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

“Here I was,” Ruhn drawled, nodding at Flynn and Dec to keep going down the hall, “thinking I didn’t exist to you.”

Morven leveled a cold look at him—it made Ruhn’s father seem downright cheerful. But Ruhn noticed that the king waited to speak until Lidia had walked past, out the door, not sparing a glance for either of them.

“What are your sister’s intentions in coming here?”

“Bryce told you,” Ruhn said tightly. “She wants information.”

“On what?”

“The sword and knife, for one thing. The rest is classified.” Asshole, he didn’t need to add.

Morven’s eyes darkened to blackest night. “And does she plan to claim Avallen for herself?”

Ruhn burst out laughing. “What? No. If she did, I wouldn’t tell you, but trust me: this place …” He surveyed the dark, crypt-like hall. “This isn’t her style. Just ask my father.”

“That is another thing: Your sister must have done something to him. How else would she come to possess his journal?”

“If she has, it didn’t involve trying to claim his crown. She’s said nothing about it.” Ruhn glared at the king. “And again: If she was planning some sort of Fae coup, why the Hel would I tell you about it?”

“Because you are true Fae, not some half-breed—”

“I’d mind how you speak about my sister.”

Morven’s shadows gathered at his fingers, his shoulders. Wild, angry shadows that Ruhn’s own balked to meet. They seemed corrupted somehow, like those Seamus and Duncan wielded mentally. “You are Starborn. You have an obligation to our people.”

“To do what?”

“To ensure they survive.”

“Bryce is Starborn, too.”

Ruhn, Dec, and Flynn had given his sister and the others all the pointers they could regarding what they’d face in the dark labyrinth of the Cave of Princes, but their own journey through the misty cave network had been so chaotic that they had little to offer when it came to a direct route to Pelias’s tomb. Bryce hadn’t seemed too concerned, despite her comment last night about time running out. But maybe she was putting on a brave face.

“Yes,” Morven sneered, “and what has your sister done with her Starborn heritage except show contempt for the Fae?”

“You don’t know a damn thing about her.”

“I know she spat on her Fae lineage when she announced her union with that angel.” His shadows quivered with rage.

“All right,” Ruhn said, turning to go. “I’m officially done. Bye.”

Morven grabbed him by the arm. Shadows slithered up from his hand onto Ruhn’s forearm, squeezing tight. “After dealing with your sister yesterday, I prayed all night to Luna for guidance.” His eyes gleamed with a fanatic’s fervor. “She allowed me to see that you, despite your … transgressions … are our people’s only hope of regaining some credibility in future generations.”

Ruhn sent his own shadows racing down his arm, biting at Morven’s and snapping free of their grip with satisfying ease. “Luna doesn’t strike me as the type who’d stoop to talking to assholes like you.”

Despite his shredded shadows, Morven’s fingers dug into his arm. “There are females here who—”

“Nope.” Ruhn shrugged off his uncle’s hand. Kept a wall of shadows at his back as he walked away. “Bye.”

“Selfish fool,” Morven hissed. Ruhn could have sworn the king’s shadows hissed, too.

But Ruhn lifted his arm above his head and flipped him off without looking back. He found Dec and Flynn waiting by a courtyard fountain outside, a safe distance from Lidia.

“What was that all about?” Flynn asked, falling into step beside Ruhn.

“Not worth explaining,” Ruhn replied, keeping his eyes on the archives dome a few streets away.

Declan asked Lidia, “Any chance Morven will run to the Asteri?”

“Not yet,” she said quietly. “Bryce’s claims yesterday were true—she handled him well.” She added, turning toward Ruhn, “You could learn a thing or two from your sister.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruhn demanded.

Flynn and Dec pretended to be busy looking into a closed butcher shop as they passed by.

“You’re a prince,” Lidia said coolly. “Start acting like one.”





52


You’re a prince. Start acting like one.

Fuck, Lidia knew precisely what to say to piss him off. To keep him thinking about her in the hours that passed, during all the fruitless searching for anything about the missing islands, the Starsword, the dagger, or the mists.

She’d gone on a walk for half an hour and then come back, smelling of the sea, and still hadn’t said anything to him.

“You could, uh, talk to her,” Flynn said from beside Ruhn, shutting yet another useless drawer full of catalog cards. “I can literally feel you brooding.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“You’re brooding,” Declan said from Ruhn’s other side.

“You’re brooding,” Ruhn said, nodding to Dec’s taut face.

“I have good reason to. I can’t get in touch with my family or Marc—”

Ruhn softened. “I’m sure they’re fine. You warned them to lie low before all that shit at the Meat Market, and Sathia said she reached out to them. Marc will make sure they stay safe.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier, knowing I can’t even check in with them thanks to this medieval playland.”

Ruhn and Flynn grunted their agreement.

“This place sucks,” Dec said, and slammed the drawer he’d been combing through closed. “And so does this library’s cataloging system.” Dec peered down the long, long row and called, “Anything?”

Ruhn tried but failed not to look at Lidia. She’d taken the far end of the catalog, definitely on purpose, and had yet to say a word to them in the hours they’d been here together. “No,” she said, and continued her work.

Fine.

Just fine.



* * *



“Well,” Hunt whispered, voice echoing off the slick black stone before being swallowed by the dense mists, “this is terrifying.”

The reek of mold and rot was already giving him a headache, unsettling every instinct that told him to get out of the misty enclosed space and into the skies, into the safety of the wind and clouds—

“Once you’ve seen a Middengard Wyrm feeding,” Bryce muttered in the soupy darkness, waving away the mist in front of her face to no avail, “nothing’s as bad.”

“I don’t want to know what that is,” Baxian said.

Hunt appreciated that Baxian hadn’t needed to be asked before flanking Bryce’s exposed side. Tharion and Sathia walked close behind, saying little as the pathway descended. Ruhn had said the carvings on the walls started a little ways in, but they hadn’t found a hint of them yet. Just rock—and mist, so thick they could only see a few feet ahead.

Bryce said, “Think an earthworm with a mouth full of double rows of teeth. The size of two city buses.”

“I said I didn’t want to know what that was,” Baxian grumbled.

“It’s not even that bad, compared to some of the other shit I saw,” Bryce went on. And then admitted, if only because they had followed her into the deadly dark and deserved to know the whole truth, “They have a thing called the Mask—a tool that can literally raise the dead. No necromancers needed. No fresh bodies, either.”

They all stared at her. “Really?” Tharion asked.

Bryce nodded gravely. “I saw the Mask used to animate a skeleton that had been dead for ages. And give it enough strength that it could take on the Wyrm.”

Hunt blew out a whistle. “That’s some mighty powerful death-magic.”

He refrained from complaining that she hadn’t mentioned it until now, because he certainly wasn’t mentioning how Rigelus had taken his lightning to do something similar, and Baxian, thankfully, didn’t say anything, either. They’d heard nothing about what had come of it, but it couldn’t be good.

Another thing he’d have to atone for.

He’d heard what Bryce was trying to tell him last night, about all of them bearing a piece of the blame for their collective actions. But it didn’t stop him from harboring the guilt. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Didn’t want to feel it anymore.