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

Hunt’s rage roared through him.

“All this breeding talk is awfully familiar,” Bryce said, yawning again. “And come to think of it, this whole Fae King versus Fae Queen thing seems like history repeating itself, too.” She scrunched up her features, pretending to think. “But you know …” She patted Truth-Teller’s hilt. “Some things might be different these days.” Hunt could have sworn the Starsword hummed faintly, as if in answer.

“You disgrace our people and history by bearing those blades,” Morven accused.

“Don’t forget that I also bear this,” Bryce said, and held up a hand. Light—pure, concentrated light—fizzed there.

“Oh, you believe mere light can best true darkness?” Morven seethed, shadows rising behind him in a black wave. They were deep, suffocating—lifeless.

Hunt gathered his lightning again, a chain twining around his wrist and forearm. One whip of it, and he’d fry the ghouls holding Dec and Flynn, freeing up two more allies in this fight—

But the Autumn King beheld that concentrated seed of light at Bryce’s finger. His flames banked. Any amusement or rage leached from his expression as he murmured to Morven, “Run.”

“Now that’s the first wise decision you’ve made,” Bryce mocked.

A beam of slicing, burning light shot from her hand toward the ceiling.

Then solid rock rained down upon them all.



* * *



Ruhn had just decided that he really should go see where his friends had disappeared to all day, and was about to do so after leaving the archives that night when he found himself walking back toward the bedrooms with Lidia.

“I know it’s an unusual situation,” she said when they reached his door, “but I liked working with you today.”

He halted, throat working before he managed to say, “Must be nice, to finally get to … be yourself. Out in the open.”

“It’s complicated,” she said quietly.

She shifted on her feet, like she wanted to say more but didn’t know how, so Ruhn decided to do her a favor and asked, “Wanna come in for a minute?” At her arched brow, he added, “Just to talk.”

Her lips curved, but she nodded. He opened his door, stepping aside to let her in. They found seats in the threadbare armchairs before the crackling fire, and for a moment, Lidia stared at the flames as if they were speaking to her.

Ruhn was about to offer her a drink when she said, “Everything in my life is complicated. All the relationships, real and faked … sometimes I can’t even tell them apart.” Her voice was soft—sad. And utterly exhausted.

Ruhn cleared his throat. “When you and I …” Fucked. “Slept together, you knew who I was. Beyond the code name, I mean.”

Her eyes found his, dancing with flame. “Yes.”

“Did it complicate things for you?”

She held his stare, her eyes as gold as the flames before them, and his heart thundered. “No. I was shocked, but it didn’t complicate anything.”

“Shocked?”

She gestured to him. “You’re … you.”

“And that’s … bad?”

She huffed a laugh, and it was so much like Day that he couldn’t get a breath down.

“You’re the defiant, partying prince. You have all those piercings and tattoos. I didn’t have you down for being a rebel.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t on my five-year plan, either.”

She laughed again, and the breathy sound went right to his cock, wrapping tight. Her voice had always done that. “Why risk it?”

“At first?” He shrugged, fighting past the rising lust pounding through his body. “Cormac blackmailed me. Said he’d tell my father about my mind-speaking abilities. But then I realized it was … it was the right thing to do.”

“Agent Silverbow will be sorely missed. He already is.”

“You knew Cormac, then?”

“No, but I knew of the things he accomplished for Ophion, and the people caught up in the war. He was a good male.” She glanced to the shut door. “His father did not deserve a son like him.”

Ruhn nodded.

She looked at him intently. “Your father, too—he does not deserve a son like you.”

The words shouldn’t have meant anything, especially coming from the Hind, but Ruhn’s throat tightened at the raw honesty in her voice.

“Can I ask,” he ventured, “about your deal with the Ocean Queen?”

Lidia’s jaw tightened. “I was young, and afraid, when I made my bargain with her. But even now, I’d make the same choices. For my sons.”

“What happened?” He met her eyes. “I know it’s not my business, but …”

“Pollux isn’t their father.” He nearly sighed with relief. “It …” She struggled for words. “I come from a long line of powerful stag shifters. We have rituals. Secret ones, old ones. We don’t necessarily worship the same gods that you do. I think our gods predate this world, but I’ve never confirmed it.”

“Let me guess: You participated in some kind of secret sex rite and got pregnant?”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed—a full, throaty sound this time. “Essentially, yes. A fertility rite, deep in the Aldosian Forest. I was selected from the females of my family. A male from another family was chosen. Neither of our identities were known to each other, or to each other’s families. It was quick, and not particularly interesting, and if there was fertility magic, I couldn’t tell you what the Hel it was.”

“Were you already with Pollux then?”

“Ruhn …” She looked at her hands. “My father took me from my mother when I was three. I remember being taken, and not understanding, and only learning later, when I was old enough, that my father was a power-hungry monster. He’s not worth the breath it takes to speak of him, and I blamed my mother for letting him take me away. I became his little protégé, I think out of some hope that it would wound her when she heard I had turned out exactly like him.”

She took a shaky breath. “I trained, and I schemed, and I wound up in Sandriel’s triarii, a high honor for my family. I’d been serving Sandriel for ten years when my father chose me for this ritual. I had become adept at … getting people to talk. Pollux and I were dancing around each other, but I had not yet decided to let him into my bed. So I went to the ritual.”

Ruhn couldn’t move, couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to.

“A few weeks later, I knew I was pregnant. A baby from a sacred ritual would have been celebrated. I should have rushed right to my father to announce the good news, but I hesitated. For the first time in my life, I hesitated. And I didn’t know why I couldn’t tell him. Why, when I thought of the baby inside of me, when I thought of handing that child over to him, I couldn’t.”

She hooked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the restless motion at odds with her usual poised demeanor. Ruhn refrained from putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I knew that within a matter of days, Pollux or the others—Athalar was still with us then—would scent the pregnancy. So I staged my own kidnapping and disappearance. I made it look like Ophion had grabbed me. I didn’t even know where I was running to. But I couldn’t stop thinking of the babies—I knew it was twins, by that point—and how I would do anything to keep them out of my father’s hands. Out of Sandriel’s hands. I knew, deep down, what sort of monsters I served. I had always known. And I didn’t want to be like them. Not just for the babies’ sake, but my own. So I ran.”

“And that’s when the Ocean Queen found you?” His voice was hoarse.

“I found her. When I finally paused to breathe, I remembered what some rebels had claimed while I … interrogated them. That the ocean itself would come to help them. It seemed strange enough that I took a chance. I walked into a known rebel base and surrendered. I begged to be taken to the ocean.”