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

“The war approaches its crescendo. And your power isn’t ready.”

Bryce flicked the length of her ponytail over a shoulder. “How fucking cliché. Whatever my other powers are, I want nothing to do with them. Not if they somehow link me to you—the Asteri will consider that a serious threat. Rightly so.”

“People died so you could have this power. People have been dying in this battle for fifteen thousand years so we could reach this point. Don’t play the reluctant hero now. That is the cliché.”

Bryce seemed at a loss for words, so Hunt stepped in. “What about your eldest brother, with his armies? They seem perfectly content to slaughter innocent Midgardians.”

“Those armies have always been to help you. Not to conquer.”

“The attack on this city last spring suggests otherwise,” Hunt argued.

“A mistake,” Aidas said. “The beasts that swept in were … pets. Animals. Micah opened the doors to their pens. They ran amok as they saw fit. Fortunately, you took control of the situation before our intervention was required,” he said, smiling at Bryce.

“A lot of people died,” Ithan growled. “Children died.”

“And more will soon die in this war,” Aidas countered coolly. “Hel’s armies shall strike at your command, Bryce Quinlan.”

The words dropped like a bomb.

“Bullshit,” Ruhn said, face crinkling as he snarled. “You’re waiting for the right moment when we’re all at war with each other, so you’ll be able to find a way into this world at last.”

“Not at all,” Aidas said. “I already know the way into this world.” He pointed with a paw to Bryce and inclined his head. “Through my lovely Bryce and the Horn on her back.” Hunt suppressed a growl at the word my as all of them looked to her. Her eyes remained fixed on Aidas, her lips a thin line. The Prince of the Chasm said, “It’s your choice in the end. It has always been your choice.”

Bryce shook her head. “Allow me to get this straight: You’re here to convince me to rebel against the Asteri in front of all these people? And what—sign up with Ophion? No, thank you.”

Aidas only chuckled. “You should have looked more carefully at the cats picking through the trash in the alley of Ink Street this morning. Should have picked a more discreet location to discuss the rebellion with Fury Axtar.” Bryce hissed, but said nothing as Aidas went on, “But yes—by all means, turn rebel. Help Ophion, if you need some authority to answer to. I can tell you before you undoubtedly ask, I have no information about the connection between Danika Fendyr and Sofie Renast.”

Bryce growled, “I don’t even know any Ophion rebels.”

Aidas stretched out his front paws, back arching. “That’s not true.” Hunt stilled as the demon yawned. “There’s one right behind you.”

Bryce whirled, Hunt with her, lightning poised to strike.

Cormac Donnall stood in the doorway, shadows fading from his shoulders.

“Hello, Agent Silverbow,” Aidas crooned, then vanished.





16

“I’m sorry,” Ruhn blurted, gaping at the Avallen Prince in the doorway, “you’re what?” Bryce’s gaze darted between her brother and their cousin. Ithan was sniffing delicately toward Cormac, clearly putting together who stood before them.

“Agent Silverbow?” Tharion demanded.

Ruhn went on, “Does your father know about this? Does my father?” Bryce swapped a glance with her brother. They could use this. Maybe she’d get out of the engagement—

Cormac’s face darkened with menace. “No. Nor will they ever.” Threat rumbled in every word.

Bryce might have joined in on the interrogation, had the star on her chest not flared through the fabric of her dress. She clapped a hand over it.

Trust Aidas to reveal Cormac’s secret and then bail. Bryce had a strong feeling that the Prince of the Chasm had also let Cormac through the wards using his unholy power.

Fucking demon.

Cormac bristled as he glared around the room. “What the fuck do you know about Sofie Renast?”

Bryce pushed her hand harder against her chest, grinding against her sternum as she countered, “What the fuck do you know about Sofie Renast, Agent Silverbow?”

Cormac whirled on her, stalking closer. “Answer me.”

Hunt casually stepped into his path. Lightning danced over his wings. Alphahole to the core, yet it warmed something in her.

Tharion slumped onto the couch, an arm slung lazily along the back cushions, and peered at his nails. He drawled to Cormac, “And you are?”

Shadows ran down Cormac’s arms, trailing like smoke from his shoulders. Like Ruhn’s shadows—only darker, more feral somehow. Some small part of her was impressed. The Avallen Prince growled, “Cormac Donnall. I’ll ask one more time, mer. What do you know about Sofie?”

Tharion crossed an ankle over a knee. “How do you know I’m mer?” Solas, was Tharion riling him for the Hel of it?

“Because you reek of fish,” Cormac spat, and Tharion, gods bless him, lifted an arm to sniff his armpit. Ithan chuckled. Most Vanir could detect when a mer was in their humanoid form by that scent of water and salt—not an unpleasant one, but definitely distinct.