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

“Listening to you squeal while I carve him will be a delight,” the Harpy said, and slid the knife to the base of Ruhn’s throat.

It was going to hurt. It would hurt, but because of his Vanir blood, he wouldn’t die—not yet. He’d keep healing while she sliced him apart.

“GET OFF HIM!” Bryce bellowed. A guttural roar thundered in the words. As Fae as he’d ever heard his sister.

The tip of the knife pierced Ruhn’s throat, its sting blooming. He dove deep, into the place where he’d always run to avoid his father’s ministrations.

They’d walked in here so foolishly, had been so blind—

The Harpy sucked in a breath, muscles tensing to shove in the knife.

Something golden and swift as the wind barreled into her side and sent the Harpy sprawling.

Bryce shouted, but all the noise, all the thoughts in Ruhn’s head eddied away as a familiar, lovely scent hit him. As he beheld the female who leapt to her feet, now a wall between him and the Harpy.

The Hind.





75

“You fucking cunt,” the Harpy cursed, rising to draw a long, wicked sword.

Ruhn couldn’t move from the floor as the Hind unsheathed her own slim blade. As her beckoning scent floated to him. A scent that was somehow entwined with his own. It was very faint, like a shadow, so vague that he doubted anyone else would realize the underlying scent belonged to him.

And her scent had been familiar from the start because Hypaxia was her half-sister, he realized. Family ties didn’t lie. He’d been wrong about her being in House of Sky and Breath—the Hind could claim total allegiance to Earth and Blood.

“I knew it. I always knew it,” the Harpy seethed, wings rustling. “Traitorous bitch.”

It couldn’t be.

It … it couldn’t be.

Bryce and Hunt were frozen with shock.

Ruhn whispered, “Day?”

Lidia Cervos looked over a shoulder. And she said with quiet calm in a voice he knew like his own heartbeat, a voice he had never once heard her use as the Hind, “Night.”

“The Asteri will carve you up and feed you to your dreadwolves,” the Harpy crooned, sword angling. “And I’m going to help them do it.”

The golden-haired female—Lidia, Day—only said to the Harpy, “Not if I kill you first.”

The Harpy lunged. The Hind was waiting.

Sword met sword, and Ruhn could only watch as the shifter deflected and parried the angel’s strike. Her blade shone like quicksilver, and as the Harpy brought down another arm-breaking blow, a dagger appeared in Lidia’s other hand.

The Hind crossed dagger and sword and met the blow, using the Harpy’s movement to kick at her exposed stomach. The angel went down in a pile of wings and black hair, but she was instantly up, circling. “The Asteri will let Pollux have at you, I think.” A bitter, cruel laugh.

Pollux—the male who’d … A blaring white noise blasted through Ruhn’s head.

“Pollux will get what’s coming to him, too,” the Hind said, blocking the attack and spinning on her knees so that she was behind the Harpy. The Harpy twirled, meeting the blow, but backed a step closer to Ruhn.

Their blades again met, the Harpy pressing. The Hind’s arms strained, the sleek muscles in her thighs visible through her skintight white pants as she pushed up, up, to her feet. She kept her black boots planted—the Harpy’s stance was nowhere near as solid.

Lidia’s golden eyes slid to Ruhn’s. She nodded shallowly. A command.

Ruhn crouched, readying.

“Lying filth,” the Harpy raged, losing another inch. Just a little further … “When did they turn you?”

Ruhn’s heart raced.

The two females clashed and withdrew with horrifying skill, then clashed again. “Liar I might be,” Lidia growled, smiling savagely, “but at least I’m no fool.”

The Harpy blinked as the Hind shoved her another inch.

Right to the edge of Ruhn’s reach.

Ruhn grabbed the Harpy’s ankle and yanked. The angel shouted, tumbling down again, wings splaying.

The Hind struck.

Swift as a cobra, Lidia plunged her sword into the top of the Harpy’s spine, right through her neck. The tip of her blade hit the floor before the Harpy’s body collided with it.

The Harpy tried to scream, but the Hind had angled the blow to pierce her vocal cords. The next blow, with her parrying dagger, plunged through the Harpy’s ear and into the skull beneath. Another move, and her head rolled away.

And then silence. The Harpy’s wings twitched.

Ruhn slowly lifted his gaze to the Hind.

Lidia stood over him, splattered with blood. Every line of the body he’d seen and felt was taut. On alert.

Hunt breathed, “You’re a double agent?”

But Lidia launched into motion, grabbing Ruhn’s chains, unlocking them with a key from her imperial uniform. “We don’t have much time. You have to get out of here.”

She’d sworn she wouldn’t come for him if he got into trouble. But here she was.

“Was this a trap?” Bryce demanded.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Lidia said. As the Hind, she’d kept her voice low and soft. Day’s voice—this person’s voice—sounded higher. She came close enough while she freed Ruhn’s feet that he could scent her again. “I tried to warn you that I believed Rigelus wanted you to come here, that he knew you would, but … I was interrupted.” By Pollux. “When I was finally able to reach out to you again, it was clear that only those of us in Sandriel’s triarii knew about Rigelus’s plan, and that Mordoc had been feeding him information regarding your whereabouts. To warn you off would have been to give myself away.”

Hunt glowered as Ruhn stared at the Hind. “And we couldn’t have that,” the angel said.

Mordoc—how had the bloodhound not noticed the subtle shift in Lidia’s scent? In Ruhn’s? Or had he, and been biding his time to spring the trap shut?

Lidia shot Hunt a glare, not backing down as she started on Bryce’s chains. “There is a great deal that you do not understand.”

She was so beautiful. And utterly soulless.

You remind me that I’m alive, she’d told him.

“You killed Sofie,” Bryce hissed.

“No.” Lidia shook her head. “I called for the city-ship to save her. They arrived too late.”

“What?” Athalar blurted.

Ruhn blinked as the Hind pulled a white stone from her pocket. “These are calling stones—beacons. The Ocean Queen enchanted them. They’ll summon whatever city-ship is closest when dropped into the water. Her mystics sense when the ships might be needed in a certain area, and the stones are used as a precise method of location.”

She’d done it that day in Ydra, too. She’d summoned the ship that saved them.

“Sofie drowned because of you,” Ruhn growled, his voice like gravel. “People died at your hands—”

“There is so much to tell you, Ruhn,” she said softly, and his name on her tongue …

But Ruhn looked away from her. He could have sworn the Hind flinched.

He didn’t care. Not as Hunt asked Bryce, “Did you find out the truth?”

Bryce paled. “I did. I—”

Steps sounded down the hall. Far away, but approaching. The Hind went still. “Pollux.”