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

“Does anything I’ve ever done indicate I’d feel that way?”

“You’re protective of your sister to a fault.” Cormac frowned. “Did you see Daybright?”

“She appeared humanoid, cloaked in flame. I couldn’t see anything, really.”

“Good. I’m assuming you veiled yourself, too.”

Only by pure dumb luck. “Yeah.”

Cormac paced in front of the TV. “But she said nothing of Sofie?”

Ruhn hadn’t even thought to ask. Guilt twisted in his gut. “No.”

Cormac dragged his hands through his short blond hair. “And no updates on the Asteri’s mech-suit prototype being sent along the Spine?”

“No. She only told me to tell you that safe passage is granted under the light of the waning moon.”

Cormac sighed. Whatever that meant. But Declan asked as he emerged from the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand, “So what now? Ruhn waits for her to call with intel about this raid on the Spine?”

Cormac sneered at Declan. Avallen snob to the core. He said to Ruhn, “Remind me, cousin, why you felt the need to involve these two fools in our business?”

“Remind me,” Ruhn countered, “why I’m working with someone who insults my brothers?”

Dec and Flynn smirked at Cormac, who seethed, but finally sighed. The Avallen Prince said, “To answer your question, Declan Emmett, yes: Ruhn will wait until Daybright contacts him with details on the Spine raid. Or until I have something for him to pass along, in which case he’ll contact her again.”

Flynn leaned back on the couch, propping his arms behind his head. “Sounds boring.”

“Lives are at stake,” Cormac gritted out. “This hit on the Spine, attaining that new mech-suit prototype before the Asteri can use it against us on the battlefields, will give us a fighting chance.”

“Not to mention all the weapons you’ll loot from the supply trains,” Declan said darkly.

Cormac ignored his tone. “We don’t do anything unless it’s been approved by Command. So wait until you hear from me before you contact her again.”

Fine. He could do that. Go about his life, pretending he wasn’t a sort-of rebel. Only until he wanted out, Cormac had promised. And after that … he’d go back to what he’d been doing. To leading the Aux and hating his father yet dreading the day the male died. Until the next person who needed him for something came along.

Flynn grinned. “Bureaucracy at its finest.”

Cormac scowled at the Fae lord, but stalked for the front door. “I need to head out.”

“Hunting for Emile?” Ruhn asked. It was the middle of the morning—the kid would likely be lying low.

Cormac nodded. “Being a visiting prince allows me the cover of … sightseeing, as you call it here. And as a tourist, I’ve taken a keen interest in your Black Dock and its customs.”

“Morbid,” Declan said.

Ruhn blurted, “You can’t think Emile’s going to jump into one of the black boats in broad daylight.”

“I’ll look for him both by the light of the sun and the moon, until I find him. But I’d rather ask casual questions of the Reapers during the day.”

“Are you insane?” Flynn said, laughing in disbelief.

Ruhn was inclined to agree. “Don’t fuck with the Reapers, Cormac,” he warned. “Even for Emile’s sake.”

Cormac patted a knife at his side. As if that would do anything to kill a creature that was already dead. “I know how to handle myself.”

“I told you this would happen,” Hunt snarled to Isaiah as their steps thundered along the hallway of Celestina’s private residence atop the third tower of the Comitium. Celestina had called this meeting in her own home, rather than in the public office Micah had always used.

“We don’t have the full scope yet,” Isaiah shot back, adjusting his tie and the lapels of his gray suit.

Celestina had tried to ease the harsh modernism that Micah had favored: plush rugs now softened the white marble floors, angular statues had been replaced by lush-bodied effigies of Cthona, and vases of fluffy, vibrant flowers graced nearly every table and console they passed.

It was a nice contrast, Hunt might have thought. Had they not been called here for a reason.

He kept reminding himself of that reason, that this was a triarii meeting and not some one-on-one session. That he wasn’t in Sandriel’s castle of horrors, where a trip to her private chambers ended in blood and screaming.

He inhaled once, thinking of Bryce, of her scent, the warmth of her body against his. It settled the edge in him, even as something far more lethal opened an eye. What they were doing with Cormac, all this rebel shit they’d agreed to go through with last night …

Hunt glanced sidelong at Isaiah as the male knocked on the open double doors of Celestina’s study. He could tell him. He needed someone like Isaiah, even-keeled and unflappable. Especially if Hel had a vested interest in the conflict. And Hunt himself.

He’d decided to ignore Apollion’s commands. He had no interest in playing right into Hel’s hands.

Celestina murmured her welcome, and Hunt braced himself as he followed Isaiah in.

Sunlight filled the glass-and-marble space, and all the hard-edged furniture had been replaced by lovely artisanal wood pieces, but Hunt only noted the two males sitting before the desk. Naomi leaned against the wall by the built-in bookcase to the right, face dark and lethal focus fixed upon the males.

Well, the one male. The reason they were here.

Pollux didn’t turn as they entered, and Hunt aimed for the chair beside Baxian. Isaiah could sit next to Pollux. Isaiah threw him a Thanks, asshole look, but Hunt scanned Celestina’s expression for clues.

Displeasure tightened the corners of her mouth, but her eyes were calm. Face full of contemplation. She wore pale purple robes, her curls spilling down her bare arms like a waterfall of night. She might have been a goddess, so still and lovely was she—might have been Cthona herself, voluptuous and full-bodied, were it not for the radiant wings that filled with the light of the sun shining through the windows behind her.

“I apologize for keeping my message brief,” Celestina said to Hunt, Isaiah, and Naomi. “But I did not want the full account on the record.”

Pollux and Baxian stared ahead at nothing. Or Hunt assumed that was the case, given that one of Baxian’s eyes was swollen shut, and Pollux’s face was one big magnificent bruise. That it remained this way after twelve hours suggested the initial damage had been impressive. He wished he could have seen it.

“We understand,” Isaiah said in that take-no-shit commander’s tone. “We share your disappointment.”

Celestina sighed. “Perhaps I was na?ve in believing that I could introduce two Pangerans to this city without a more thorough education in its ways. To hand over the responsibility”—she glanced at Naomi, then at Hunt—“was my mistake.”

Hunt could have warned her about that. He kept his mouth shut.