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

Bryce murmured coldly as they aimed for the sitting room, “I’m not letting this poor kid fall into anyone’s hands. Even Cormac’s.”

“So that night we came here with Juniper and Fury—was Emile here already?”

“The Viper Queen was supposed to have apprehended him by that point. But then Tharion told us about the dead selkie, and it was clear she hadn’t yet found him. So I came here to see what the Hel had happened, and to inform her that leaving a trail of bodies … that was not what I had intended. When I walked past the guards after we separated to search, I might have muttered a few questions for them to convey to their queen. And they might have had one of their undercover guards come up to me at the butcher where I bought the meat for Syrinx and tell me that the kid was still at large, and they’d last seen him near the Black Dock. Which made me doubt everything I’d assumed about him coming here, and I knew that I just … I needed to go to the Bone Quarter to make sure he wasn’t there. While the Viper Queen kept searching. But apparently either she or her henchwoman ignored my demand to stop the killing, and added a few more to the list before they grabbed Emile.”

“So coming here that night was a big waste of time?”

She shook her head. “No. I also needed everyone to think I was looking for Emile, and that we’d cleared this space, so if the Viper Queen did manage to get him, no one would come here again. And I needed you and Fury with me so that the Viper Queen would remember who would come fuck her up if she hurt the kid in the process.”

That queen now stood before them, a slim female in a neon-green silk jumpsuit beside a large, plush couch. Her glossy black bob reflected the golden flames from the fireplace to her right. And seated on the couch before her, small and thin and wide-eyed, was a boy.

“Come to collect your package or make more threats about Athalar cooking me alive?” the Viper Queen asked, puffing on a cigarette between her purple-painted lips.

“Nice sneakers” was all Bryce said, gesturing to the snake shifter’s white-and-gold high-tops. But Bryce offered Emile a gentle smile. “Hey, Emile. I’m Bryce.”

The boy said nothing. Rather, he looked up at the Viper Queen, who drawled, “Red’s the one who got you here. Ignore the angel. He’s all bark, no bite.”

“Oh, he likes to bite,” Bryce murmured, but Hunt was in no mood to laugh. Or even smile. He said to the Viper Queen, power sparking in his veins, “Don’t think for one moment that I’ll ever forget how you screwed me over that night with Micah. Vik’s suffering and Justinian’s death are on you.”

The queen had the audacity to look down at herself, as if searching for guilt.

But before Hunt could contemplate roasting her, Emile squeaked, “Hi.”

He was just a kid, alone and afraid. The thought doused any lightning in Hunt’s veins.

Bryce nodded at the Viper Queen. “I’d like a moment with Emile, please.” It was a command. From a princess to another ruler.

The Viper Queen’s slitted pupils widened—with amusement or predatory intent, Hunt didn’t know. But she said, “Emile, holler if you need anything.” She sauntered down an ornate, wood-paneled hallway and vanished through a door.

Bryce plopped onto the couch beside Emile and said, “So what’s up?” The boy—and Hunt—blinked at her.

Emile said quietly, “My sister’s dead, isn’t she?”

Bryce’s face softened, and Hunt said, “Yeah. She is. We’re so sorry.”

Emile gazed at his pale, bony hands. “The Vipe said you were looking, but … I knew.” Hunt scanned the boy for any hint of that thunderbird gift. Any hint of a magic able to harvest and transform power to his will.

Bryce put a hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Your sister was a badass. A brave, brilliant badass.”

Emile offered a wobbly smile. Gods, the boy was scrawny. Way too thin for his lanky frame. If this was how thin he remained after a few weeks outside the death camp’s barbed-wire fences … This boy had seen and endured things that no child—no person—should face.

Shame flooded Hunt, and he sat down beside Bryce.

No wonder she’d worked alone to arrange this—none of the rest of them had really stopped to think about the kid himself. Just his power, and what it might mean if the wrong person got hold of it.

Hunt tried to catch her eye, to show her that he understood, and he didn’t hold any of this against her, but she kept her focus on the boy.

Bryce said quietly, “I lost a sister, too. Two years ago. It was hard, and you never stop feeling the loss, but … you learn to live with it. I’m not going to tell you time heals all wounds, because for some people it doesn’t.” Hunt’s heart strained at the pain in her voice, even now. “But I get it. What you’re feeling.”

Emile said nothing. Hunt suppressed the urge to gather both of them in his arms and hug them tightly.

“And look,” Bryce went on, “no matter what the Viper Queen says to you, don’t take her threats too seriously. She’s a psycho, but she’s not a kid killer.”

“Real reassuring,” Hunt muttered.

Bryce scowled at him. “It’s true.”

But Hunt knew why the Viper Queen wouldn’t have harmed the kid. He turned to the fighting pit beyond the window. It was dim and quiet now, too early in the day for the fights that drew hundreds—and made millions—for the snake shifter.