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

Holy gods, his wife had balls. Tharion wisely wiped any sort of reaction from his face, but Ogenas damn him, if they survived this meeting, he wanted Sathia to teach him everything she knew.

The River Queen scoffed, but angled her head before changing the subject. “How does the girl suddenly wield such power?”

“That is her own story to tell,” Sathia said, folding her hands behind her back, “but she has powerful allies. In this world and in others.”

“Others?”

Tharion dared say, turning his voice into a mirror of his wife’s poised calm, “Bryce counts the Princes of Hel as allies.”

“Then she is an enemy to Midgard. And an imbecile as well, if she is seeking to hide the people of this city from the demons she’d ally with.”

“She doesn’t seek to hide people from Hel,” Tharion said, “but from the Asteri’s wrath.”

The River Queen blinked slowly. “You ask me to take a stand against the Republic itself.”

“What happened in Asphodel Meadows was a disgrace,” Tharion said, voice dangerously low. “If you don’t stand against the Republic for something of this nature, then you’re complicit in their slaughter.”

Sathia cut him a warning glance, but the River Queen studied him. Like she hadn’t really seen him until this point.

She opened her mouth, and hope surged in Tharion’s chest—

But then the interior door to the room hissed open, and the River Queen’s daughter was charging in, rage and sorrow crumpling her beautiful face as she screamed, “How could you?”



* * *



“Is that a Prince of Hel?” Ember whispered from a few steps behind Bryce, her teeth clacking with cold.

“Does she look like a prince?” Randall hissed back, snow crunching as he hopped from one foot to another to keep warm.

“Bryce said Aidas appeared to her as a cat, so who’s to say—”

“Guys,” Bryce murmured as Nesta slowly, slowly rose from her chair by the fireplace. A dagger had somehow appeared in the female’s hand, as if it had been concealed under the cushion.

It had worked. They’d managed to make the Northern Rift open to a place other than Hel.

“What are you doing?” Nesta said, and it occurred to Bryce in that moment that none of the others could understand her. Which left Bryce as translator.

So Bryce muttered to Hunt, wide-eyed but poised to leap into action, “Give me a minute,” and faced Nesta.

“I’m not going to harm you, or your world,” Bryce said in Nesta’s own language.

“Then why is there a giant portal in my living room?” Nesta’s blue-gray eyes were gleaming with predatory violence. Some of that silver flame was starting to build at her fingertips. Would it withstand Bryce’s starfire? Especially with the force of that leveled-up power in her body behind it?

But she hadn’t come here for that. “I needed to talk to you.”

“How did you know I’d be alone?”

“I didn’t. Urd threw me a bone.”

The dagger and the silver flame didn’t vanish. “Shut that portal.”

“Not until I say what I need to say.”

The silver flame now flickered in Nesta’s eyes. “Then say it, and be gone.” Her gaze lowered to Bryce’s side. “And leave the dagger you stole.”

Bryce ignored that and swallowed hard.

Ember hissed to Randall, “I don’t think it’s going well.” Randall hushed her.

But Nesta’s eyes slid to Hunt—to the feathered wings, the lightning dancing at his hand, the halo on his brow. “Is that your mate?”

Bryce nodded, and motioned Hunt to step forward. “Hunt Athalar.” She’d never fucking use Danaan again. For either of them.

Hunt approached and inclined his head. Bryce could have sworn lightning lashed across his eyes, as if the power he’d summoned, enough to open the Northern Rift, was riding him hard.

But Nesta only observed him imperiously, then turned to Bryce. “What do you want?”

Bryce squared her shoulders. “I need you to give me the Mask.”





77


“Is that a request or a threat?” Nesta asked quietly, and even with a portal between them, the ground seemed to shudder at the female’s power.

“It’s a plea. A desperate fucking plea,” Bryce said, and exposed her palms to the female in supplication. “I need it to give me an edge against the Asteri. To destroy them.”

“No.” Nesta’s eyes held no mercy. “Now shut the portal and be gone.” She glanced over a shoulder, where the stars seemed to be winking out in the far distance. “Before the High Lord gets here and rips you to shreds.”

“What is that?” Hunt murmured, marking the darkness sweeping in.

“Rhysand,” Bryce murmured back, then said to Nesta, “Please. I don’t need the Mask forever. Just … until it’s done. Then I’ll return it.”

Nesta laughed, pure ice. “You expect me to trust a female who tried to deceive and outsmart us at every turn?”

“I did outsmart you,” Bryce said coolly, and Nesta’s eyes sparked at the challenge. “But that’s neither here nor there. Look, I get it—the Mask is insanely powerful and dangerous. I wouldn’t trust someone who asked me to use the Horn, either. But my world needs this.”