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

“Even though she was hardly any better than the Asteri?” Bryce challenged.

Aidas lifted his head. “There is no denying how Theia spent most of her existence. But there was goodness in her, Bryce Quinlan. And love. She came to regret her actions, both in her home world and on Midgard. She tried to make things right.”

“Too little, too late,” Bryce said.

“I know,” Aidas admitted. “Believe me, I know. But there is much that I regret, too.” He swallowed, the strong column of his throat working.

“What happened?” Bryce pressed. Hunt almost didn’t want to know.

Aidas sighed, the sound weighted with the passing of countless millennia. “The Asteri ordered Pelias to use the Horn to close the Northern Rift, to defend themselves against attack. He did, sealing out all the other worlds in the process, but the Horn broke before he could close it entirely on Hel. The tiniest of wedges was left in the Rift for my kind to sneak through. Helena used black salt to contact me, hoping to launch another offensive against the Asteri, but we couldn’t find a way. Unless the Rift was fully opened, we could not strike. And our numbers were so depleted that we would not have stood a chance.”

Thanatos picked up the narrative, resting his helmet on a knee. “The vampyrs and Reapers had defected to the Asteri. They betrayed us, the cowards.” From the shadows behind him, his hounds snarled, as if in agreement. “They’d been our captains and lieutenants, for the most part. Our armies were in shambles without them. We needed time to rebuild.”

“I believe Helena realized,” Aidas went on, “that the war would not be won in her lifetime. Nor by any of her sons. They had too much of their father in them. And they, too, greatly enjoyed the benefits of being in the Asteri’s favor.”

Bryce uncrossed her arms, leaning forward. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand why Helena built the Cave of Princes. Just to talk to you guys like long-distance pen pals?”

Aidas’s full mouth kicked up at a corner. “In a way, yes. Helena needed our counsel. But by that point, she’d also figured out what Theia had done in her last moments alive.”





60


The Cave of Princes was as foul and disorienting as Ruhn remembered. But at least he had a kernel of starlight to keep the ghouls at bay in the misty dark. Even if it took most of his concentration to summon it and keep it glimmering.

He and Lidia had entered hours ago, and he’d immediately smelled Flynn’s and Dec’s scents hanging in the air. Along with Morven’s and the Murder Twins’. But it was the sixth scent that had sent Ruhn running down the passages, Lidia easily keeping pace with him. A scent that haunted his nightmares, waking and asleep.

Somehow, the Autumn King was here. And his father wasn’t lying in wait for Ruhn, but heading deeper into the caves, after Bryce. Ruhn pushed ahead, even when his legs demanded a break.

Morven’s and his father’s scents—with the others in tow—cut through nearly hidden tunnels and steeply descending passageways, as if the Stag King knew every secret, direct route. He probably did, as King of Avallen. Or maybe the ghouls showed him the way.

Eventually, Ruhn’s body screamed for water, and he paused. Lidia didn’t complain—didn’t do anything but follow him, always alert to any threat. Yet as they once again rushed down the passage, Lidia said quietly, “I apologize for last night.”

Despite every instinct roaring at him to hurry, Ruhn halted. “What do you mean?”

Her throat worked, her face almost luminous in his starlight. “When I … flinched.”

He blinked. “Why the Hel would you apologize for that?” Pollux should be the one to apologize. Hel, Ruhn would make the fucker apologize to Lidia—on his knees—before putting a bullet in his head.

Color stained her cheeks, a rosy glow against the misty darkness behind them. “I like to think myself immune to … lingering memories.”

Ruhn shook his head, about to object, when she went on. “Everything I did with Pollux, I did willingly. Even if I found his brand of entertainment hard to stomach at times.”

“I get it,” Ruhn said a shade hoarsely. “I really do. I’m not judging, Lidia. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever.”

“I want to, though.” Lidia glanced at his mouth.

“Want to what?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.

“Know what your body feels like. Your mouth. In reality. Not in some dreamworld.”

His cock hardened, and he shifted on his feet. He didn’t mask the arousal in his tone, his scent, when he said, “Anytime you want, Lidia.”

Except, of course, right now. But after he sorted through whatever shitshow was about to go down in these caves—

The pulse in her throat seemed to flutter in answer. “I want you all the time.”

Gods damn. Ruhn leaned in. Ran his mouth, his tongue, up her neck. Lidia let out a breathy little sound that had his balls drawing tight.

Ruhn said against her soft skin, “When we get out of these caves, you’ll show me exactly where you want me, and how you want me.”

She squirmed a little, and he knew that if he slid his hand between her legs, he’d find her wet. “Ruhn,” she murmured.

He kissed her neck again, watching through heavily lidded eyes as her nipples pebbled, poking against the thin material of her shirt. He’d explore those a lot. Maybe do a little exploring right now—

A rasping, ancient hiss sounded from the rocks nearby.

And this was so not the place. Ruhn peeled away from Lidia, meeting her eyes. They were glazed with lust.

But she cleared her throat. “We have to keep going.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Maybe you should, ah, take a moment,” she said, smirking at the bulge in his pants.

He threw her a wry look. “You don’t think the ghouls will appreciate it?”

Lidia snickered. Then grabbed his hand, tugging him back into a steady, paced run. “I want to be the only one who gets to appreciate it from now on.”

He couldn’t stop the purely male smugness that flooded him. “I can live with that.”



* * *



“I know what Theia did,” Bryce said, shaking her head. “She tried to send her daughters back to their home world, but only Silene made it.”

Aidas arched a brow. “I’m assuming you have gleaned something of the truth, if you know of Silene by name. Did you learn what happened to her?”

“She left a … a magical video that explained everything.” Bryce pulled Truth-Teller from the sheath at her side. Here, at least, the blades didn’t pull at each other. “Silene had this with her when she returned to her home world. And now I’ve brought it back to Midgard.”

Aidas started at the sight of the dagger. “Did Silene account for what happened during that last encounter with her mother?”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Just tell me, Aidas.”

Thanatos and Apollion shifted in their seats, annoyed at her irreverence, but Aidas’s mouth curved toward a smile. “It took me—and Helena—years to understand what Theia actually did with her magic.”

“She shielded her daughters,” Bryce said, recalling how Theia’s star had split in three, with an orb going to each of her children. “She used the Harp to carry her magic over to them as a protection spell of sorts.”

Aidas nodded. “Theia used the Harp to divide her magic—all her magic—between the three of them. A third to Silene. A third to Helena. And the remainder stayed with Theia.” His eyes dimmed with an old sorrow. “But she did not keep enough to protect herself. Why do you think Theia fell to Pelias that day? With only a third of her power, she did not stand a chance against him.”