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

Ephraim recovered from the awkward kiss and tucked his blindingly white wings close to his toned, powerful body. “I thank you for your welcome, Commander Tiberian. And hope that your triarii will welcome mine as you so warmly did.”

Hunt at last glanced at the Hind, standing a few feet behind Ephraim, and then at Pollux, staring at her with wolfish intensity from across the room. The Hind’s golden eyes simmered, focused wholly on her lover. As if she were waiting for the go-ahead to jump his bones.

“Yuck,” Naomi muttered, and Hunt suppressed his smile.

Celestina seemed to be searching for something to say, so Hunt spared her and said, “We shall treat your triarii as our brothers and sisters.” The Harpy sneered at the last word. Hunt’s lightning sparked in answer. “For however long they remain here.” For however long I let you live, you fucking psychopath.

Celestina recovered enough to say, “Their alliance shall be only one of the many successes for our mating.”

Ephraim voiced his agreement, even as he raked his stare over his mate once more. Approval shone there, but Celestina … Her throat bobbed.

She’d … been with a male, hadn’t she? Come to think of it, Hunt didn’t even know if she preferred males. Had the Asteri considered that? Would they care what her preferences were, what her experience was, before throwing her into bed with Ephraim?

Baxian’s eyes remained on the Harpy and the Hind, cold and watchful. He didn’t seem particularly pleased to see them.

“I have some refreshments prepared,” Celestina said, gesturing to the tables against the wall of windows. “Come, let us drink to this happy occasion.”

Bryce had just finished telling Ruhn and Ithan what had gone down in the Bone Quarter—both of them looking as sick as Tharion had to hear about the real fate of the dead—when someone knocked on the door.

“So Connor,” Ithan was saying, rubbing his face. “He’s … They fed his soul into the Gate to become firstlight? Secondlight? Whatever.”

Bryce wrung her hands. “It seems like they’d wait until we’re all dust, and even our descendants have forgotten him, but considering how much we pissed off the Under-King, I feel like there’s a chance he might … move Connor up the list.”

“I need to know,” Ithan said. “I need to fucking know.”

Bryce’s throat ached. “I do, too. We’ll try to find out.”

Tharion asked, “But what can be done to help him—any of them?”

Silence fell. The knock on the door came again, and Bryce sighed. “We’ll figure that out, too.”

Ruhn toyed with one of the hoops through his left ear. “Is there someone we should … tell?”

Bryce unlocked the door. “The Asteri undoubtedly know about it and don’t care. They’ll say it’s our civic duty to give back whatever power we can.”

Ithan shook his head, looking toward the window.

Ruhn said, “We have to think carefully about this. Was the Prince of the Pit pushing you and Athalar to go there by sending those Reapers? Or by having his Reapers hint that Emile and Sofie might be hiding there? Why? To—activate your combined powers with that Gate trick? He couldn’t have known that would happen. We have to think about how the Asteri would retaliate if this is something they want kept under wraps. And what they’d do if we do indeed find and harbor Emile and Sofie.”

“We’ll game it out,” Bryce said, and finally opened the door.

A hand locked around her throat, crushing the air from her. “You little cunt,” Sabine Fendyr hissed.

Ruhn should have considered who might need to knock on the front door. Instead, he’d been so focused on the truth Bryce had revealed about their lives—and afterlives—that he’d let her open it without checking.

Sabine hurled Bryce across the room, hard enough that she slammed into the side of the sectional, scooting the behemoth couch back by an inch.

Ruhn was up instantly, gun aimed at the Alpha. Behind him, Tharion helped Bryce to her feet. Sabine’s attention remained fixed on Bryce as she said, “What game are you playing, Princess?” That title was clearly what had kept Sabine from ripping out Bryce’s throat.

Bryce’s brows lowered, but Ithan stepped to Ruhn’s side, violence gleaming in his eyes. “What the Hel are you talking about?”

Sabine bristled, but she didn’t remove her focus from Bryce as she continued, “You just can’t stay out of wolf business, can you?”

Bryce said coolly, “Wolf business?”

Sabine pointed a clawed finger toward Ithan. “He was exiled. And yet you decided to harbor him. No doubt part of some plan of yours to rob me of my birthright.”

“So the big bad wolf came all the way here to yell at me about it?”

“The big bad wolf,” Sabine seethed, “came all the way here to remind you that no matter what my father might have said, you are no wolf.” She sneered at Ithan. “And neither is he. So stay the fuck out of wolf affairs.”

Ithan let out a low growl, but pain seemed to ripple beneath it.

Ruhn snarled, “You want to talk, Sabine, then sit the fuck down like an adult.” At his side, he was vaguely aware of Bryce thumbing in a message on her phone.

Ithan squared his shoulders. “Bryce isn’t harboring me. Perry dropped me here.”

“Perry’s a moon-eyed fool,” Sabine spat.

Bryce angled her head, though. “What about this arrangement, exactly, bothers you, Sabine?” The way her voice had iced over … Fuck, she sounded exactly like their father.

Ithan said, “Bryce has nothing to do with you and me, Sabine. Leave her out of it.”

Sabine pivoted toward him, bristling. “You’re a disgrace and a traitor, Holstrom. A spineless waste, if this is the company you choose to keep. Your brother would be ashamed.”

Ithan snapped, “My brother would tell me good fucking riddance to you.”

Sabine snarled, the sound pure command. “You might be exiled, but you still obey me.”

Ithan shuddered, but refused to back down.

Tharion stepped forward. “You want to throw down with Holstrom, Sabine, go ahead. I’ll stand as witness.”

Ithan would lose. And Sabine would gut him so thoroughly there would be no hope of recovery. He’d wind up with his brother, his soul served up to the Under-King and the Dead Gate on a silver platter.

Ruhn braced himself—and realized he had no idea what to do.

Celestina should have laid out some hard alcohol rather than rosé. Hunt wasn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with having to keep smiling in a room full of his enemies. To deal with watching two people who had no choice but to make an arranged mating work somehow. They wouldn’t officially be mated until the party next month, but their life together was already beginning.

Beside him, at the doors to the private veranda off Celestina’s study, Isaiah knocked back his pale pink wine and muttered, “What a clusterfuck.”

“I feel bad for her,” Naomi said on Isaiah’s other side.

Hunt grunted his agreement, watching Celestina and Ephraim attempt to make small talk across the room. Beyond them, the Harpy seemed content to sneer at Hunt the whole night. Baxian lurked by the door to the hall. Pollux and Lidia talked near the Harpy with bent heads.