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

Ruhn wasn’t at all shocked when he found himself standing before that mental couch.

After the night he’d had, nothing could shock him.

On the bridge, Day surveyed Ruhn without saying a word. Somehow, he could have sworn she sensed his turmoil.

But Ruhn said, “Anything for me?” He hadn’t forgotten their last conversation. She’d told him he was a worthless, do-nothing loser who’d never known sacrifice or pain.

“You’re angry with me.”

“I don’t care about you enough to be angry with you,” he said coldly.

“Liar.”

The word was an arrow shot between them. The night around him rippled. His temper hadn’t improved when he discovered that Ariadne had straight up bailed. Fled the moment no one was looking and gone the gods knew where. He didn’t blame the dragon. He was just … pissed he hadn’t anticipated it.

He asked Day, “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I owe you an apology for last time. I’d had a rough day. My temper got the better of me.”

“You spoke the truth. Why bother apologizing for it?”

“It’s not the truth. I …” She seemed to struggle for words. “Do you know when I last spoke honestly with someone? When I last spoke to someone as I do to you, as close to my real self as I’ve ever come?”

“I’m guessing it’s been a while.”

She crossed her arms, wrapping them around herself. “Yes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She angled her head. “What?”

He rubbed his neck, his shoulder. “What do you think makes a good leader?” The question was ridiculous—an essay for a second-grader. But after all that had gone down …

She didn’t balk. “Someone who listens. Who thinks before acting. Who tries to understand different viewpoints. Who does what is right, even if the path is long and hard. Who will give a voice to the voiceless.”

His father was none of those things. Except for thinking before acting. That male had schemes that had been in play for decades. Centuries.

“Why do you ask?”

Ruhn shrugged. “All this rebel stuff has me thinking about it. Who we’d replace the Asteri with. Who we’d want to replace them with.”

She studied him, her gaze a brand on his skin. “What do you think makes a good leader?”

He didn’t know. Only that he wasn’t entirely sure he fit the bill of what she’d described, either. Where would that leave his people? “I’m trying to figure that out.” If he became king one day, what sort of ruler would he be? He’d try to do right, but …

Silence fell, companionable and comfortable.

But then Day blew out a breath, blue flame rippling from her mouth. “I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

He lowered himself onto his couch. “What sort of thing?”

“Friendship.”

“You consider me a friend?”

“In a world full of enemies, you’re my only friend.”

“Well, maybe I should give you friendship lessons, because you fucking blow at it.”

She laughed, and the sound wasn’t entirely joyous. “All right. I deserved that.”

He gave her a half smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “Lesson one: don’t shit on your friends when you have a bad day.”

“Right.”

“Lesson two: Your true friends won’t mind when you do, so long as you own up to it and apologize. Usually in the form of buying them a beer.”

Another laugh, softer this time. “I’ll buy you a beer, then.”

“Yeah? When you come to visit me?”

“Yeah,” she said, the word echoing. “When I come visit you.”

He rose and crossed to her couch, peering down at her. “Which will be when, Day?”

She tipped her head back, as if staring up at him. “On the Autumnal Equinox.”

Ruhn stilled. “You … What?”

She brought her burning hand to her head—her ear. Like she was tucking a strand of hair behind it. She stood, walking around the couch. Putting it between them as she said, “I must attend the ball for the Archangels. I could … meet you somewhere.”

“I’m going to that ball,” he said, unsure why his voice went hoarse. For her to be invited there, she had to be important, precisely as they’d suspected. “The equinox fete is always a masked ball. We can meet there.”

She backed up a step as he rounded the couch. “In front of so many?”

“Why not? We’ll both be in masks. And we’re both invited to the party, so why would it be suspicious for two people to talk there?”

He could have sworn he heard her heart pounding. She asked, “How will I know you?”

“The party’s in the conservatory on the rooftop garden of the Comitium. There’s a fountain on the western side of it—right off the stairs from the conservatory. Meet me there at midnight.”

“But how can I be sure not to mistake someone else for you?”

“If I think it’s you, I’ll say ‘Day?’ And if you answer ‘Night,’ we’ll know.”

“We shouldn’t.”

Ruhn took a step toward her, his breathing uneven. “Is it so bad if I know who you are?”