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

She wished she had something else to leave them, some other piece of her that wasn’t connected to the monster who’d sired her, but this was all she possessed.

Task complete, Lidia stood, and Renki glanced her way. She nodded to him.

She faced her sons—fierce and strong and capable, no thanks to her. “I know it won’t matter to you,” she said, staring at Ace as he again pointedly watched the TV, “but I’m so very proud of how you turned out. Of the males you are, and are still becoming. I look at you both and know that … that I made the right choice.” She smiled softly at Brann.

Brann’s eyes gleamed. “Thanks for that. For giving us our parents.” He motioned to Renki. Lidia bowed her head. “Good luck out there,” Brann said. “Wherever you’re going.”

She put a hand on her heart.

Brann jabbed Ace with an elbow. Ace slid his golden eyes back to her and said, “Bye.”

Lidia kept her hand on her heart, tapping it once, and turned away.

She left, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to keep moving or else she’d find some place to crumple up and die.

She walked through the gleaming halls of the ship. Walked and walked and walked, and did not let herself look back.



* * *



Ithan only waited until the door to Jesiba’s office shut before he whirled on Hypaxia.

“What happened?” Ithan demanded.

Jesiba had warned him before setting off through the halls to keep quiet, and he’d obeyed, even while they’d stopped in the dark dining hall for the former witch-queen to get some food. Apparently, she hadn’t eaten in days—that alone had banked his rising impatience. But now, safely behind the locked doors to Jesiba’s office, they’d get answers.

“It’s as I said,” Hypaxia replied, voice a bit flat as she laid the tray of food on the table. “My mother’s former general, Morganthia, had her forces surround my fortress. They gave me their terms: yield the cloudberry crown or die. I offered the crown, but they somehow heard die.”

“Can they do that?” Ithan demanded. “Just … kick you out?”

“Yes,” Jesiba said, claiming her leather desk chair. “The witch-dynasties were founded in fairness, in the right to remove an unfit ruler. It was meant to protect the people, but Morganthia has used it to her advantage.”

Hypaxia sank into one of the chairs before Jesiba’s desk and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. It was the most normal-looking gesture Ithan had ever seen the queen make. “Morganthia’s first act as queen was to order my execution. Her second was to undo my mother’s animation spell for my tutors.” She added at Ithan’s raised brows, “They are—were—ghosts.”

How it was possible, he had no idea, but he still said, “I’m sorry.”

She nodded her thanks, voice weighted with grief. “The spell was bound to the crown. And once that crown was hers …” She looked up at Jesiba, her face full of pleading.

“You mourn for three people long dead,” Jesiba said coolly, and Ithan hated her for it. “Mourn for your people instead, now beholden to an unhinged queen and her coven.”

Hypaxia straightened. “You sound as if you think I should have fought her.”

“You should have,” Jesiba shot back, dark fire flashing in her eyes. A seed of Apollion’s power—transformed into something new. “Did you even try to hold on to your crown before conceding?”

“I would have died.”

“And retained your honor. Your mother would have been proud.”

“A bloodless coup was a better alternative to fighting, to bringing in innocents to die in my name—”

“Once she gets her reign underway, Morganthia will spill far more blood than what might have been shed for you.” Jesiba closed her eyes and shook her head with pure disgust.

“I did not come here for your judgment, Jesiba,” Hypaxia hissed, wilder than Ithan had ever witnessed her.

“As I am second in command of this House, you now answer to me.”

Ithan reined in the shock that reared through him. Jesiba was second in command of the House of Flame and Shadow?

And she thought Hypaxia was the best necromancer for Ithan? When she had all those others at her disposal?

“And,” Jesiba went on to Hypaxia, heedless of Ithan’s surprise, “as someone who spent centuries with the witches, I have insights worthy of your attention.”

Hypaxia snapped, “You abandoned our people.”

“So did you.”

Fraught, miserable silence filled the room. Hypaxia took one bite—just one—of her ham-and-cheese sandwich.

Hypaxia didn’t know, Ithan realized, what Jesiba was, deep down. She still thought her a witch defector. “Look,” he said, “I know you guys have some baggage to sort out, but … I do have a pressing matter.”

The former witch-queen turned to him, and her eyes softened. She took another bite of her sandwich, and said after she’d swallowed, “Jesiba apprised me of the situation when she called. I must admit, I was surprised by my sister’s involvement. But I am sorry for what happened.”

He bowed his head, shame washing through him.

Hypaxia went on, finishing off the sandwich in a few more bites, “But necromancy is no easy thing, Ithan.”