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

She stiffened. “Why did she kill them?”

“Does it matter?”

She considered. “No. Not if the victims were innocent. Pippa did it herself?”

“A group of soldiers under her command did.”

Her flame guttered to hottest blue. “She’s a fanatic. Dedicated to the rebel cause, yes—but to her own cause most of all.”

“She was a friend of Agent Cypress, apparently.”

“She was no friend to Sofie. Or anyone.” Her voice had gone cold. Like she was angry enough that she forgot to use Sofie’s code name.

“Sofie’s dead, by the way.”

Day started. “You’re sure of this?”

“Yes. She drowned.”

“She …” Day’s legs curled beneath her. “She was a brave agent. Far better and braver than Ophion deserved.” Genuine sorrow laced Day’s words.

“You liked her.”

“She went into the Kavalla death camp to save her brother. Did everything the Ophion commanders asked her just so she could get scraps of information about him. If Pippa serves only herself, then Sofie was her opposite: all the work she did was for others. But yes. I did like her. I admired her courage. Her loyalty. She was a kindred spirit in many ways.”

Ruhn slumped against the back of his couch. “So, what—you hate Pippa and Ophion, too? If everyone hates her and the group, why the fuck do you bother working with them?”

“Do you see anyone else leading the cause? Has anyone else stepped up to the line?”

No. No one else would dare.

Day said, “They’re the only ones in recent memory to have ever mustered such a force. Only Shahar and General Hunt Athalar ever did anything close, and they were decimated in one battle.”

And Athalar had suffered for centuries afterward.

Day went on, “To be free of the Asteri, there are things that we all must do that will leave a mark on our souls. It’s the cost, so that our children and their children won’t ever need to pay it. So they’ll know a world of freedom and plenty.”

The words of a dreamer. A glimpse beneath that hard-ass facade.

So Ruhn said, the first time he’d said it aloud, “I’m not going to have children.”

“Why?”

“I can’t.”

She angled her head. “You’re infertile?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. The Oracle told me when I was a kid that I was to be the last of my bloodline. So either I die before I can sire a child, or … I’m shooting blanks.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I’d prefer not to be dead before my time, so if her words just mean that I’m not going to be a father … I don’t know. It doesn’t change a lick of who I am, but I still try not to think about it. No one in my life knows, either. And considering the father I have … maybe it’s good that I won’t be one. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to be a decent dad.”

“That doesn’t seem true.”

He snorted. “Well, anyway, that was my stupid way of saying that while I might not be having kids, I … I get what you’re saying. I have people in my life who will, and for their kids, their families … I’ll do whatever I have to.”

But she was having none of his deflecting. “You are kind, and caring. And seem to love those around you. I can’t think of anything else needed to be a father.”

“How about growing the Hel up and not partying so much?”

She laughed. “All right. Maybe that.”

He smiled slightly. Faint, distant stars glowed in the darkness around them.

She said, “You seem unsettled.”

“I saw a bunch of fucked-up shit today. I was having a hard time sleeping before you knocked.”

“Knocked?”

“Whatever you want to call it. Summoned me.”

“Shall I tell you a story to help you sleep?” Her voice was wry.

“Yeah.” He’d call her bluff.

But she only said, “All right.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Why not?” She motioned for him to lie down. So Ruhn did, closing his eyes.

Then, to his shock, she came and sat beside him. Brushed a burning hand through his hair. Warm and gentle—tentative.

She began, “Once upon a time, before Luna hunted the heavens and Solas warmed Cthona’s body, before Ogenas blanketed Midgard with water and Urd twined our fates together, there lived a young witch in a cottage deep in the woods. She was beautiful, and kind, and beloved by her mother. Her mother had done her best to raise her, with her only companions being the denizens of the forest itself: birds and beasts and the babbling brooks …”

Her voice, lovely and fair and steady, flowed through him like music. Her hand brushed through his hair again and he reined in his purr.

“She grew older, strong and proud. But a wandering prince passed by her clearing one day when her mother was gone, beheld her beauty, and wanted her desperately to be his bride.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a comforting story,” Ruhn muttered.

She laughed softly, tugging on a strand of his hair. “Listen.”

Ruhn figured to Hel with it and shifted, laying his head on her lap. The fire did not burn him, and the thigh beneath was firm with muscle, yet supple. And that scent …