House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

Tharion swore, and Bryce patted his knee in what Hunt could only guess was an attempt at consolation.

Cormac faced Hunt. “Athalar, you’re up.” He jerked his head to the massive ship. “They’re unloading the new prototype right now.”

In silence, they followed the prince, Hunt keeping close to Bryce. The rebels—all in black, many with hats or masks on—stared at them as they passed. None of them smiled. One man grumbled, “Vanir pricks.”

Tharion blew him a kiss.

Ruhn growled.

“Play nice,” Bryce hissed at her brother, pinching his side through his black T-shirt. Ruhn batted her away with a tattooed hand.

“Real mature,” Hunt muttered as they halted at the foot of the loading platform. Ruhn subtly flipped him off. Bryce pinched Hunt’s side, too.

But Tharion let out a low whistle as four rusty mech-suits emerged from the ship’s hold, each carrying the corner of a massive box.

It looked like a metal sarcophagus, carved with the insignia of the Asteri: seven stars around SPQM. The humans piloting the old-model mech-suits didn’t so much as glance to the side as they carried the box down the ramp, the ground thudding beneath the machines’ massive feet.

“Those suits are for battle, not manual labor,” Tharion murmured.

“Twelve-gunners. They’re the strongest of the human models.” Hunt inclined his head to the twin double guns at the shoulder, the guns on each of the forearms. “Six visible guns, six hidden ones—and one of those is a cannon.”

Bryce grimaced. “How many of these suits do the humans have?”

“A few hundred,” Cormac answered. “The Asteri have bombed enough of our factories that these suits are all old, though. The imperial prototype that they’re carrying could give us new technology, if we can study it.”

Bryce murmured, “And no one is worried about giving this stuff over to trigger-happy Pippa?”

“No,” Cormac replied gravely. “Not one of them.”

“But they’re cool with us examining the suit?” Bryce asked.

“I told them Athalar would have some insight into how they’re constructed.”

Hunt clicked his tongue. “No pressure, huh?” He suppressed the memory of Sandriel’s face, her cruel amusement as she watched what he’d done to the suits on her orders.

The suits and their pilots reached the concrete quay, and someone barked an order that dispersed the various rebels working the docks until only a unit of twelve rebels—all humans—lingered behind Hunt and the others.

Hunt liked that about as much as the fact that they were here at all, on a fucking rebel base. Officially aiding Ophion. He kept his breathing slow and steady.

The unit of rebels marched past them, climbing into the vessel, and the mech-pilots stomped off, leaving the sarcophagus behind. A heartbeat later, a human female, brown-haired and freckled, emerged from the shadows beside the boat.

From the way Cormac tensed, Hunt knew who it was. He noted that she wore the uniform of the Lightfall squadron. All the rebels who’d gone by had borne armbands with the sinking sun emblem.

Hunt put his hand in easy reach of the gun at his thigh, lightning writhing in his veins. Bryce angled her body, already eyeing up the best shot. Tharion drifted a few feet to the left, positioning Pippa between himself and the water. As if he’d tackle her into it.

But Pippa moved casually to the other side of the sarcophagus as she said to Cormac, “The code to that box is seven-three-four-two-five.”

Her voice was smooth and fancy—like she was some rich Pangeran kid playing at being a rebel. She said to Hunt, “We’re waiting with bated breath for your analysis, Umbra Mortis.” It was practically an order.

Hunt stared at her from under lowered brows. He knew he was recognizable. But the way she said his name definitely carried a threat. Pippa shifted her attention to Cormac. “I wondered when you’d try to turn them against me.”

Hunt and Bryce drew close, guns at their fingertips now. Ruhn kept a step back, guarding their rear. And Tharion …

The mer had silently shifted positions again, putting himself within a few easy bounds of tackling Pippa.

“I haven’t said anything to them about you yet,” Cormac said with impressive iciness.

“Oh? Then why were you in such a rush to get here? I can only assume it was for one of two reasons: to convince them to put you in charge of the Valbaran front, presumably by slandering me, or to try to capture me so I can tell you everything I know about Emile Renast.”

“Who says both can’t be true?” Cormac countered.

Pippa grunted. “You needn’t have bothered with capturing me. I would have worked with you to find him. But you wanted the glory for yourself.”

“We’re talking about a child’s life,” Cormac snarled. “You only want him as a weapon.”

“And you don’t?” Pippa sneered at them all. “It must make it easier for you if you pretend you’re better than I am.”

Tharion said, deadly soft, “We’re not the ones torturing people to death for intel on the kid.”

She frowned. “Is that what you think I’ve been up to? Those gruesome murders?”

“We found human scents and a piece of one of your soldiers on the kid’s trail,” Tharion growled, a hand drifting to his knives.

Her lips curved into a cold smile. “You arrogant, narrow-minded Vanir. Always thinking the worst of us humans.” She shook her head in mock sympathy. “You’re too coiled up in your own snake’s nest to see the truth. Or to see who among you has a forked tongue.”

True to form, Bryce stuck out her tongue at the soldier. Pippa only sneered.

“Enough, Pippa.” Cormac punched the code into the small box at the foot of the sarcophagus. Bryce’s eyes had narrowed, though. She held Pippa’s gaze—and a chill went down Hunt’s spine at the pure dominance in Bryce’s face.

Pippa drawled, “It is of no concern now. anyway. The boy has been deemed a waste of resources. Especially now that we have … better weapons to wield.”

As if in answer, the lid popped open with a hiss, and Hunt threw an arm in front of Bryce as it slid aside. Smoke from dry ice billowed out, and Cormac cleared it away with a brush of his hand.

Pippa said, “Well, Umbra Mortis? I await your insights.”

“I’d mind how you speak to him, Pippa,” Cormac warned her, voice sharp with authority.

Pippa faced Bryce, though. “And you’re Cormac’s bride, yes?” No kindness, no warmth filled her tone.

Bryce flashed the female a smile. “You can have the job if you want it so badly.”

Pippa bristled, but Cormac gestured Hunt forward as the last of the smoke cleared.

Hunt surveyed the suit in the box and swore. “The Asteri designed this?” he asked. Pippa nodded, lips pursed tight. “For Vanir to pilot?” he pushed.

Another nod. Pippa said, “I don’t see how it can possess more power than ours, though. It’s smaller than our models.” The quicksilver-bright suit would stand about seven feet high.

“You know what you’re looking at?” Ruhn asked Hunt, scratching his head.