House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

Ruhn refrained from mentioning that Cormac had suggested something different. He’d said Ophion wanted to attain the suit—to study it. And use those weapons in their war. “Where’s the best place to intercept?”

He was really doing this, apparently. Pass this intel along, and he was officially aligning himself with the rebels.

“That’s for Ophion Command to decide.”

He asked carefully, “Will Pippa Spetsos be assigned to the hit?” Or was she in Lunathion looking for Emile, as Tharion suspected?

“Does it matter?”

Ruhn shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Just want to know whether we need to notify her.”

“I’m not privy to who Command sends on their missions.”

“Do you know where Pippa Spetsos is right now, though?”

Her flame guttered for a moment. “Why do you have such interest in her?”

He held up his hands. “No interest at all.” He could sense her suspicion, though, so he asked, “Will there be armed guards with the shipment?”

“Yes. About a hundred wolves in and atop the cars, along with a dozen aerial angel scouts above. All armed with rifles, handguns, and knives.”

Forested areas would be best for a strike, then, to avoid being seen by the malakim.

“Anything else?”

She angled her head. “None of this bothers you?”

“I’ve been in the Aux for a while. I’m used to coordinating shit.” Nothing like this, though. Nothing that put him firmly in the Asteri’s line of fire.

“That’s a stupid thing to reveal. Ophion must have been desperate, if they sent someone as untrained as you to deal with me.”

“Trust is a two-way street.” He gestured to the space between them.

Another one of those soft laughs raked over his skin. “Do you have anything for me? What’s this business with Pippa Spetsos?”

“Nothing at all. But—thanks for trying to save my ass earlier.”

“I’d be a fool to let a valuable contact go to waste.”

He bristled. “I’m touched.”

She snorted. “You sound like a male used to being obeyed. Interesting.”

“What the Hel is interesting about it?”

“The rebels must have something on you, to make you risk your position by doing this.”

“I thought you didn’t give a shit about my personal life.”

“I don’t. But knowledge is power. I’m curious about who you might be, if the Reapers tried to grab you. And why you allow the rebels to push you around.”

“Maybe I wanted to join.”

She laughed, the sound sharp as a blade. “I’ve found that the ruling class rarely do such things out of the kindness of their hearts.”

“Cynical.”

“Perhaps, but it’s true.”

“I could name a highly placed Vanir who’s helping the rebels without being forced into it.”

“Then they should put a bullet in your head.”

Ruhn stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She waved a hand. “If you know their identity, if you’re able to so blithely boast about it, if you are asking too many questions about Agent Spetsos, you’re not an asset at all. You’re a loose cannon. If the dreadwolves catch you, how long will it take for you to sing that person’s name?”

“Fuck off.”

“Have you ever been tortured? It’s easy for people to claim they wouldn’t break, but when your body is being pulled apart piece by piece, bone by bone, you’d be surprised what people offer to get the pain to stop, even for a second.”

Ruhn’s temper flared. “You don’t know shit about me or what I’ve been through.” He was grateful the night and stars of his skin covered the marks his father’s ministrations had left—the ones his ink couldn’t hide.

Day’s flame blazed brighter. “You should mind what you tell people, even among Ophion allies. They have ways of making people disappear.”

“Like Sofie Renast?”

Her fire simmered. “Don’t repeat her true name to anyone. Refer to her as Agent Cypress.”

Ruhn gritted his teeth. “Do you know anything about Sofie?”

“I assumed she was dead, since you’re now my contact.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If she isn’t dead, where would she go? Where would she hide?”

Daybright whirled back toward her end of the bridge. “This meeting is over.” And before Ruhn could say another word, she vanished, leaving only drifting embers behind.

“Why the Hel would the Asteri create their own mech-suit for this war?” Hunt asked, rubbing his jaw as he leaned against the kitchen counter the next morning.

He tried not to look at the black box on the other end of the counter. But its presence seemed to … hum. Seemed to hollow out the air around it.

Considering the two Death Marks inside, it was no wonder.

Cormac sipped from his tea, face clouded. He’d arrived barely past dawn, apparently after Ruhn had called him to demand that he rush over, thus dragging Hunt from slumber—and Bryce’s arms—with his knocking. “The suits are the one advantage we have. Well, that the humans have.”