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

Before Hunt’s lightning could strike, Bryce’s starlight flared again. The hand fell back, a low hiss skimming over the rocks. “Super Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess, indeed,” Hunt said, impressed.

But Bryce turned toward the lines the ghoul had gouged into the rock, running a hand over them. She rubbed the bits of dust and debris between her forefinger and thumb, sniffed it once, then slid her gaze to Hunt. “Flynn’s right: I don’t like it here.” She licked—fucking licked—the dark substance on her fingers and grimaced. “Nope. Not at all.”

Sathia, still a few steps behind Bryce, shivered. “Can you feel it, then? How … dead it all seems? Like there’s something festering here.”

Hunt had no idea what the Hel either female was talking about, and from Tharion’s and Baxian’s baffled expressions, they didn’t, either.

Bryce only moved on into the dark and mists. They had no choice but to keep pace with her, to stay in that protective bubble of starlight.

“There’s water ahead,” Baxian said, his advanced hearing picking it up before Hunt could detect it. “A river—a big one, from the sound of it.”

Bryce slid Hunt a look. “Good thing we’ve got two hunky dudes with wings.”

And there it was again—that gleam in her eyes. There and gone, but … he could almost hear her brain working. Connecting some dots he couldn’t see.

“Stay close,” Bryce murmured, leading them deeper into the cave. “I’ve spent a disgusting amount of time underground lately, and I can tell you there’s nothing good coming our way.”



* * *



Flynn and Dec left to grab everyone lunch, and Ruhn resigned himself to working in silence with Lidia, only the rustle of paper and slamming of fruitless drawers for sound.

He found nothing. Neither did she, he concluded from her occasional sighs of frustration. So different from the contented, near-purring sighs she’d made in his arms that time their souls had merged, as he’d moved in her—

Cousin.

Ruhn slowly, slowly turned toward the towering open doorway. No one stood there. Only the gray day lay beyond.

On your left.

Seamus leaned against a nearby stack, arms crossed. A dagger was buckled over his broad chest, just as it had been all those decades ago. As it had been then, the male’s dark hair was cut close to his head—to avoid an enemy getting a grip on it, Ruhn knew. And if Seamus was there, then that meant—

On your right, Duncan said into his mind, and Ruhn glanced the other way to find Seamus’s brother leaning in a mirror position on the opposite stack. In lieu of a dagger, Duncan carried a slender sword strapped down his spine.

Ruhn kept both of them in his line of sight. What do you want?

Instinct had already kept his mind veiled in stars and shadows, but he did a quick mental scan to ensure his walls were intact.

Duncan sneered. Our uncle sent us to make sure the female was behaving herself.

Ruhn glanced at Lidia, still searching the catalog. Fuck, her mind was unguarded—

It was second nature, really, to leap for her mind. As if he could somehow shield her from them.

But on the other end of that mental bridge, a wall of fire smoldered. It wasn’t just fire—it was a conflagration that swirled sky-high, as if generating its own winds and weather. Magma seemed to churn beneath it, visible through cracks in the whirling storm of flame.

Well, he didn’t need to worry about her, then.

You spoil our fun, cousin, Seamus said.

She’d be fun to rummage through, Duncan added.

Ruhn eyed the males. Get lost.

Her presence defiles this place, Seamus said, attention sliding to Lidia and fixing on her shoulder blades with an intensity Ruhn didn’t like one fucking bit.

So does yours, Ruhn shot back.

Seamus’s dark eyes shifted toward Ruhn once more. We can smell you on her, you know. Seamus’s teeth flashed. Tell me: Was it like fucking a Reaper?

A low growl slipped out of Ruhn, and Lidia turned at the sound. She showed no surprise. As if she’d been aware of their presence this whole time, and had been waiting for some sort of signal to interfere.

She looked coolly between his cousins. “Seamus. Duncan. I’ll thank you to stay out of my mind.”

Seamus bristled, pure Fae menace. “Did we talk to you, bitch?”

Ruhn clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, but Lidia lifted those golden eyes to the twin princes and said, “Shall I demonstrate how I make males like you talk to me?”

Duncan snarled. “You’re lucky our uncle gave the word to stand down. Or else we’d have already told the Asteri you’re here, Hind.”

“Good dogs,” Lidia said. “I’ll be sure to advise Morven to give you both a treat.”

Ruhn’s lips twitched upward. But—she’d told him to act like the prince he was. So he schooled his face into icy neutrality. A mask as hard as Lidia’s. “Tell Morven we’ll send word if we require his assistance,” he said to his cousins.

The dismissal found its mark better than any taunt. Duncan pushed off the bookshelf, hand curling at his side—shadows wrapping around his knuckles. Darker, wilder than Ruhn’s. As if they’d been captured from a storm-tossed night.

“You’re an embarrassment to our people,” Duncan said. “A disgrace.”