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



“Me?” Isaiah said, choking. “Athalar—”

Hunt lifted a few feet off the ground, hovering a beat as the autumn breeze ruffled his wings, his hair, singing of the newness of the world to come. “Lead the angels, Isaiah. I’m here if you need me.”

“Hunt.”

But Hunt shot into the skies, headed for Bryce and whatever tomorrow might bring.



* * *



Bryce’s soul was hers. It had always been hers, she supposed, but it had been … on loan.

Now that it was fully hers again, there was a whole new world to explore without the Asteri lurking about. A whole new afterlife, when she and Hunt were ready.

But not for a long, long time. Not while they still had so much to sort out.

There was one task she had to do immediately, though. How Isaiah managed to commandeer a helicopter to fly to Nena so quickly, Bryce had no idea. But maybe it had something to do with Celestina’s pull, even from Ephraim’s keep. Or maybe it was more about Celestina wanting to impress Hypaxia, who was now apparently the Head of the House of Flame and Shadow. And who didn’t seem opposed to the idea of speaking to Celestina again, if the looks they’d been sneaking each other’s way were any indication.

The Ocean Queen and her fleet had brought the witch over here—Hypaxia had intercepted the monarch on her way to beat the shit out of the Asteri for kidnapping Lidia’s two sons. The Ocean Queen might be a piece of work, but she stood by her own. And when two children had been kidnapped from her care, she’d shown up prepared to wash the entire city away in their defense.

She and her commanders remained in the Eternal City, the threat of the tsunami she held leashed around the perimeter keeping any Asteri loyalists at bay. At least the ruler seemed too busy with the new world to deal with her petty bullshit with Tharion. For now.

It was a new world. In almost every sense.

Declan was already working with a team on the math of how long Midgard could run on what remained of the firstlight before it went dark, without new firstlight being fed into the power grid. Before they had to pull out the candles and watch their mobile phones slowly die. Not that they’d have any service once the grids failed.

They’d all be back to Avallen-style living. Too bad Morven wasn’t around to enjoy it.

But they’d have to figure it out soon. Whether they wanted to restore the firstlight power system or try to find an alternate method. Whether they’d require people to hand over their power, or perhaps tax the uber-powerful. Require Archangels, who had power in spades, to donate some of their power to the grid. The powerful, serving the weak.

Or some shit like that. Honestly, Bryce planned to leave it to smarter minds than hers to sort out. Though she had little hope that she wouldn’t have to step in to kick some ass before all was said and done. For right now … There was a capital city in chaos. A world turned upside down. Yet she set her sights northward.

Bryce found Nesta in the same room the female had been in before. With Ember and Randall and a handsome, vaguely familiar winged male beside them, who smelled like Nesta’s mate. Sitting around a table and talking over tea and chocolate cake.

Chocolate cake, for fuck’s sake.

Nesta was instantly on her feet, a long dagger in her hand. The male beside her also reached for a concealed weapon, swift as a thought.

But Bryce only gazed at her parents. Happy and at home with the Fae.

Her mom stared back at her like she’d seen a ghost. The teacup she was holding began rattling against its saucer.

Hunt spared Ember from guessing at what had passed by saying, “The Asteri are gone. Midgard is free.”

A tear fell from Ember’s eye. Bryce didn’t think twice before stepping into that world and wrapping her arms around her mother. Holding her tight.

Ember clasped Bryce’s face in her hands. “I am so proud to be your mother.”

Bryce beamed, her own eyes stinging with tears, and Randall leaned in to press a kiss to her head. “You did good, kid.”

Bryce threw her arms around her dad and hugged him, too. Hugged the human warrior who had served in the Asteri’s armies, shredded apart his soul for them, until her mom had put him back together.

Nesta and her mate tensed, and Bryce knew Hunt had stepped into their world.

He peered around the room. Glanced at the city sparkling far below, a ribbon of river winding through it. They had to be high up on a mountain for this kind of view.

Nesta’s mate said, “You have one minute before Rhys gets here and explodes.”

“Oh, Rhys will be fine, Cassian,” Ember said—in the Fae’s language.

At Bryce’s shocked face, Randall said in the same language, “It got too hard to mime everything. They gave us that bean-thing they offered you.”

But Bryce shook her head. “Rhysand will be fine? The guy who brings darkness incarnate—”

“He and Randall bonded about being overprotective dads,” Ember said. “So now Rhys knows exactly the sort of shit you like to pull, which apparently you pulled here, too …”

Bryce glanced to Nesta, who was watching warily. So Bryce reached into her jacket and pulled out the Mask. “Here. As promised.”

Everyone fell silent.

And then Bryce drew Truth-Teller, and Cassian looked like he’d jump between her and Nesta. Hunt set his feet into a fighting stance in response, but Bryce just said, “Alphaholes,” and laid the dagger on the table between their tea set and treats.