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

“All because you told a bunch of rich jerks that they were being elitist monsters.”

“I might bring in money for the shows, but those rich jerks donate millions.” The faun drained her water. “I’m going to stick it out until they have to promote me.”

Bryce tapped her foot on the pale wood floor. “I’m sorry, June.”

Her friend squared her shoulders with a quiet dignity that cracked Bryce’s heart. “I do this because I love it,” she said as Kyrah summoned the class back into their lines. “They’re not worth my anger. I have to keep remembering that.” She tucked a stray curl back into her bun. “Any word about that kid?”

Bryce shook her head. “Nope.” She’d leave it at that.

Kyrah started the music, and they got back into position.

Bryce sweated and grunted through the rest of the class, but Juniper had become razor-focused. Every movement precise and flawless, her gaze fixed on the mirror, as if she battled herself. That expression didn’t alter, even when Kyrah asked June to demonstrate a perfect series of thirty-two fouettés—spins on one foot—for the class. Juniper whipped around like the wind itself propelled her, her grounding hoof not straying one inch from its starting point.

Perfect form. A perfect dancer. Yet it wasn’t enough.

Juniper left class almost as soon as it had finished, not lingering to chat like she usually did. Bryce let her go, and waited until most of the class had filtered out before approaching Kyrah by the mirror, where the instructor was panting softly. “Did you see the news about Korinne?”

Kyrah tugged on a loose pink sweatshirt against the chill of the dance studio. Even though she hadn’t danced on CCB’s stage in years, the instructor remained in peak form. “You seem surprised. I’m not.”

“You can’t say anything? You were one of CCB’s prized dancers.” And now one of their best instructors when she wasn’t teaching her outside classes.

Kyrah frowned. “I’m as much at the mercy of the company’s leadership as Juniper. She might be the most talented dancer I’ve ever seen, and the hardest-working, but she’s going up against a well-entrenched power structure. The people in charge don’t appreciate being called out for what they truly are.”

“But—”

“I get why you want to help her.” Kyrah shouldered her duffel and aimed for the double doors of the studio. “I want to help her, too. But Juniper made her choice this spring. She has to face the consequences.”

Bryce stared after her for a minute, the doors to the studio banging shut. As she stood alone in the sunny space, the silence pressed on her. She looked to the spot where Juniper had been demonstrating those fouettés.

Bryce pulled out her phone and did a quick search. A moment later, she was dialing. “I’d like to speak to Director Gorgyn, please.”

Bryce tapped her feet again as the CCB receptionist spoke. She clenched her fingers into fists before she answered, “Tell him that Her Royal Highness Princess Bryce Danaan is calling.”

Push-ups bored Hunt to tears. If it hadn’t been for the earbuds playing the last few chapters of the book he was listening to, he might have fallen asleep during his workout on the training roof of the Comitium.

The morning sun baked his back, his arms, his brow, sweat dripping onto the concrete floors. He had a vague awareness of people watching, but kept going. Three hundred sixty-one, three hundred sixty-two …

A shadow fell across him, blocking out the sun. He found the Harpy smirking down at him, her dark hair fluttering in the wind. And those black wings … Well, that’s why there was no more sun.

“What,” he asked on an exhale, keeping up his momentum.

“The pretty one wants to see you.” Her sharp voice was edged with cruel amusement.

“Her name is Celestina,” Hunt grunted, getting to three hundred seventy before hopping to his feet. The Harpy’s gaze slid down his bare torso, and he crossed his arms. “You’re her messenger now?”

“I’m Ephraim’s messenger, and since he just finished fucking her, I was the closest one to retrieve you.”

Hunt held in his cringe. “Fine.” He caught Isaiah’s attention from across the ring and motioned that he was leaving. His friend, in the middle of his own exercises, waved a farewell.

He didn’t bother waving to Baxian, despite his help last night. And Pollux hadn’t come up to the ring for their private hour of training—he was presumably still in bed with the Hind. Naomi had waited for him for thirty minutes before bailing and going to inspect her own troops.

Hunt stepped toward the glass doors into the building, wiping the sweat from his brow, but the Harpy followed him. He sneered over a shoulder. “Bye.”

She gave him a slashing grin. “I’m to escort you back.”

Hunt stiffened. This couldn’t be good. His body going distant, he kept walking, aiming for the elevators. If he sent a warning message to Bryce right now, would she have enough time to flee the city? Unless they’d already come for her—

The Harpy trailed him like a wraith. “Your little disappearing act last night is going to bite you in the ass,” she crooned, stepping into the elevator with him.

Right. That.

He tried not to look too relieved as the acid in his veins eased. That had to be why Celestina was summoning him. A chewing-out for bad behavior, he could deal with.