House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

Lidia slid her stare to the Fae King at last. Beheld his pale, hateful face. “And you’re a spineless coward who disavowed his own child at the first sign of trouble.”

“Had you any honor, any understanding of royal duty, you would understand why I did so.” Shadows twined over the shoulders of his fine black jacket, the silver embroidery. The Stag King, they called him. It was an insult to deer shifters. The Fae male had no affinity for the beasts, despite his throne, crafted from the bones of some noble, butchered beast. “You would know there are more important things than even one’s own children.”

There was nothing more important. Nothing. She was here today, on this island, back in the field once more, because there would never be anything more important than the two boys she’d left on the Depth Charger.

“I enjoyed watching you grovel, you know,” Lidia said. And she had—despite everything, she’d loved every second of Morven kneeling before the Asteri. Just as she loved seeing him bristle with fury as she threw his humiliation in his face.

“I have no doubt a blackheart like you did,” Morven sneered. “But I wonder: Should a better offer come along, will you betray these friends as easily as you did your masters?”

Lidia’s fingers curled at her sides, but she kept her face impassive. “Are you sulking because you did not see me for what I truly am, Morven, or because I witnessed you in your moment of shame? In the moment you traded loyalty to your son for your own life?”

He seethed, shadows poised to strike. “You know nothing of loyalty.”

Lidia let out a low laugh, and glanced toward the five figures heading out into the greenery of the countryside. Toward the red-haired female in the center of the group. “I’ve never had a leader to stir the sentiment.”

Morven noted the direction of her gaze and scowled. “You’re a fool to follow her.”

Lidia gave him a sidelong look, pushing off the stone wall of the balcony. “You’re a fool not to,” she said quietly, striding for the archway into the castle proper. “It will be your doom. And Avallen’s.”

Morven snarled, “Is that a threat?”

Lidia kept walking, leaving her enemy and the miserable dawn behind. “Just some professional advice.”



* * *



“So all that talk, all those myths and hand-wringing about the Cave of Princes,” Hunt said to Bryce, sweating lightly from their hours-long trek across the rolling fields to this craggy cluster of hills, the castle now a lone spike on the horizon behind them, “and this is it?”

Bryce looked around. “Underwhelming, isn’t it?”

The entrance to the cave was little more than a sliver between two boulders. Ancient, weatherworn runes were etched into the stones, but that was all that set this place apart from any other crack in the rock face.

That, and the tongue of mist slithering out from the gloom.

“Morven needs a decorator,” Tharion said, peering into the darkness beyond. “I think he could really move beyond his ancestors’ shadows-and-misery theme.”

“This is how he likes it,” Sathia said. “The way Avallen was when it was first built—right after the First Wars ended. His father kept it that way, and his father before him, going all the way back to Pelias himself.”

Hunt swapped a look with Bryce. That was precisely why they’d come. If there was a place any bit of truth might be preserved, it was here. He didn’t relish the thought of going into a cave; some intrinsic part of him bucked at the idea of being so far from the wind, so far belowground, trapped once again. But he forced himself past the bolt of fear and dread and said to Sathia, “Do you have any idea how the mists keep the Asteri out of Avallen?” She hadn’t volunteered the information yesterday, but maybe it was because they hadn’t thought to ask.

“No,” Sathia said. “The rumor is that the magic of the mists is so old, it predates even the Asteri’s arrival.”

“Well,” Tharion said, gesturing dramatically, “ladies first, Legs.”

“Such chivalry,” Bryce retorted.

“You’re the one with a built-in flashlight,” Hunt reminded her.

She rolled her eyes and said to a wary Sathia, “Word of advice: don’t let them push you around.”

“I won’t,” Sathia said. For some reason, Hunt believed her.

Bryce was looking at Flynn’s sister as if she was thinking the same thing. “It’s good to have another female around here.” She nodded to Baxian, Tharion, and Hunt. “The Alphahole Club was getting too crowded for my liking.”

Bryce halted at the line between light and shadow. The mist trickling along the cave floor reached for her pink sneakers with white, curving claws. Her starlight didn’t pierce the darkness beyond a few feet ahead. It only illuminated a thicker cloud of mist. Masking any threats waiting beyond.

She couldn’t bring herself to cross that line.

“This place feels wrong,” Baxian murmured, coming up beside Bryce.

“Here’s hoping we see daylight again,” Tharion said with equal quiet from a step behind them.

“We will,” Hunt said, adjusting the heavy pack strapped between his wings. “Nothing to worry about except some ghouls. And wraiths. And ‘scary shit,’ Ruhn claimed.”

“Oh, just that,” Bryce said, throwing him a wry glance. She added to Sathia, pointing to the spires barely poking over the green horizon, “It’s not too late to head back to the castle.”

“I’m not going to sit around with those mind-reading bastards lurking about,” Sathia hissed.

They all turned toward her.

“Did something … happen?” Hunt asked carefully. Tharion was watching her closely.

“I’m not going to be left alone in that castle,” Sathia insisted, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers digging into her white sweater, and Bryce knew she didn’t want to discuss it further.

“Fair enough,” Hunt said, reading Sathia’s tone, too. “But Ruhn warned me that most of what’s in here is old, and wicked, and likes to drink blood. And eat souls. I’m not sure of the order, though.”

“Sounds like your run-of-the-mill Fae nobility, then,” Bryce said, hefting her heavy pack higher. She winked at Sathia. “You’ll be right at home.”

The Fae female gave her a watery smile, but to her credit, didn’t run screaming from the cave and its grasping, misty fingers. If Sathia did indeed prefer to face what lurked in this cave over the Murder Twins, maybe Bryce owed it to her and females everywhere to kick some ass when they got back.

If they got back.

“Right,” Hunt said. “According to Declan, Pelias’s tomb and the Starsword’s resting place lie right in the center of the cave network.” They’d swiped food and water from the surprised-looking kitchen staff, preparing for a few days’ journey. “But there are lots of things that will try to eat us along the way.”

Bryce ignored the twisting in her stomach. She’d gone to another world, she’d faced an Asteri—she could deal with a few ghouls and wraiths. She had three badasses with her. Plus Sathia. She could do this.

Bryce faced the others and held out her hand at waist level. “Go Team Caves on three?”

They all looked at her, but didn’t cover her hand with theirs. Not even Hunt, the bastard. After the way they’d fucked last night, the least he could do was indulge her with some team spirit. But he gave her a look, as if to say, Gravitas, Quinlan.

Fuck that. She lifted her hand in the air and shouted, “Gooooo Team Caves!”

The words echoed off the boulders, down the passage, and into the misty darkness beyond. Where they suddenly cut off, as if the caves themselves had devoured them.

“That’s not creepy at all,” Hunt murmured.

“Totally normal,” Baxian agreed.

“Don’t worry,” Bryce crooned. “I’ll protect you from the scary cave.” And with that, she strode into the dark.



* * *



Morven cornered Ruhn outside the dining hall just before he and his friends left for the archives again after breakfast.

“A word,” Morven said, hooking a finger toward him. The mass of shadows from the day before was gone, but the crown of them remained floating atop his head.