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

Ithan knocked on its hateful face once. Twice. The metal thudded dully.

The door yawned open, silent as a grave. Only darkness waited beyond, and a long, straight staircase into the gloom.

It might as well have been Hel on Midgard.

Ithan felt nothing, was nothing, as he strode in. As the door shut behind him, sealing him in solid, unending night.

Locking him inside the House of Flame and Shadow.





30


If the Autumn King was indeed cooking their meals, then Bryce had to admit that he wasn’t a bad chef. Roast chicken, green beans, and some thickly sliced bread waited on the marble table in the vast dining room.

Apparently, she’d arrived around three in the afternoon on a Friday. That was all she’d been able to get out of him while he’d led her from his office to a bedroom on the second floor. Not what the date was, or even the month. Or year.

Nausea coursed through her. Hunt had been kept in the Asteri dungeons for years the last time … Was he still there? Was he even alive? Was Ruhn? Her family?

There was nothing in her bedroom, an elegant—if bland—blend of marble and overstuffed furniture in varying shades of gray and white, to aid in answering these questions. Her father wanted her cut off from the world, and so it was: No TV. No phone—not even a landline. A glamour shimmered on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an interior lavender garden, blocking prying eyes from seeing in. A peek toward the sky showed an iridescent bubble over the whole place—wards. Like the ones the Fae had established to lock down their territory during the attack this spring.

But it was the screams of pleading Fae parents as Silene locked them out of their home world, leaving their children to the Asteri’s cruelty, that echoed through Bryce’s head.

And now, sitting across the massive dining table from her father hours later, having showered and changed into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a skintight navy blue athletic jacket that he’d given her—she really fucking hoped they weren’t left over from a booty call—Bryce asked, “So is this the plan? Lock me up here until I get so bored that I tell you everything? Or is it to deprive me of information so that I’ll tell you anything in exchange for a snippet of news about Hunt?”

Her father sliced into his chicken with a precision that told her exactly how he dealt with his enemies. But he sighed through his nose. “Your hosts in the other world must have had a high tolerance for irreverent nonsense, if you’re still alive.”

“Most people call it charm.”

He sipped from his wine. “How long were you there?”

“Tell me about Ruhn and Hunt.”

He sipped again. “That wasn’t even a good attempt to surprise me into answering.”

“You know, only a real piece of shit would withhold that information.”

He set down his wine. “Here is how this shall work. For every question of mine that you answer, you shall receive an answer to one of your questions. If I sense that you are lying, you shall not get a reply from me.”

“You know, I just played this game with someone even more horrible than you—shocking, I know—and it didn’t end well for her. So I suggest we skip the Q and A and you tell me what I want to know.”

He only stared. He’d sit here all fucking night.

Bryce tapped her foot on the marble floor, weighing it out. “Fine.”

“Did you truly go to the home world of the Fae?”

“Yes.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Athalar and Ruhn are still alive.”

Bryce tried not to sag with relief. “How long—”

He held up a finger. “My turn.”

Fucker.

“What was their world like?”

“I don’t know—I only saw a holding cell and some tunnels and caverns. But … it seemed free. Of the Asteri, at least.” And then, because she knew it would upset him, she said, “The Fae there are stronger than we are. The Asteri take a chunk of our power through the Drop—it feeds them, sustains them. In that other world, the Fae retain their full, pure power.”

She could have sworn his face had paled, even under the flattering golden glow of the twin iron chandeliers dangling above. It made her more smug than she’d expected.

“How long was I gone?” she asked.

“Five days.”

The timelines between their worlds were similar, then. “And—”

“What did you learn while you were there?”

How to reply? To give him the truth … “I’m still processing.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“I learned,” she snapped, “that most of the Fae, no matter what world they’re on, are a bunch of selfish assholes.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

She crossed her arms. “Let’s just say that I know a female who could wipe your sorry ass from existence and not break a sweat.”

And yet Nesta hadn’t done that to Bryce. She’d thought it luck, but was it possible the female had pulled her punches? Nesta hadn’t been anything like Silene or Theia.

It didn’t matter now, but the thought lingered.

“That still doesn’t answer my question. You must have gone to that world for a reason—what did you learn?”

“One, I wound up there by accident. Two, technically, I did answer your question, so be more specific next time.”