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

Bryce’s stomach twisted as she noted that behind the supplicating Fae, chained humans lay prostrate on the earth, their crudely carved faces a sharp contrast to the otherworldly, pristine beauty of the Fae. Another bit of fucked-up artistry: Humans were little more than rock and dirt compared to the Fae and their godlike masters. Not even worth the effort of carving them. Present only for the Fae to lord their power over them, to crush the humans beneath their heels.

From far away, Rigelus’s voice sounded in Bryce’s memory. The Asteri had once given the humans to the Vanir to have someone to rule over, to keep them from thinking about how they were hardly better off, all of them slaves to the Asteri. It continued on Midgard today, this false sense of superiority and ownership. And it seemed it existed in this world as well.

Nesta finished her cheese, gnawing it right down to the rind, and said without looking at Bryce, “Your star always glows like that?”

“No,” Bryce said, swallowing down the bread. “But down here, it seems to.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I wanted to find out: What it’s leading me toward in this tunnel. Why it’s leading me there.”

“Why you stumbled into our world.” Rhysand or the others must have filled Nesta in on everything before siccing her on Bryce.

Bryce motioned to the tunnel and its ancient carvings. “What is this place, anyway?”

“I told you earlier: We don’t know. Until you crept past the beasts, even Rhys didn’t know this tunnel existed. He certainly didn’t know there were carvings down here.”

“And Rhysand is … your king?”

Nesta snorted. “He’d like to be. But no. He’s the High Lord of the Night Court.”

Bryce arched a brow. “So he serves a king?”

“We have no kings in these lands. Only seven courts, each ruled by a High Lord. Sometimes a High Lady beside them.”

A rock skittered in the distance. Bryce twisted toward it, but—nothing. Only darkness.

She found Nesta watching her carefully. Nesta asked, “Why not let me get impaled earlier? You could have let me walk right into a trap and run.”

“I have no reason to want you dead.”

“Yet you ran from the cell.”

“I know how interrogations tend to end.”

“No one was going to torture you.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

Nesta didn’t reply. At the sound of another scuff in the darkness, Bryce whipped her head to it and found Nesta watching her once more.

“What is that?” Bryce asked quietly.

Nesta’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s in the dimness. “Just the shadows.”





10


Tharion knew this wouldn’t end well. Not with Flynn and Dec pointing guns at the Hind, Marc’s claws gleaming and poised to shred flesh. Not with Holstrom crouched, teeth bared, angled in front of Sigrid. The Fendyr heir glanced between them all with predatory assessment, understanding a threat at hand but not what it was.

Well, fuck. That left him as the voice of reason.

So Tharion did what he did best: dragged up the smile of the person he’d once been and sauntered over to Tristan Flynn.

He laid a claw-tipped finger on the barrel of the Fae lord’s gun, pushing it down. “Take a breath,” Tharion crooned. “We’re all on neutral territory. Even Lidia wouldn’t be so stupid as to harm you here.” He winked at the Hind, though his insides trembled. “Would you?”

The Hind’s face held no emotion, but her chin dipped.

Sigrid stepped forward. “Who are you?”

The Hind’s golden eyes swept over the female wolf. Her nostrils flared delicately. “I think,” she murmured quietly, “the better question is who are you?”

“None of your business,” Ithan cut in.

The Hind gave him a look that said she had her suspicions but it wasn’t her priority—yet. She said to the Fendyr heir, “A moment of privacy, if you will.”

Holstrom growled. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her.”

Declan said quietly, “Holstrom, maybe she can … go join the dragon for a minute.”

Ithan turned outraged eyes on Declan but then seemed to relent. If this was about Ruhn, if the only way for the Hind to talk was to get Sigrid out of earshot …

Tharion chimed in, “Ari locked her door, so I’m pretty sure that means alone time.” He nodded to the door beside Ari’s. “But go ahead and take my room.”

Sigrid scoffed. “I’m not some pup to be ordered about—”

“Please,” Declan said with a helpless gesture. Marc again laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

There was a moment, then, when Ithan and Sigrid looked at each other—when Tharion could have sworn some sort of battle of wills passed between them.

Sigrid bristled, then spat, “Fine,” and stalked off toward Tharion’s bedroom.

The sprites zoomed after her, but the Hind halted them. “You three—wait.”

Sasa, Malana, and Rithi turned, wide eyes on the Hind. But she didn’t speak again until Sigrid had slammed the door to Tharion’s room. Perhaps a bit petulantly.

Tharion didn’t miss Ithan’s sigh.

The Hind glanced at her watch, likely calculating how much time remained until the Viper Queen returned, then said to Flynn and Dec, “I went looking for you two, but no one was at your … house.” Her tone dripped with enough disdain that it was clear what she thought of their house off Archer Street. “But I knew that Ketos had defected and come to the Meat Market for refuge—so I guessed you might be hiding here as well.”