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

The warning was clear enough: Don’t trust Cormac entirely.

Ruhn nodded slowly. The male might have claimed he’d changed since trying to kill the prince decades ago, but Hunt didn’t trust him, either.

Ruhn turned toward Ithan as the wolf aimed for the discarded laptop on the couch. “Look, I hate to drag anyone else into our shit, but … you want to come?”

Holstrom jerked his chin toward the laptop. “What about the footage?”

“It can wait a few hours—you can look through any flagged sections when we get back. We could use your skills today.”

“What skills?” Bryce demanded. Pure, protective alarm. “Being good at sunball doesn’t count.”

“Thanks, Bryce,” Ithan grumbled, and before Ruhn could supply a reason for inviting the wolf, he said, “Sabine will have a fit if I’m caught helping you.”

That was the least of what would happen if he was caught aiding rebels. Hunt tried not to shift his wings, tried to halt the echo of agony through them.

“You don’t answer to Sabine anymore,” Ruhn countered.

Ithan considered. “I guess I’m already in this mess.” Hunt could have sworn guilt and worry filled Bryce’s face. She chewed her bottom lip, but didn’t challenge Ithan further.

“Okay,” Ithan continued, plugging in the laptop. “Let me get dressed.”

Bryce turned warily toward the black box on the counter. The looming, thrumming Death Marks within. But she said, “Right, Athalar. Time to be on our way. Suit up.”

Hunt followed Bryce back into her bedroom—their bedroom now, he supposed—to see her pick up a holster and prop her leg on the bed. Her short pink skirt slid back, revealing that lean, long expanse of golden leg. His mind went blank as she strapped the holster around her upper thigh.

Her fingers snagged on the buckle, and Hunt was instantly there to help, savoring the silken warmth of her bare skin. “You’re really wearing this to the Bone Quarter?” He drifted a hand to toy with the soft pleats of the skirt. No matter that her gun would be useless against any Reapers that came their way.

“It’s a thousand degrees today and humid. I’m not wearing pants.”

“What if we get into trouble?” He might have taken far longer on the buckle than necessary. He knew she was letting him.

She smiled wickedly. “Then I suppose the Under-King will get a nice view of my ass.”

He gave her a flat look.

Bryce rolled her eyes, but said, “Give me five minutes to change.”





29

“I think he knows we’re coming,” Bryce whispered to Hunt as they stood on the edge of the Black Dock and peered through the mist swarming the Istros. Thankfully, there had been no Sailings today. But a path through the mists spread ahead—an opening through which they’d sail to get to the Bone Quarter.

She knew, because she’d sailed through it herself once.

“Good,” Hunt said, and Bryce caught his glance at the Starsword she’d sheathed down her back. Ruhn had left it for her with the note: Bring it. Don’t be stupid.

For once in her life, she’d listened.

And Ruhn had listened when she’d encouraged him, in their swift mind-to-mind conversation, not to trust Cormac. His invitation to Ithan had been the result.

She could only pray they’d stay safe. And that Cormac was true to his word.

Bryce shifted, tucking the thoughts away, the half-rotted black wood beneath her shoes creaking. She’d wound up changing into black leggings and a gray T-shirt before leaving. Yet even with the mist, the heat somehow continued, turning her clothes into a sticky second skin. She should have stayed in the skirt. If only because it had allowed her to conceal the gun—which she’d left behind after Hunt had mortifyingly reminded her of its uselessness against anything they’d encounter in the Bone Quarter.

“Well, here goes,” Bryce said, fishing out the onyx coin from the pocket in the back of her waistband. The stifling, earthen smell of mold stuffed itself up her nostrils, as if the coin itself were rotting.

Hunt pulled his coin from a compartment in his battle-suit and sniffed, frowning. “It smells worse the closer we get to the Bone Quarter.”

“Then good riddance.” Bryce flipped the Death Mark with her thumb into the fog-veiled water below. Hunt’s followed. Both only made one ripple before they went rushing toward the Bone Quarter, hidden from view.

“I’m sure a few people have told you this,” a male voice said behind them, “but that is a very bad idea.”

Bryce whirled, but Hunt bristled. “What the fuck do you want, Baxian?”

The Helhound emerged like a wraith from the mist, wearing his own battle-suit. Shadows had settled beneath his dark eyes, like he hadn’t slept in a while. “Why are you here?”

“I’d like to know the same,” Hunt bit out.

Baxian shrugged. “Enjoying the sights,” he said, and Bryce knew it for the lie it was. Had he followed them? “I thought we were supposed to be paired up, Athalar. You never showed. Does Celestina know about this?”

“It’s my day off,” Hunt said. Which was true. “So no. It’s none of her business. Or yours. Go report to Isaiah. He’ll give you something to do.”

Baxian’s attention shifted to Bryce, and she held his stare. His gaze dipped to the scar on her chest, only the upper spikes of the star visible above the neckline of her T-shirt. “Who are you going to see over there?” His voice had gone low, dangerous.