House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City #3) by Sarah J. Maas

Then she bounded off into the trees, a streak of sunlight that was there and gone.

Like she’d never been.



* * *



Ruhn scanned the forest where Lidia had vanished, his hand rising to his neck. The skin there was warm, as if her touch still lingered.

“Right,” Athalar grunted, stooping to reach for Ruhn’s legs. “On three.” Baxian tightened his grip under Ruhn’s shoulders.

Wings stirred, and Ruhn stirred with them. “Lidia,” he croaked.

But Athalar and Baxian jumped into the skies, both males groaning in agony, the world tilting—and then they were airborne, Athalar holding Ruhn’s legs, Baxian at his shoulders.

Ruhn hung like a sack of potatoes. His stomach flipped at the dizzying drop to the arid ground far below. The mountain rising before them. The glittering blue sea stretching beyond.

Behind them, shooting among the olive trees like a bolt of lightning, raced that beautiful, near-white doe. A hind.

To reach the sea, she’d have to ascend through the hilly groves, and then right up the rocky mountain itself.

Was there a way down on the other side? She’d only mentioned an aerial landing when she’d spoken to Dec. Not a sea rescue. Or a land rescue.

Lidia wasn’t coming.

The realization clanged through Ruhn like a death knell.

“Oh fuck,” Athalar spat, and Ruhn followed the direction of the angel’s gaze behind them.

A pack of two dozen dreadwolves streamed like ants through the forest. All headed straight for that deer.

A wolf larger than the others led the pack—Mordoc. Closing in fast on Lidia as the hills slowed her.

“Stop,” Ruhn rasped. “We have to go back.”

“No,” Athalar said coldly, his grip tightening on Ruhn’s legs.

Which was faster—a deer or a wolf?

If they caught up to her, it’d be over. Lidia had known that, and gone anyway.

“Put me down,” Ruhn snarled, but the malakim held him firm, so hard his bones ached.

The wolves narrowed the distance, as if the hills were nothing to them. But Athalar and Baxian had caught an air current and were soaring swiftly enough now that Lidia rapidly shrank in the distance—

“PUT ME DOWN!” Ruhn roared, or tried to. His voice, hoarse from screaming, could barely rise above a whisper.

“Aerial legion from the east,” Baxian announced to Hunt.

Ruhn looked up, following Athalar’s line of sight. Sure enough, like a cloud of locusts, soldiers surged for them.

“Fuckers,” Athalar hissed, wings beating faster. Baxian kept pace as they swooped toward the sea.

Farther from Lidia, who now neared the top of the towering mountain. That was the last Ruhn saw of her as they soared over the arid peak.

Open ocean spread before them. Ruhn twisted, trying to keep an eye on Lidia.

His stomach dropped.

As if Ogenas herself had sliced it in half, the mountain’s seaward side had been shaved off. There was nothing waiting for Lidia but a straight, lethal plunge to the water hundreds of feet below.





35


Hunt blocked out Ruhn’s screams and cursing. He knew he’d have been in the same state if it had been Bryce out there, being run aground by two dozen dreadwolves. He’d made those sounds once, long ago—when Shahar and Sandriel had plummeted toward the earth, Shahar’s blood streaming—

The glare of the sun on the sea made his head throb. Or maybe that was his injuries and exhaustion. Each flap of his wings sent agony rocking through him, threatening to steal his breath. He took it into his heart, though. Embraced the pain. He deserved every pulse of it.

But there, emerging from the water like a breaching whale …

A shining metal hatch cleared the surface. Then a person burst through it, waving frantically. And Hunt could only wonder if he was hallucinating as he realized it was Tharion signaling to them, urging them on from the narrow exterior deck atop the Depth Charger.

Hunt and Baxian dove, and Ketos leapt onto the nose of the mighty ship, shouting something that the wind devoured.

Toward the coast, angels were gaining speed, closing in. The cool spray of waves stung every inch of Hunt, salt burning in his open wounds. He half fell the last ten feet onto the soaked metal of the ship.

Tharion raced forward, face stark with urgency. “I said land in the hatch!” the mer yelled.

Hunt ground his teeth, but Ruhn had shot to his feet, swaying, dangerously close to falling into the water. “Lidia,” he gasped to Tharion, pointing to the cliffs. He swayed again, and Tharion caught him. Ruhn gripped the mer’s muscled forearm with his good hand. Tharion’s eyes dropped to the prince’s missing hand. The mer paled.

But Ruhn groaned, “You have to help her.”

“This ship can’t get any closer to shore,” Tharion said placatingly.

“Not this ship,” Ruhn snarled with impressive menace. “You.”

Hunt eyed the mountain—the cliff looming like a giant at the distant shore. “Ruhn, even if Lidia can make it to the edge … that’s a deadly drop.” She’d be splattered on the surface of the water.

“Please,” Ruhn said, voice breaking as he scanned Tharion’s face.

Tharion looked to Hunt. Then Baxian. Apparently realized they were in no shape to fly another foot.

Tharion sighed but declared, “Always happy to provide the heroics.” The mer passed the prince over to Baxian, and stripped out of his clothes. Utterly unconcerned by his nudity, the mer leapt into the cobalt swells and, a heartbeat later, his massive tail splashed the surface. He didn’t look back before he disappeared under the water, a flash of orange against the blue.