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

“Your friends will not be pleased. Athalar in particular.”

“Leave Athalar to me.” He didn’t answer to the angel. Though his sister …

Cormac observed him once more. “When you want out, I’ll get you out. I promise.”

Ruhn sank his last ball into his chosen pocket and leaned the stick against the concrete wall. “I’ll hold you to that.”





20

The water dripping from Tharion’s wave skimmer onto the plastic floor of the dry dock in the Blue Court was the only sound as he repaired the vehicle. His sweat dripped along with it, despite the chamber’s cool temperature. He’d stripped off his shirt within minutes of arriving here, even its soft cotton too confining against his skin as he worked. Reeds had gotten stuck in the engine during his trip out to the marshes the other day, and though the engineering team could have easily fixed the issue, he’d wanted to do it himself.

Wanted to give his mind some time to sort everything out.

When he’d awoken that morning, talking to the Prince of the Chasm—pretending to be a cat, for Urd’s sake—hadn’t been remotely near the list of possibilities for his day. Nor had finding out that an Avallen prince was an Ophion rebel searching for Sofie Renast’s younger brother. Or that Danika Fendyr had sent Sofie to gather some vital intel on the Asteri. No, he’d awoken with only one goal: learn what Ithan Holstrom knew.

A whole lot of nothing, apparently.

Some Captain of Intelligence. Captain Whatever, Holstrom had called him. Tharion was half-inclined to get it etched into a plaque for his desk.

But at least Holstrom had agreed to help out should Tharion need his nose to find the kid. If Pippa Spetsos was hunting for Emile as Cormac had claimed, politics and Sofie and his queen aside … they needed to find the kid first. If only to spare him from being forced to use those thunderbird powers in horrible ways. Holstrom would be a valuable asset in that endeavor.

And besides—the wolf seemed like he needed something to do.

The door to the dry dock room whooshed open, ushering in a scent of bubbling streams and water lilies. Tharion kept his attention on the engine, the wrench clenched in his hand.

“I heard you were here,” said a lilting female voice, and Tharion plastered a smile on his face as he looked over a shoulder at the River Queen’s daughter.

She wore her usual diaphanous pale blue gown, offsetting the warm brown of her skin. River pearls and shards of abalone gleamed in her thick black curls, cascading well past her slim shoulders to the small of her back. She glided toward him on bare feet, the chill water coating the floor seemingly not bothering her at all. She always moved like that: as if she were floating underwater. She had no mer form—was only a fraction mer, actually. She was some kind of elemental humanoid, as at home in the open air as she was beneath the surface. Part woman, part river.

Tharion held up his wrench, a strip of river weed tangled around the tip. “Repairs.”

“Why do you still insist on doing them yourself?”

“Gives me a tangible task.” He leaned against the wave skimmer on the lift behind him, the water beading its sides cool against his hot skin.

“Is your work for my mother so unfulfilling that you need such things?”

Tharion offered a charming smile. “I like to pretend I know what I’m doing around machines,” he deflected.

She gave him a light laugh in return, coming closer. Tharion kept himself perfectly still, refusing to shy from the hand she laid on his bare chest. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“Your mother’s been keeping me busy.” Take it up with her.

A small, shy smile. “I’d hoped we could …” She blushed, and Tharion caught the meaning.

They hadn’t done that in years. Why now? Water-spirits were capricious—he’d figured she’d gotten him, had him, lost interest, and moved on. Even if the vows between them still bound them together irreparably.

Tharion covered her small hand with his own, brushing his thumb over the velvety skin. “It’s late, and I have an early start.”

“And yet you’re here, toiling on this … machine.” She took after her mother when it came to technology. Had barely mastered the concept of a computer, despite lessons with Tharion. He wondered if she even knew the name for the machine behind him.

“I need it for tomorrow’s work.” A lie.

“More than you need me?”

Yes. Definitely yes.

But Tharion gave another one of those grins. “Another time, I promise.”

“I heard you went into the city today.”

“I’m always in the city.”

She eyed him, and he noted the jealous, wary gleam.

“Who did you see?”

“Some friends.”

“Which ones?”

How many interrogations had begun like this and ended in her crying to her mother? The last one had been only a few days ago. Afterward, he’d wound up on that boat in the Haldren Sea, hunting for Sofie Renast’s remains.

He said carefully, “Bryce Quinlan, Ruhn Danaan, Ithan Holstrom, and Hunt Athalar.” No need to mention Aidas or Prince Cormac. They weren’t his friends.

“Bryce Quinlan—the girl from this spring? With the star?”

He wasn’t surprised she only asked about the female. “Yeah.” Another wary look that Tharion pretended not to notice as he said casually, “She and Athalar are dating now, you know. A nice ending after everything that went down.”