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

9

“Anything?”

“Nothing at all—though you were right about the all-out decorations. I nearly flew into about six different banners and wreaths on my way over this morning. But no reports or sightings of the Governor. Pretty normal day so far, to be honest.” Hunt’s low voice ran invisible hands along Bryce’s arms as she picked at the remnants of her lunch: a gyro grabbed from the archives’ staff cafeteria. He added, “Though not if you count me receiving a photo of some marble abs while I was showing crime scene pictures to Naomi.”

“Thought you’d enjoy that.”

His laugh rumbled over the line. It shot through her like starlight. If he was able to laugh today, good. She’d do whatever she could to keep a smile on Hunt’s face. He cleared his throat. “Thurr was pretty jacked, huh?”

“I’m petitioning for the exhibit to sell replicas in the gift shop. I think the old ladies will go wild over it.” That earned her another beautiful laugh. She bit her lip against her broad smile. “So Celestina’s now due to arrive at six, then?” Apparently, she’d been delayed by an hour.

“Yep.” Any hint of amusement faded.

Bryce stirred her computer to life. So far, the news sites reported nothing beyond the headline that Lunathion—that all of Valbara—would have a new leader.

Bryce was willing to admit she’d spent a good hour skimming through various images of the beautiful Archangel, pondering what sort of boss she’d be for Hunt. She found no hint about any romantic entanglements, though Micah hadn’t often broadcast who he’d been fucking. It wasn’t that Bryce was worried, though she’d certainly felt a scrap of something when she’d seen precisely how stunning Celestina was, but … she needed a mental picture of who Hunt would be seeing day in and day out.

Bryce chucked her lunch into the trash beside her desk. “I could come over after work. Be with you for the grand arrival.”

“It’s all right. I’ll fill you in afterward. It might take a while, though, so feel free to eat without me.”

“But it’s pizza night.”

Hunt laughed. “Glad you’ve got your priorities straight.” His wings rustled in the background. “Any word about Prince Dickhead?”

“Nothing on the news, nothing from my mom.”

“Small blessing.”

“You owe me five gold marks.”

“Add it to my tab, Quinlan.”

“Don’t forget that my mom will probably be pissed at you for not telling her.”

“I already have my bug-out bag packed and ready to flee to another territory.”

She chuckled. “I think you’d have to go to Nena to escape her.” Hunt laughed with her. “Don’t you think she—”

A glow flared at her chest. From the scar.

“Bryce?” Hunt’s voice sharpened.

“I, uh …” Bryce frowned down at the glowing star between her breasts, visible in her low-cut dress. Not again. Its glowing had been rare until now, but after last night—

She looked up.

“My boss is here. I’ll call you back,” she lied, and hung up before Hunt could reply.

Bryce lifted her chin and said to Cormac Donnall, lurking in the doorway, “If you’re looking for How Not to Be an Asshole, it’s shelved between Bye, Loser and Get the Fuck Out.”

The Crown Prince of Avallen had changed into a climate-appropriate gray T-shirt that did little to hide the considerable muscles of his arms. A tattoo of strange symbols encircled his left biceps, the black ink gleaming in the bright lights.

He examined her closet-sized office with typical Fae arrogance—and disapproval. “Your star glows in my presence because our union is predestined. In case you were wondering.”

Bryce barked out a laugh. “Says who?”

“The Oracle.”

“Which one?” There were twelve sphinxes around the world, each one bitchier than the last. The meanest of them, apparently, dwelled in the Ocean Queen’s court Beneath.

“Does it matter?” Cormac turned, noting the shell-white dress Bryce wore, the gold bracelets, and, yes, her ample cleavage. Or was he gazing at the star? She supposed it made no difference.

“I just want to know whose ass to kick.”

Cormac’s mouth quirked upward. “I don’t know why I expected a half-breed to be as docile as a pure-blooded female.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“I did not say I preferred a tamer female.”

“Gross. What did the Oracle say to you, exactly?”

“What did she say to you before she began clawing at her blinded eyes?”

She didn’t want to know how he’d found out. Maybe her father had told him—warned him about his bride. “Old news. I asked first.”

Cormac glowered. “The Oracle of Avallen said I was destined to unite with a princess who possessed a star in her heart. That our mingling would bring great prosperity to our people.”

Bryce drummed her fingers on her glass desk. “A lot of room for interpretation there.” Trust an Oracle to call sex mingling.

“I disagree.”

Bryce sighed. “Tell me why you’re here, then leave, please. I have work to do.”