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

Great. Just … great.

She frowned at the dark, rushing water, illuminated by the light from her star. Smooth white pebbles glimmered brightly far beneath the surface. Really brightly.

Bryce glanced at her star. It was glowing more strongly now. She stood, wiping her wet, chilled hand on the thigh of her leggings. The star dimmed.

“What is it?” Nesta took a step closer, a hand rising toward the sword at her back.

Bryce knelt again, plunging her hand back into the frigid river. Her star glowed brighter as she angled its light over the water. She twisted on her knees, toward the gloom downriver. The starlight flared in answer. It faded to a dull light when she pivoted back toward the tunnel ahead.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bryce muttered, rising to her feet again.

“What?” Nesta asked, scanning the river, the darkness around them.

Bryce didn’t reply. The star had led her this far. If it wanted her in the river …

Bryce glanced over a shoulder to Nesta. “See you at the bottom.” And with a wink, Bryce jumped into the roaring water.



* * *



The cold knocked the breath from Bryce.

The thrashing river was illuminated by her star, the water a clear, striking blue in the small bubble of her light. It glazed the high cavern ceiling, and it was all Bryce could do to keep her head above the rapids, from being smashed against the boulders spiking up throughout the twisting length of the river.

Behind her, Nesta had jumped in—as Bryce had rounded a bend a moment ago, she’d heard Nesta’s snapped “Reckless idiot!” before the roar of the river swallowed all sounds once more.

The star had to be leading her somewhere. To something.

Bryce was hurled around another bend in the caverns, and as she struggled to keep her head clear of the water, her star seemed to extend a beam into the darkness.

The ray of silvery light landed upon a small pool bulging out of the opposite side of the river. A break in the rapids. Right in front of a small bank … and another looming tunnel entrance beyond.

Bryce began swimming for the pool, her body screaming with the effort of pushing perpendicular to the current, racing to reach that sliver of calm water before she was swept past. Stroke after stroke, kick after kick, she aimed for that narrow shore.

She turned to warn Nesta to make for the shore, too, but found that the female was a few feet behind her, swimming like mad for the bank. So Bryce continued swimming, arms straining as the river pulled her forward mercilessly. If she and Nesta didn’t reach the little pool soon, they’d miss it entirely—

The tug of the water relented. Bryce’s strokes became easier, her pace faster.

And then she was in the pool, the water still and light compared to the raging beast behind her. She clawed at the rocky shore, hauling herself onto it.

Rocks scraped against each other beside her, and then Nesta’s heavy, wet breathing sounded. “What …” Nesta panted. “The …” Another breath. “Fuck.”

Bryce inhaled all that beautiful, wonderful air, even as intense cold began to shake through her very bones. “The star said to go this way,” she managed to say.

“Some warning would have been good,” Nesta growled.

Bryce rose onto her elbows, gasping down breath after breath. “Why? You would have tried to talk me out of it.”

“Because,” Nesta bit out, wiping the water from her eyes as she got to her knees, “we could have come down here without having to get wet. I’m not to let you out of my sight—not even for a moment, so I had no choice but to go after you. But since you jumped in so damned fast … Now we’re freezing.”

“How could we have reached here without getting wet?” Bryce asked, shuddering with cold, teeth already clacking against each other.

Nesta rolled her eyes and said to the shadows, “You might as well come out now.”

Bryce whirled on her knees, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there as Azriel landed from above them.

His wings were spread so wide they nearly touched either side of the cavern, and the black dagger hung at his hip, its dark hilt gleaming faintly in the light of her star. And peeking above a broad shoulder, its matching dark hilt like shadow given form, was the Starsword.



* * *



“What the fuck do you mean Bryce isn’t in Hel?” Ruhn managed to say around what was left of his tongue, every breath like shards of glass slicing down his throat.

Hunt gave no answer, and Ruhn supposed he hadn’t really expected one, anyway.

Baxian grunted, “Where?” It was about all the angel could get out, Ruhn realized.

“Dunno,” Hunt said, voice gravelly from screaming.

The Hawk had yanked the lever that sent them all plunging, laughing when they’d yelped as their injuries collided with cold stone. As reeking puddles of their own blood and waste splashed onto them. But at least they were on the floor.

Still chained at the wrists and ankles, Ruhn had only been able to lie there, shuddering, tears leaking from his eyes at the relief in his shoulders, his arms, his lungs.

The Hawk had slid a tray of food toward them before he left—but kept it far enough away that they’d have to crawl through their piss and shit to get to it before the rats converged.

Baxian was currently trying to reach the tray, legs pushing against the stones, the half-grown stumps of his wings stained red. He stretched a filthy hand toward the broth and water, and groaned deeply. Blood leaked from a wound in his ribs.