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

But he did as Baxian said. One foot at a time.

And then the Hawk was in front of them, still sneering. Mordoc and the dreadwolves kept their guns trained as the motherfucker bowed mockingly. “This way, friends.”

Mordoc snickered, the fucker.

Hunt staggered into the hall, head spinning. The cup of thin broth and dry bread had been a pathetic excuse for a meal. Quinlan would have had some smart remark about it. He could almost hear her saying to the Hawk, Where’s my pizza, bird-boy?

Hunt laughed to himself, earning a quizzical look over the shoulder from the Hawk.

Ruhn stumbled, nearly eating stone. The dreadwolves swept in, hauling him up before he could collapse. The prince’s feet scraped and pushed feebly at the floor, trying to stand, but his body failed him.

Hunt could do nothing but watch as two dreadwolves dragged Ruhn along like a fucking duffel bag.

Maybe it would be a mercy for Ruhn to die. The thought was abhorrent, but—

“Please let us take the elevator,” Baxian muttered from behind him, and Hunt chuckled again. He might have been on the verge of hysteria.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mordoc snarled, and Baxian grunted, no doubt from a blow the dreadwolf had landed on his battered body.

Thank the gods, they were indeed herded down the hall toward the elevator bay. As if on cue, the gold-plated doors parted to reveal the Hind in her pristine uniform.

“Good morning, boys,” she purred, face cold as death as she held the door open with a slender hand. Her other arm was in a sling, heavily bandaged.

“Lidia,” the Hawk drawled, and nodded to her injured arm. “How are the burns healing up?”

Limping into the elevator beside Lidia, Hunt eyed the Hind’s sling. Had she finished playing rebel and gone back to her true self? Maybe she’d been using fire to persuade a prisoner to talk and gotten a little too enthusiastic. Ruhn’s face remained wholly blank. He was back on his feet again, slowly approaching the elevator.

“Fine.” Lidia leaned against the button panel, fire in her golden eyes. She sniffed at Baxian, then said to the Hawk, “You couldn’t wash them first?”

“Rigelus said immediately,” the Hawk said, shoving Ruhn in.

The prince hit the glass wall at the rear of the elevator and slumped to the floor with a groan. The Hawk reached to push in Baxian, but the Helhound bared his teeth, and even the Hawk didn’t try anything as the Helhound took up a place beside Hunt, limping only slightly.

How much had changed since those years with Sandriel. And how little.

“Room for two,” Lidia snapped at her dreadwolves, and a pair of stone-faced soldiers slipped in. Each had at least a dozen silver darts along the collars of their gray uniforms. Lidia ordered Mordoc, “Be waiting outside the bay upstairs.”

Mordoc nodded, golden eyes bright with anticipated bloodshed, and snarled something to the dreadwolf unit that had them marching swiftly for the stairs. With feral delight dancing over his face, Mordoc trailed them out.

Lidia waited until the dreadwolves and their captain had left the landing before removing her hand from the door. The elevator sealed shut, and the car began to slide upward.

They emerged from the underground levels, rising into the crystal palace above.

Blinding light pierced Hunt’s eyes—daylight. His eyes, accustomed to the dark, couldn’t focus—he couldn’t make out anything of the world around him. He lifted a wing to block out the light, body barking in pain with the movement. Ruhn and Baxian hissed, recoiling from the light as well.

The Hawk snickered. “Just a taste of what Rigelus will do to you.” The two dreadwolves chuckled with him.

Hunt squinted as he lowered his wing and met the shithead’s eyes. “Fuck you.” Like Hel would these assholes make him beg and grovel—either for his own life or Ruhn’s.

Lidia said mildly, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Athalar.” Hunt looked, but not fast enough.

The Hawk certainly didn’t look fast enough.

And Hunt knew he’d treasure this moment forever: the moment when Lidia Cervos pulled out her gun and fired it right between the Hawk’s eyes.





33


All Ruhn knew was blinding light, and the blast of gunshots.

Three bodies hit the floor. The Hawk, followed by two dreadwolves. And before them, lowering her gun to her side … Lidia.

“What the fuck!” Baxian shouted.

He didn’t know—Ruhn had never told him. Even in his rage and loathing, he’d never dared risk sharing the knowledge of Daybright’s identity with another person who could betray her.

Using her good hand, Lidia hit a button on the elevator. “We have one minute and thirty-five seconds to get to the car.” She yanked a ring of keys from her pocket and knelt in front of Athalar. Fumbling a bit with her bandaged hand, she freed first his ankles, then his wrists from the gorsian shackles. Then Baxian’s.

Ruhn blinked and she was in front of him, eyes bright and clear. “Hang on,” she whispered. Her slender fingers brushed his skin, and gorsian stone fell away. His magic swelled, a tide of starlight rising within him.

It stopped at the end of his arm. He was missing his fucking hand—

He swayed. Lidia caught him, hauling him upright with ease. But he didn’t miss the grunt of pain from whatever it did to her arm, now free of its sling.