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

But she’d told him enough—then kicked the Starsword toward him in the empty training hall and left. Which was when he’d rushed over here.

Flame sparked at his father’s fingers—the first warning of his impatience. So Ruhn asked, “What’s the lore behind this sword?”

His father arched a brow. “You’ve been its bearer for decades. Now you want to know its history?”

Ruhn shrugged. His head still pounded from the blow the Reapers had given him; his stomach churned like he’d been drinking all night. “Does it have any special powers? Weird gifts?”

The Autumn King swept a cold look over Ruhn, from his waterlogged boots to his half-shaved head, the longer hair scraggly thanks to the sewer trip. “Something has happened.”

“Some Reapers tried to jump me, and the sword … reacted.”

A light way of putting it. Had Bryce stayed away from the sword all these years because she somehow sensed that in her hand, it would unleash horrors?

He didn’t want to know what his father would do with the truth. A sword that could kill the unkillable. How many rulers in Midgard would scheme and murder to attain it? Starting with his father and ending with the Asteri.

Maybe they’d get lucky and the information would be contained to the Reapers. But the Under-King …

His father stilled. “How did the sword react?”

“Shouldn’t a father ask if his son is all right? And why the Reapers attacked?”

“You appear unharmed. And I assume you did something to offend them.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“How did the sword react in the presence of the Reapers?”

“It glowed. They ran from it.” It was only a half-lie. “Any idea why?”

“They are already dead. Blades hold no threat to them.”

“Yeah, well … they freaked.”

His father reached for the black blade but halted, remembering himself. It wasn’t his blade to touch.

Ruhn reined in his smirk of satisfaction. But his father watched the various globes and solar system models across his office for a long moment.

Ruhn spied their own solar system in the center of it all. Seven planets around a massive star. Seven Asteri—technically six now—to rule Midgard. Seven Princes of Hel to challenge them.

Seven Gates in this city through which Hel had tried to invade this spring.

Seven and seven and seven and seven—always that holy number. Always—

“It’s an ancient sword,” the Autumn King said at last, drawing Ruhn from his wandering thoughts, “from another world. Made from the metal of a fallen star—a meteorite. This sword exists beyond our planet’s laws. Perhaps the Reapers sensed that and shied away.”

The Reapers had learned precisely how outside the planet’s laws the sword was. It could fucking kill them.

Ruhn opened his mouth, but his father sniffed him again. Frowned. “And when were you going to tell me your sister was involved in this incident? She’s even more reckless than you.”

Ruhn stifled the spike of anger in his gut. “Only fit for breeding, right?”

“She should consider herself lucky I believe her valuable enough for that.”

“You should consider yourself lucky that she didn’t come in here to kick your ass for the betrothal to Cormac.”

His father stalked to the elegant wood liquor cabinet behind his desk and pulled out a crystal decanter of what looked and smelled like whiskey. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for days now.” He poured himself a glass, not bothering to offer Ruhn any, and knocked it back. “I suppose you convinced her not to.”

“She decided all on her own that you weren’t worth the effort.”

His father’s eyes simmered as he set the glass and decanter on the edge of his desk. “If that sword is acting up,” the Autumn King said, ignoring his barb, “I’d suggest keeping it far from your sister.”

Too late. “I offered it to her already. She didn’t want it. I don’t think she’s interested in your politics.”

But she had run into a sewer teeming with Reapers after him. Ruhn’s heart squeezed tight.

His father poured himself another glass of whiskey. The only sign that something about this conversation rattled him. But the Autumn King’s voice was bland as he said, “In ancient times, Starborn rivals would slit each other’s throats. Even those of the children. She is now more powerful than you and I are, as you like to remind me.”

Ruhn resisted the urge to ask whether that had played any part in his father’s slaying of the last Starborn heir. “Are you telling me to kill Bryce?”

His father sipped from the whiskey this time before replying, “If you had any backbone, you would have done it the moment you learned she was Starborn. Now what are you?” Another sip before he said mildly, “A second-rate prince who only possesses the sword because she allows you to have it.”

“Pitting us against each other won’t work.” But those words—second-rate prince—those gouged something deep in him. “Bryce and I are good.”

The Autumn King drained the glass. “Power attracts power. It is her fate to be tied to a powerful male to match her own strength. I would rather not learn what comes of her union with the Umbra Mortis.”