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

The Harpy had started down their backs. Taken her knives and sawed through the ribs, cleaving each bone from the spine. And then she’d reached through the incisions and yanked their lungs through them.

Leaving a pair of bloody wings draped over their backs.

Hunt knew the victims would have still been alive. Screaming.

Ephraim had brought this into his city. This was what the Hind, the Asteri would unleash upon him and Bryce. It wouldn’t be crucifixion. It’d be something far more creative.

Had the Harpy left the blood eagles as a message for Ophion, or for all of Valbara?

Celestina had allowed this to happen here. Allowed the Harpy to do this and then display the bodies. Hadn’t even mentioned it in their meeting. Because she agreed with these methods, or because she had no choice?

Hunt swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. But others had noticed him now. The Umbra Mortis, they murmured. Like he’d helped the Harpy create this atrocity.

Hunt swallowed his answer. We might be triarii, but I will never be like that monster.

They wouldn’t have believed him.

It had been a weird fucking day, but Ruhn heaved a sigh of relief when Athalar called. All clear, the angel had said, and it had eased Ruhn’s exhaustion and dread, if only by a fraction. He hadn’t told Athalar about the sprites and the dragon. He’d let Bryce tell her mate those details. He wondered if she’d even told him yet about the mystics.

Ruhn toyed with his lip ring as he returned to the living room, where Flynn was flirting with the sprites while Dec asked them questions about their lives in the rings. The dragon sat on the stairs, and Ruhn ignored her, even if it went against every primal instinct to do so. Ithan lifted his brows as Ruhn entered.

“We’re good,” Ruhn told the males, who all muttered prayers of thanks to the gods. He faced the dragon, bracing himself, but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

Brows lowering, hand drifting to the gun tucked into his back waistband, Ruhn strode to the front door. A lovely, familiar female scent hit him a moment before he registered who stood there, broom in hand.

Queen Hypaxia Enador smiled faintly. “Hello, Prince. I’d hoped to find you here.”





52

Tharion finished his report to the River Queen, his fin holding him steady in the current of the river depths. She lounged among a bed of river oysters, long fingers trailing over the ridges and bumps.

“So my sister has a fleet of ships that elude the Asteri’s Omega-boats.” The waters around them swirled, and Tharion fought to keep in place, tail swishing hard.

“Only six.”

“Six, each one the size of the Comitium.” Her eyes flashed in the dim depths.

“Does it make a difference?” He’d had no choice but to tell her everything—it was the only way to explain why he’d returned without Pippa Spetsos in tow. Or at least answers regarding Emile Renast’s whereabouts.

“Do sisters not share everything?” She dragged a finger along the jagged edge of an oyster and it opened, revealing the pearl within. “They mock me, with these ships. They suggest I am not trustworthy.”

“No one said anything like that.” He clenched his jaw. “I don’t think they’ve told anyone else.”

“Yet this Commander Sendes saw fit to inform you.”

“Only of the vague details, and only because we stumbled onto her ship.”

“They rescued you. They could have let you drown and kept their secrets, yet they saved you.” His blood chilled. She would have let them drown. “I want you to find out everything you can about these ships.”

“I don’t think that will be easy,” Tharion cautioned.

“Who is to say my sister won’t use them against me?”

She rules the oceans. I doubt she wants one stupid river. But Tharion said, “That didn’t seem to be on anyone’s mind.”

“Perhaps not now, but I wouldn’t put it past her.”

He refrained from telling her she was being paranoid. Instead, he tried his best weapon: diverting her attention. “Shall I continue hunting for Emile Renast?”

The River Queen eyed him. “Why wouldn’t you?”

He tried to hide his relief that she’d pivoted with him, even though he knew she’d return to the subject of the Ocean Queen’s ships soon enough. “Even with the ammo and mech-suit prototype destroyed, Pippa Spetsos just became a lot more powerful—her position in Ophion has changed. Capturing her, interrogating her … We do that, and we risk having Ophion deem us enemies.”

“I do not care what Ophion deems us. But very well.” She motioned to the surface. “Go Above. Find another way to collect the boy.”

“As you will it,” he said, bowing in the current.

She flicked a hand in dismissal. “I shall make your excuses to my daughter.”

“Give her my love.”

She didn’t answer, and Tharion made a beeline to the surface and open world above.

He’d finished tugging on the clothes he’d left in a nook of the quay near Moonwood’s River Gate when wings rustled on the walkway above him. He peered over the stone rim to find Athalar standing with crossed arms.

“We need to talk,” said the Umbra Mortis.

Ruhn stared at the witch-queen. At his bride.