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

The word was teasing, a reminder of their earlier conversation. She did have a sense of humor, then.

Day said, “I work with people who are … Well, they make Mordoc seem like one of those sweet little otters in your city. There are days when it wears on me more than others. Today was one of them.”

“Do you at least have friends to lean on?” he asked.

“No. I’ve never had a true friend in my life.”

He winced. “That’s … really sad.”

She snorted. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think I’d have made it this far without my friends. Or my sister.”

“For those of us with neither friends nor family, we find ways to make do.”

“No family, eh? A true lone wolf.” He added, “My father’s a piece of shit, so … a lot of the time I wish I were like you.”

“I have a family. A very influential one.” She propped her head on a burning fist. “They’re pieces of shit, too.”

“Yeah? Your dad ever burn you for speaking out of turn?”

“No. But he did flog me for sneezing during prayers.”

She wasn’t an Asteri, then. Asteri had no family. No children. No parents. They just were.

He blinked. “All right. We’re even.”

She laughed quietly, a low, soft sound that ran delicate fingers over his skin. “A truly tragic thing to have in common.”

“It really is.” He smiled, even if she couldn’t see it.

She said, “Since you are in a position of power, I’m assuming your father must be as well.”

“Why can’t I be self-made?”

“Call it intuition.”

He shrugged. “All right. What about it?”

“Does he know of your rebel sympathies?”

“I think my work has gone beyond sympathies now, but … no. He’d kill me if he knew.”

“Yet you risk your life.”

“What’s the question, Day?”

Her mouth quirked to the side. Or what he could see of it did. “You could use your power and rank to undermine people like your father, you know. Be a secret agent for the rebellion in that sense, rather than doing this message-carrying.”

She didn’t know who he was, right? Ruhn shifted in his chair. “Honestly? I’m shit at those deception games. My father is the master of them. This is far more my speed.”

“And yet your father is allowed to stay in power?”

“Yeah. Aren’t all of these assholes allowed to stay in power? Who’s going to stop them?”

“Us. People like us. One day.”

Ruhn snorted. “That’s some idealistic shit right there. You know that if this rebellion is triumphant, we’ll likely have a war for dominance between all the Houses, don’t you?”

“Not if we play the game well.” Her tone was completely serious.

“Why tell me any of this? I thought you were all … no-personal-stuff.”

“Let’s chalk it up to a difficult day.”

“All right,” he repeated. He leaned back in his chair once more, letting himself fall quiet. To his surprise, Day did the same. They sat in silence for long minutes before she said, “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to normally in … a very long time.”

“How long?”

“So long that I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be myself. I think I’ve lost my true self entirely. To destroy monsters, we become monsters. Isn’t that what they say?”

“Next time, I’ll bring us some psychic beers and a TV. We’ll get you normal again.”

She laughed, the sound like clear bells. Something male and primal in him sat up at the sound. “I’ve only ever had wine.”

He started. “That’s not possible.”

“Beer wasn’t deemed appropriate for a female of my position. I did have a sip once I was old enough to … not answer to my family, but I found it wasn’t to my liking anyway.”

He shook his head in mock horror. “Come visit me in Lunathion sometime, Day. I’ll show you a good time.”

“Given who is present in your city, I think I’ll decline.”

He frowned. Right.

She seemed to remember, too. And why they were here. “Is it confirmed where the rebels are making the strike on the Spine shipment?”

“Not sure. I’m the go-between, remember?”

“You told them what I said about the Asteri’s new mech-suit prototype?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget that it’s the most valuable thing on that train. Leave the rest.”

“Why not blow up the entire Spine and break their supply lines?”

Her fire sizzled. “We’ve tried multiple times. With each attempt, we’ve been thwarted. Either by betrayal or things simply going wrong. An attack like that requires a lot of people, and a lot of secrecy and precision. Do you know how to make explosives?”

“No. But there’s always magic to do that.”

“Remember that the rebellion is mostly humans, and their Vanir allies like to remain hidden. We are dependent on human resourcefulness and abilities. Simply compiling enough explosives to enact a serious hit on the Spine takes a great deal of effort. Especially considering the great losses Ophion has taken to its numbers lately. They’re on the ropes.” She added, oozing disgust, “This isn’t a video game.”

Ruhn growled. “I’m aware of that.”

Her flame banked a fraction. “You’re right. I spoke out of turn.”

“You can just say ‘I’m sorry.’ No need for the fancy talk.”

Another soft laugh. “Bad habit.”

He saluted her. “Well, until next time, Day.”

He half hoped she’d counter with something to keep them talking, keep him here.

But Day and her couch faded into embers drifting on a phantom wind. “Goodbye, Night.”

Ithan Holstrom had never been inside a full-fledged Fae’s house. There’d only been two Fae males on his CCU sunball team, and both were from cities across the territory, so he’d never had the chance to go to their homes and meet their families.

But Prince Ruhn’s house was cool. It reminded him of the apartment Connor and Bronson and Thorne once had—a few blocks from here, actually: crappy old furniture, stained walls with posters of sports teams taped on them, an overly large TV, and a fully stocked bar.

He hadn’t minded crashing on the couch last night. Would have slept on the porch, if it meant being far away from where Bryce and Hunt slept together.

The clock beneath the TV read seven in the morning when Ithan rose and showered. He helped himself to Tristan Flynn’s array of fancy shampoos and body products, all marked FLYNN’S. DO NOT TOUCH, RUHN. I MEAN IT THIS TIME.

Ruhn had written beneath the scribbling on one of the bottles: NO ONE LIKES YOUR WEIRD SHAMPOO ANYWAY.

Flynn had scrawled, right along the bottom edge of the bottle, THEN WHY IS IT NEARLY EMPTY? AND WHY IS YOUR HAIR SO SHINY? ASSHOLE!!!

Ithan had snickered, even as his heart squeezed. He’d had that kind of dynamic once with his brother.

His brother, who was either already turned into secondlight—or on his way there.

The thought had any rising interest in breakfast melting into nausea. By the time Ithan had dressed and gone downstairs—the three Fae males who lived in the house were still asleep—he’d raised his phone to his ear.

Hey, this is Tharion, if you can’t get me, send an otter.