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

Hunt had seen enough of the Ocean Queen to know how well that would go down.

Bryce said cautiously, “But your sons …”

“If we survive, my enemies will be dead,” Lidia said, chin lifting with queenly grace. “And surely she will have no need of my services anymore.” She nodded to Tharion. “I’m not going back, and neither should you. The age of unchecked rulers is over.” She motioned to the ruins. “This is the first step.”

A chill went down Hunt’s spine at the surety of her words. Bryce opened her mouth like she might say something.

But Baxian pivoted toward Declan, as if he’d sensed something off. A second later, Declan’s head snapped up.

A foreboding quiet settled over Hunt. Over all of them.

No one spoke as Declan approached. As the male’s throat bobbed. And when he looked at Ruhn, at Bryce, tears shone in his eyes.

“The Asteri made their move.”

Bryce grabbed Hunt’s arm, as if it would keep her from falling.

“Tell me,” Lidia said, pushing through them to get to Declan.

Declan glanced at the Hind, then back to Bryce. “The Asteri organized a hit, led by Pollux and Mordoc, on every Ophion base. They wiped them off the map.”

“Fuck,” Hunt breathed.

But Declan was shaking his head. “They wiped out everyone in their camps, too.”

Hunt’s knees shook.

And when Declan looked to Bryce, Hunt knew immediately that it would be bad. Wished he could undo it, whatever it was—

“And they dispatched their Asterian Guard to Asphodel Meadows. They … they said it was a hotbed of rebel activity.”

Bryce began shaking her head, backing away.

Declan’s voice broke as he said, “They unleashed ten brimstone missiles on the Meadows. On everyone living there.”





PART III


THE ASCENT





65


Ithan stood on the deck of a fishing boat that had seen better decades, Hypaxia at his side. Apparently, Jesiba Roga didn’t think the two of them needed to travel in style.

But at least the shark-shifter crew hadn’t asked questions. And had kept their own counsel as they cut the engine and the boat bobbed in the gray swells of the Haldren, right in front of the impenetrable, sky-high wall of mist.

Ithan nodded to the broken brooch on Hypaxia’s cloak. “Any chance your broom still works? We could fly over them.”

“No,” Hypaxia said. “And besides, only Morven can let us through.”

Ithan reached a hand toward the mists, twining it through his fingers. “So how do we contact him? Knock on the barrier? Send up a flare?”

His tone was more cheerful than he felt. Somewhere beyond these mists lay Sofie’s body. Apparently, Morven had told Jesiba they could have it—his late son had shipped it to his home, and the Fae King hadn’t yet bothered to have it tossed into the garbage. A stroke of luck sent from Urd herself. Jesiba had promised that Morven wouldn’t touch it—that he’d be glad to dump the body into their hands.

That is, if they could get through the barrier. Hypaxia lifted a light brown hand to the mists, as if testing them. “They feel …”

As if in answer, the curtain of the mists shuddered and parted.

Sunlight flooded through. Gray seas turned turquoise. The wind warmed to a balmy, gentle breeze. A paradise lay beyond.

Even the gruff shark shifters gasped in shock. But Ithan glanced at Hypaxia, who was wide-eyed as well. “What’s wrong?”

Hypaxia slowly shook her head. “This is not the Avallen I have visited before.”

“What do you mean?” Every instinct went on alert, his wolf at the ready.

Hypaxia motioned to the captain to start sailing through the parted mists, toward the lush, beckoning land. Prettier than even the Coronal Islands. The former witch-queen breathed, “Something tremendous has occurred here.”

Ithan sighed. “Please tell me it was a good tremendous change?”

Her silence wasn’t reassuring.



* * *



Hunt found Bryce sitting atop the ruins of what had once been a tower, tangles of blooming vines and roses all around her. A beautiful, surreal place for a Fae Queen to rest.

The land seemed to know her, small blooming flowers nestling around her body, some of them even curling in the long strands of her hair.

Yet her face when Hunt sat beside her was hollow. Devastated.

Dried tears had left salty tracks down her cheeks. And her whiskey-colored eyes, usually so full of life and fire, were vacant. Vacant in a way he hadn’t seen since that time he’d found her at Lethe, drinking away her grief at Danika’s death, the wound reopened when she realized her father had withheld vital information that would have helped with the investigation.

Hunt sat at her side on an uneven bit of tumbled stone and slid a wing around her. From up here, he could see the scattering of islands amid the vibrant teal of the ocean. Avallen had awoken into a paradise, and part of him ached to leap into the skies and explore every inch of it, but …

“All that new power from Theia,” Bryce said hoarsely, “and it didn’t amount to shit. I didn’t find it in time to help anyone—save anyone.”

Hunt kissed her temple and promised, “We’ll make it count, Bryce.”