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

Ithan shook his head, but it was Hunt who said, “This is a lethal game, Tharion. One I’d rather not play again.” Bryce could have sworn his hands shook slightly. This had to be dragging up the worst of his memories and fears—he’d been a rebel, once. It had won him two hundred years of servitude.

And today had been long and weird and she hadn’t even told Hunt about Cormac’s visit at lunch.

But to let this boy be hunted by so many people … She couldn’t sit by. Not for an instant. So Bryce said, “I can ask Fury tomorrow if she knows anything about Danika and Sofie. Maybe she can give some insight into where Danika might have suggested hiding.”

“Ask her right now,” Tharion said with unusual seriousness.

“It’s Wednesday night. She and Juniper always have date night.”

It was half a lie, and Hunt must have known it was for his sake, because his wing gently brushed over her shoulder.

But Tharion ordered, “Then interrupt it.”

“Don’t you know anything about Fury Axtar?” Bryce waved a hand. “I’ll call her tomorrow morning. She’s always in a better mood after she and June get it on.”

Tharion glanced between her and Hunt, then to Ruhn and Ithan, both silently watching. The mer reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded stack of papers with a resigned sigh. “Here’s a sampling of the emails,” he said, handing them to Bryce, and aimed for the door again. He paused near Syrinx, then knelt down and petted his head, his thick neck. He straightened Syrinx’s collar and earned a lick of thanks. Tharion’s mouth curled up at the corners as he stood. “Cool pet.” He opened the front door. “Don’t put anything in writing. I’ll be back around lunch tomorrow.”

As soon as the mer shut the door, Hunt said to Bryce, “Getting involved with this is a bad idea.”

Ruhn said, “I agree.”

Bryce only clutched the papers tighter and turned to Ithan. “This is the part where you say you agree, too.”

Ithan frowned deeply. “I can ignore the shit about Danika and Ophion, but there’s a kid out there on the run. Who probably has nothing to do with Ophion and needs help.”

“Thank you,” Bryce said, whirling on Hunt. “See?”

“It’s Tharion’s business. Leave it alone, Bryce,” Hunt warned. “I don’t even know why you had to ask about any of this.”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t ask,” Bryce challenged.

Hunt pushed, “Is this really about finding the kid, or is it about learning something new about Danika?”

“Can’t it be both?”

Hunt slowly shook his head.

Ruhn said, “Let’s think this through, Bryce, before deciding to act. And maybe burn those emails.”

“I’ve already decided,” she announced. “I’m going to find Emile.”

“And do what with him?” Hunt asked. “If the Asteri want him, you’d be harboring a rebel.”

Bryce couldn’t stop the light from shimmering around her. “He’s thirteen years old. He’s not a rebel. The rebels just want him to be.”

Hunt said quietly, “I saw kids his age walk onto battlefields, Bryce.”

Ruhn nodded solemnly. “Ophion doesn’t turn away fighters based on their age.”

Ithan said, “That’s despicable.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” Hunt countered. “But the Asteri won’t care if he’s thirteen or thirty, if he’s a true rebel or not. You stand in their way, and they’ll punish you.”

Bryce opened her mouth, but—a muscle flickered in his cheek, making the bruise there all the more noticeable. Guilt punched through her, warring with her ire. “I’ll think about it,” she conceded, and stalked for her bedroom.

She needed a breather before she said or did more than she meant to. A moment to process the information she’d gotten out of Tharion. She hadn’t put any stock in Briggs’s claim about Danika and the rebels when he’d taunted her with it—he’d been trying to get at her in any way possible. But it seemed she’d been wrong.

She scoured her memory for any detail as she washed away her makeup, then brushed her hair. Male voices rumbled from the other side of the door, but Bryce ignored them, changing into her pajamas. Her stomach gurgled.

Was Emile hungry? He was a kid—alone in the world, having suffered in one of those gods-forsaken camps, no family left. He had to be terrified. Traumatized.

She hoped Sofie was alive. Not for any intel or amazing powers, but so Emile had someone left. Family who loved him for him and not for being some all-powerful chosen one whose people had long ago been hunted to extinction.

Bryce frowned in the mirror. Then at the stack of papers Tharion had handed her. The emails between Sofie and Danika—and a few between Sofie and Emile.

The former were exactly as Tharion had claimed. Vague mentions of things.

But Sofie and Emile’s emails …

I had to leave your sunball game before the end, Sofie had written in one exchange more than three years ago, but Mom told me you guys won! Congrats—you were amazing out there!

Emile had replied, I was ok. Missed 2 shots.

Sofie had written back, at three in the morning—as if she’d been up late studying or partying—I once had a game when I missed ten shots! So you’re doing way better than me. :)

The next morning, Emile had said, Thanks, sis. Miss u.

Bryce swallowed hard. Such an ordinary exchange—proof of a normal, decent life.

What had happened to them? How had he wound up in Kavalla? Part of her didn’t want to know, and yet … She read the emails again. The loving, casual exchange between siblings.

Did any of the many people searching for Emile want to actually help him? Not use him, but just … protect him? Maybe he and Sofie would find each other at that rendezvous spot Danika had mentioned. Maybe they’d get lucky, and no one would ever find them.

Danika had always helped those who needed it. Bryce included.

And during the spring attack, when Bryce had run to Asphodel Meadows … it was the same feeling creeping over her now. The boy needed help. She wouldn’t walk away from it. Couldn’t walk away from it.

But how did Danika factor in to all of this? She needed to know.

Her stomach protested again. Right—dinner. With a silent prayer to Cthona to keep Emile safe, Bryce emerged from the bedroom and said, “I’m ordering pizza.”

Ruhn said, “I’m in,” as if he’d been invited, but Bryce glanced at the shut door to Hunt’s bedroom.

If she needed a moment, he’d sure as Hel need a lot longer.

Hunt turned on the shower with a shaking hand. The blast and splatter of the water provided much-needed white noise, a quieting barrier against the world beyond his bathroom. He’d muttered something about needing a shower and walked in here, not caring what Danaan and Holstrom thought.

Hunt peeled out of his battle-suit, dimly aware of the bruises along his ribs and his face, the brawl with Pollux almost forgotten.

He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the surge of acid through his veins that made every breath torturous.