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

But she’d gotten no farther than two steps into the dungeon when the breath whooshed from her body at the sight of the stump where Ruhn’s hand should have been.

The prince hung, unconscious, from his chains. Athalar and Baxian were out, too. All three were caked in blood.

Pollux and the Hawk were panting, smiling like fiends. “You missed the fun, Lidia,” the Hawk said, and held up—

Held up—

That broad, tattooed hand—Ruhn’s hand—had touched her. On that mental plane, soul to soul, those hands had caressed her, gentle and loving.

“Well done,” she managed, though she screamed inside. Clawed at the walls of her being and shrieked with fury. “Which one of you claimed the prize?”

“Baxian, actually,” the Hammer said, chuckling. “Chewed it off like the dog he is in an attempt to get free.”

Lidia made herself turn. Look at the Helhound like she was impressed. Some small part of her was. But the pain Ruhn had endured …

She put a hand to her stomach, and her wince wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Lidia?” the Hawk asked, white wings rustling.

“Her cycle,” Pollux answered for her, disdain coating his voice.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, to make the show complete. The Hawk and Pollux swapped looks, as if to say, Females. She pulled a velvet case from an interior pocket of her uniform jacket. When she flicked it open, firstlight glowed from the two syringes strapped within.

“What’s that?” The Hawk stalked a step closer, peering at the needles.

Lidia made herself smirk at him, then at Pollux. “It seems a shame to me that Athalar and the Helhound’s wings are no longer able to be … targeted. I thought we’d bring them back into play.”

A shot of a medwitch healing potion, laced with firstlight, would regrow their wings within a day or two, even under the repressive power of the gorsian shackles. If she’d known about Ruhn’s hand, she would have brought three, but now there would be no way to casually explain the need for it, not without drawing too much attention.

And she needed Athalar and Baxian able to fly.

Pollux smiled. “Clever, Lidia.” He jerked his chin toward the unconscious angels. “Do it.”

She didn’t need the Hammer’s permission, but she didn’t protest. “Wait until they’re fully regrown,” she warned Pollux and the Hawk. “Let them savor the hope of having their wings again before you find some interesting way to remove them anew.”

Athalar and Baxian were too deeply unconscious to even feel the prick of the needle at the center of their spines. Firstlight glowed along their backs, stretching like shining roots toward the stumps of their wings. The wounds in between healed over slowly, but she’d bade the medwitch who’d crafted the potion to weave a spell in it to target the wings specifically. If she’d healed them both completely, it would have been too suspicious.

Slowly, before her eyes, the stumps on their backs began to rebuild, flesh and sinew and bone creeping together, multiplying.

Lidia turned from the gruesome sight. She could only pray they’d be healed in time.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said to Pollux and the Hawk, striding to the rack.

“I thought you were here to heal them.” The Hawk glanced between her and the angels.

“Only the wings,” Lidia said. “Why not play with other parts while they mend?”

The Hammer smiled. “Can I watch?”

“No.”

Ruhn stirred, groaning softly, and it was all she could do to keep from pulling one of the long blades from the rack and plunging it through Pollux’s gut.

“You know how I like to watch,” Pollux purred, and the Hawk chuckled. What an utter waste of life. He’d stood by while the Hammer committed his bloody atrocities. Had delighted in watching during those years with Sandriel, too.

The Malleus’s eyes gleamed with naked lust. “Why don’t you put on a show for us?”

“Get out,” she said, unamused. Pollux might pretend he had control, but he knew who the Asteri favored. Her orders were not to be ignored. “I don’t need distractions.”

The Hawk snickered, but obeyed, stalking out. A true minion, through and through.

The Hammer, however, walked over to her. With a lover’s gentleness, he put a hand on the side of her neck. And then squeezed tight enough to bruise as he said against her mouth, “I’ll fuck that disrespect out of you, Lidia. Bloody cunt or not.”

Then he was striding up the steps, wings glowing with his wrath. He slammed the door behind him.

Lidia waited, listening. When she was convinced they were both gone, she pulled the lever that sent the prisoners crashing to the floor and rushed to where Ruhn lay sprawled.

“Get up.” She kept her voice hard, cold. But the prince opened his beautiful blue eyes.

She scanned his face. Ruhn. No one answered. As if pain had carved him up and hollowed him out. Ruhn, listen to me.

You’re dead to me, he’d said. It seemed he’d killed the connection between them, too. But Lidia still cast her thoughts toward his mind.

Ruhn, I don’t have much time. I managed to make contact with people who can help get you out of here, but the Harpy is somehow about to be resurrected, and once she is, the truth will come out. If my plan’s to go off without a hitch, if you are to survive, you need to listen—