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

“Maybe,” Hunt said.

“I thought so,” Tharion said. The warning about the demons seemed true—but also a convenient cover.

“I know where Emile is,” Athalar said quietly.

Tharion nearly stumbled a step. “Where?”

“Can’t say. But he’s safe.” Athalar remained grave despite the beauty of Moonwood around them. “Call off your search. Spin some bullshit to your queen. But you’re done hunting for that kid.”

Tharion surveyed the angel, the mist beading on the gray wings. “And you think it’s wise to tell me that you know where he is?”

Hunt bared his teeth in a feral smile. “You going to torture it out of me, Ketos?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

Lightning licked across Hunt’s forehead as he motioned to the fountains, the water all around. “Not the best place for a lightning fight.”

Tharion began to pace. “The River Queen won’t give up. She wants that kid.”

“It’s a dead end. And a gigantic waste of your time.” Tharion arched a brow. Hunt said, voice low, “Emile Renast has no powers. His sister staged things to make it seem that way, hoping that arrogant Vanir like us would find the kid important enough to look after.”

Something glimmered in Athalar’s face that Tharion couldn’t place. Pain. Sorrow. Shame?

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it,” Tharion said.

“Yeah, you are.”

Tharion knew that tone. The merciless voice of the Umbra Mortis.

“I can think of only one person who’d make you this intense,” Tharion drawled, unable to resist. “Legs knows where the kid is, too, huh?” He laughed to himself. “Did she arrange this? I should have seen that coming.” He chuckled again, shaking his head. “What’s to stop me from going to ask her some questions?”

“Hard to ask Bryce any questions when you don’t have a head attached to your body,” Hunt said, violence glittering in his eyes.

Tharion held up his hands. “Threat received.” But his mind spun with all he’d learned. “Let’s say I do trust you. Emile really has no powers?”

“Not even a drop. He might be descended from a thunderbird, but Sofie was the only one with the gifts.”

“Fuck.” The River Queen would be livid, even if she’d been the one who’d ordered him to spend weeks on a wild goose chase. Hel, she’d be pissed that he hadn’t figured out the truth sooner. “And the intel?”

“Kid knows nothing.” Hunt seemed to consider, then added, “He confirmed that Danika and Sofie had contact. But nothing else.”

Tharion dragged his hands through his still-wet hair. “Fuck,” he said again, pacing a step.

Athalar tucked in his wings. “How badly is she going to punish you for this?”

Tharion swallowed. “I’m going to have to spin it carefully.”

“Even though none of it is your fault?”

“She’ll deem it a failure. Rational thinking is second to her need to feel like she’s won.”

“I really am sorry.” The angel tilted his head to the side. “Any chance she’ll fire you and let that be that?”

Tharion let out a humorless laugh. “I wish. But …” He paused, an idea sparking. He glanced up and down the sun-baked concrete quay. “Who says she has to know today?”

A corner of Athalar’s mouth kicked up. “As far as I know, you and I met up to swap status reports.”

Tharion began walking toward the city proper, the hustle and bustle that set his blood thrumming. Athalar fell into step beside him. “It could take days to learn that Emile isn’t worth our time. Weeks.”

The angel winked. “Months, if you do it right.”

Tharion grinned, a thrill shooting through his bones as they entered Moonwood’s tree-lined streets. It was a dangerous game, but … he’d play it. Milk every second of freedom he could from this. Stay Above as often as he liked, so long as he checked in Below every now and then. “Got any ideas where I can crash?”





53

Ithan didn’t think of himself as an eavesdropper. But sometimes he couldn’t help it if his keen wolf’s hearing picked up stuff being said, even a floor below.

This time, it had been some big, big stuff.

Ithan used all his training, all those years of practice and games, to keep from pacing as Ruhn went on and on about the witch-queen needing an escort in the city. Yes, fine, he’d do it, he’d guard her back, but—

“You may speak, Ithan Holstrom,” the stunningly beautiful witch said, cutting off Ruhn, who blinked at them. Ithan hadn’t realized he’d broadcast his impatience so clearly.

Flynn and Declan had remained upstairs with the sprites and Ariadne, booing when Ruhn had asked only Ithan to come downstairs.

Ithan cleared his throat. “You can talk to the dead, right? You’re … a necromancer? I’m sorry—I couldn’t help but overhear.” He offered Ruhn an apologetic look, too. But at Hypaxia’s cautious nod, he pressed on, “If I agree to guard you, would you …” Ithan shook his head. “Would you try to make contact with my brother, Connor?”

For a long moment, Hypaxia only stared at him. Her dark eyes beheld everything. Too much. “I can feel the disturbance in your heart, Ithan. You don’t wish to speak to him merely from longing and loss.”