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

“I can feel … a presence,” the witch-queen whispered, arms lifted toward the moon, beautiful face solemn. “Someone is coming.”

Ithan’s mouth dried out. What would he even say to Connor? I love you would likely be the first. I miss you every minute of every damn day would be the second. Then the warning. Or should it be the warning first? He shook out his trembling fingers at his sides.

“Get ready to say your piece. Your brother’s spirit is … strong. I’m not sure how long I can hold the star.”

Something weirdly like pride rose in him at that. But Ithan stepped closer, breathing evenly. Exactly as he had before important games, during game-winning shots. Focus. He could do this. He’d deal with the repercussions later.

The star she’d drawn glowed a faint blue, illuminating the trees around them.

“One more moment …” Hypaxia hissed, panting, a faint sheen on her temples. Like this was draining the power out of her.

Light ruptured from the star, blinding and white, a great wind shaking the trees around them, sending olives scattering in a pitter-patter. Ithan squeezed his eyes shut against it, letting his claws slide free.

When the wind stopped, he blinked, adjusting his vision. His brother’s name died in his throat.

A creature, tall and thin and robed, lurked in the center of the six-pointed star. Hypaxia let out a soft gasp. Ithan’s stomach clenched. He’d never seen the male, but he’d seen drawings.

The Under-King.

“You were not summoned,” Hypaxia said, mastering her surprise. She lifted her chin, every inch the queen. “Return to the misty isle over which you rule.”

The Under-King laughed at the witch. Her body shimmered with pale blue light. Like she was rallying her power. But the Under-King slowly turned his head to Ithan. Let out another dry, husky laugh.

“Young fools. You play with powers beyond your ken.” His voice was horrible. Full of dusty bones and the pleading screams of the dead.

Yet Hypaxia didn’t back down an inch. “Be gone, and let us see the one whom I have summoned.”

Ithan’s hand drifted toward his gun. It wouldn’t do anything. His wolf form would protect him better with its speed, but even losing that split second to shifting might make him vulnerable, and cost Hypaxia her life.

The Under-King extended a bony hand. Light rippled where it met the edge of the star. “Do not fear, wolf pup. I cannot harm you. Here, at least.” He grinned, exposing too-large brown teeth.

Ithan bristled and he found his voice at last as he growled, “I want to speak to my brother.”

Beside him, Hypaxia was murmuring under her breath, the light around her building.

“Your brother is well cared for.” Dark fire danced in the Under-King’s milky eyes. “But whether that remains so now depends entirely on you.”

“What the Hel does that mean?” Ithan demanded. But the witch-queen had tensed. Wind stirred her curly hair, as if she were readying her defenses.

The Under-King lifted a bony hand, and an eerie, greenish light wreathed his fingers. Ithan could have sworn ancient, strange symbols swirled in that light. “Let’s play a little game first.” He inclined his head to Hypaxia, whose face had gone stony—anticipatory. “The House of Flame and Shadow has long been curious about your … abilities, Your Majesty.”

Bryce knew she was dreaming. Knew she was physically in her bed. Knew she was currently tucked up against Hunt’s side. But she also knew that the being in front of her was real—even if the setting was not.

She stood on a vast, dusty plain before an azure, cloudless sky. Distant dry mountains studded the horizon, but she was surrounded only by rock and sand and emptiness.

“Princess.” The voice was like Hel embodied: dark and icy and smooth.

“Prince.” Her voice shook.

Apollion, Prince of the Pit, had chosen to appear in a golden-haired, golden-skinned body. Handsome in the way that ancient statues were handsome, in the way that Pollux was handsome.

His black eyes, however, gave him away. No whites anywhere. Only unending darkness.

The Star-Eater himself.

She asked, trying to master her shaking, “Where are we?”

“Parthos. Or what remains of it.”

The barren land seemed to stretch on forever. “In the real world, or in, like, dreamworld?”

He angled his head, more animal than humanoid. “Dreamworld. Or what you consider to be dreams.”

She wasn’t going to touch that one. “All right, then. Um … nice to meet you.”

Apollion’s mouth curved upward. “You do not cower before me.”

“Aidas kind of ruined your scary-monster vibe.”

A soulless laugh. “My brother has the tendency to be a thorn in my side.”

“Maybe he should join this conversation.”

“Aidas would be angry with me for speaking with you. That’s why I picked this moment, when he is conveniently occupied.”

“With what?”

“Raising Hel’s armies. Readying them.”

Her breath hitched. “To invade Midgard?”

“It’s been long in the making.”

“I’m going to make a request on behalf of my planet and say please stay in your own world.”

Another twitch of his mouth. “You do not trust us. Good. Theia did. It was her downfall.”