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

“You literally carry a sword.”

“That has a different impact on people than a gun.”

True. Randall had taught her that a long time ago. Swords could mean hope, resistance, strength. Guns meant death. They were to be respected, but only as weapons of killing, even in defense.

Bryce’s phone rang, and she checked the caller ID before shutting off the ringer and sliding it into her pocket.

“Who’s that?” Ruhn asked, glancing at her sidelong as thunder grumbled. People began clearing the streets, darting into shops and buildings to avoid the downpour. With the arid climate, summer storms were usually violent and swift, prone to flooding the streets.

“My mom,” Bryce said. “I’ll call her later.” She fished out a postcard from her purse and waved it at Ruhn. “She’s probably calling about this.”

“A postcard?” On the front, it said Greetings from Nidaros! in a cheery font.

Bryce slid it back into her purse. “Yeah. It’s a thing from when I was a kid. We’d get into a huge fight, and my mom would send me postcards as a weird kind of apology. Like, we might not be talking in person, but we’d start communicating again through postcards.”

“But you were living in the same house?”

Bryce laughed again. “Yeah. She’d put them under my door and I’d put them under hers. We’d write about everything but the fight. We kept doing it when I went to CCU, and afterward.” Bryce riffled through her bag and pulled out a blank postcard of an otter waving that said, Keep It Fuzzy, Lunathion! “I’m going to send her one later. Seems easier than a phone call.”

He asked, “Are you going to tell her about … everything?”

“Are you crazy?”

“What about the engagement being a ruse? Surely that’d get her off your back.”

“Why do you think I’m avoiding her calls?” Bryce asked. “She’ll say I’m playing with fire. Literally, considering Cormac’s power. There’s no winning with her.”

Ruhn chuckled. “You know, I would have really liked to have her as my stepmom.”

Bryce snickered. “Weird. You’re, like, twenty years older than her.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t need a mom to kick my ass every now and then.” He said it with a grin, but … Ruhn’s relationship with his own mother was strained. She wasn’t cruel, merely out to lunch. Ruhn took care of her these days. He knew his father certainly wouldn’t.

Bryce spoke before she had the chance to consider it. “I’m thinking of going home to Nidaros for the Winter Solstice. Hunt’s coming. You want to join?” Now that she and Hunt had adjusted their timeline, Bryce supposed she could be a decent human being and go home for the holiday.

That is, if her mom forgave her for the engagement. And not telling her about it.

Rain splattered the pavement, but Ruhn stopped. His eyes filled with such hope and happiness that Bryce’s chest hurt. But he said, “Bringing Hunt home, huh?”

She couldn’t help her blush. “Yep.”

“Big step, bringing home the boyfriend.”

She waved him off, but cringed at the rain that now became a deluge. They still had five blocks to the training center. “Let’s wait it out,” she said, ducking under an empty restaurant’s awning. The Istros lay a block away, close enough that Bryce could see the veils of rain lashing its surface. Even the mer weren’t out in this.

Rain streamed off the awning, thick as a waterfall, joining the veritable river already flowing down to the gaping sewer entrance at the corner of the block. Ruhn said over the din, “You really want me to come home with you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Assuming they were still alive by December. If this rebellion shit hadn’t killed them all.

Ruhn’s tattooed throat bobbed. “Thanks. I normally spend it with Dec and his family, but … I don’t think they’ll mind if I skip this year.”

She nodded, awkward silence setting in. They usually had the training to occupy them during any tense silences, but now, trapped by the rain … she kept quiet, waiting to see what Ruhn might say.

“Why won’t you touch the Starsword?”

She twisted, gesturing to the black hilt of the blade peeking over his shoulder. “It’s yours.”

“It’s yours, too.”

“I’ve got Danika’s sword. And you found it first. Doesn’t seem fair of me to claim it.”

“You’re more Starborn than I am. You should have it.”

“That’s bullshit.” She backed up a step. “I don’t want it.” She could have sworn the rain, the wind, paused. Seemed to listen. Even the temperature seemed to drop.

“Aidas said you’ve got the light of the true Starborn Queen. I’m just the heir to some rapist asshole.”

“Does it matter? I like that you’re the Chosen One.”

“Why?”

“Because …” She hooked her hair behind her ears, then fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “I already have this star on my chest.” She touched the scar gently. The hair on her arms rose as if in answer. “I don’t need a fancy sword to add to it.”

“But I do?”