lives beyond the temple grounds and embracing the goddess’s eternal maidenhood. Just as Luna had no mate or lover, so they would live.

Hunt had always thought celibacy seemed like a bore. Until Shahar had ruined him for anyone else.

Hunt offered the shrinking acolyte his best attempt at a smile. To his surprise, the Fae girl offered a small one back. The girl had courage.

Justinian Gelos answered on the sixth ring. “How’s babysitting?”

Hunt straightened. “Don’t sound so amused.”

Justinian huffed a laugh. “You sure Micah’s not punishing you?”

Hunt had considered the question a great deal in the past two days. Across the empty street, the palm trees dotting the rain-soft grasses of the Oracle’s Park shone in the gray light, the domed onyx building of the Oracle’s Temple veiled in the mists that had rolled in over the river.

Even at midday, the Oracle’s Park was near-empty, save for the hunched, slumbering forms of the desperate Vanir and humans who wandered the paths and gardens, waiting for their turn to enter the incense-filled hallways.

And if the answers they sought weren’t what they’d hoped … Well, the white-stoned temple on whose steps Hunt now stood could offer some solace.

Hunt glanced over his shoulder to the dim temple interior just visible through the towering bronze doors. In the firstlight from a row of shimmering braziers, he could just barely make out the gleam of red hair in the quiet gloom of the inner sanctum, shining like molten metal as Bryce talked animatedly with Ruhn.

“No,” Hunt said at last. “I don’t think this assignment was punishment. He was out of options and knew I’d cause more trouble if he stationed me on guard duty around Sandriel.” And Pollux.

He didn’t mention the bargain he’d struck with Micah. Not when Justinian bore the halo as well and Micah had never shown much interest in him beyond his popularity with the grunt troops of the 33rd. If there was any sort of deal to earn his freedom, Justinian had never said a word.

Justinian blew out a breath. “Yeah—shit’s getting intense around here right now. People are on edge and she hasn’t even arrived yet. You’re better off where you are.”

A glassy-eyed Fae male stumbled past the steps of the temple, got a good look at who was barring entry into the temple itself—and aimed for the street, staggering toward the Oracle’s Park and the domed building in its heart. Another lost soul looking for answers in smoke and whispers.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Hunt said. “I need you to look up something for me—an old-school demon. The kristallos. Just search through the databases and see if anything pops up.” He’d have asked Vik, but she was already busy going through the alibi footage from the Viper Queen.

“I’ll get on it,” Justinian said. “I’ll message over any results.” He added, “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Hunt admitted. In a hundred fucking ways.

Justinian added slyly, “Though it doesn’t hurt that your partner is easy on the eyes.”

“I gotta go.”

“No one gets a medal for suffering the most, you know,” Justinian pushed, his voice slipping into uncharacteristic seriousness. “It’s been two centuries since Shahar died, Hunt.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Justinian or anyone.

“It’s admirable that you’re still holding out for her, but let’s be realistic about—”

Hunt hung up. Debated throwing his phone against a pillar.

He had to call Isaiah and Micah about the Horn. Fuck. When it had gone missing two years ago, top inspectors from the 33rd and the Aux had combed this temple. They’d found nothing. And since no cameras were allowed within the temple walls, there had been no hint of who might have taken it. It had been nothing more than a stupid prank, everyone had claimed.

Everyone except for the Autumn King, it seemed.

Hunt hadn’t paid much attention to the theft of the Horn, and sure as fuck hadn’t listened during history lessons as a boy about the First Wars. And after Danika’s and the Pack of Devils’ murders, they’d had bigger things to worry about.

He couldn’t tell what was worse: the Horn possibly being a vital piece of this case, or the fact that he’d now have to work alongside Ruhn Danaan to find it.





22

Bryce waited until Hunt’s muscled back and beautiful wings had disappeared through the inner sanctum’s gates before she whirled on Ruhn. “Did the Autumn King do it?”

Ruhn’s blue eyes glimmered in his shadow-nest or whatever the fuck he called it. “No. He’s a monster in so many ways, but he wouldn’t kill Danika.”

She’d come to that conclusion the other night, but she asked, “How can you be so sure? You have no idea what the Hel his long-term agenda is.”