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

“Is that a request or a threat?” Nesta asked quietly, and even with a portal between them, the ground seemed to shudder at the female’s power.

“It’s a plea. A desperate fucking plea,” Bryce said, and exposed her palms to the female in supplication. “I need it to give me an edge against the Asteri. To destroy them.”

“No.” Nesta’s eyes held no mercy. “Now shut the portal and be gone.” She glanced over a shoulder, where the stars seemed to be winking out in the far distance. “Before the High Lord gets here and rips you to shreds.”

“What is that?” Hunt murmured, marking the darkness sweeping in.

“Rhysand,” Bryce murmured back, then said to Nesta, “Please. I don’t need the Mask forever. Just … until it’s done. Then I’ll return it.”

Nesta laughed, pure ice. “You expect me to trust a female who tried to deceive and outsmart us at every turn?”

“I did outsmart you,” Bryce said coolly, and Nesta’s eyes sparked at the challenge. “But that’s neither here nor there. Look, I get it—the Mask is insanely powerful and dangerous. I wouldn’t trust someone who asked me to use the Horn, either. But my world needs this.”

Nesta said nothing.

The darkness crept closer. Fury leaked from it, along with a primal rage. Bryce took a step forward, and Nesta’s dagger angled upward.

“Please,” Bryce said again. “I promise I’ll return the Mask—and Truth-Teller. After I’ve done what I need to do here.”

“You must think me a fool if you believe I’d hand over one of the deadliest weapons in my world. Especially when the monsters in your world have wanted to get their hands on it and the rest of the Dread Trove for millennia. Not to mention that few people can use the Mask and live. You put it on, and you might very well die.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Bryce said calmly.

“And I’m supposed to trust that you, after all you did here, are going to return the Mask out of the goodness of your heart?”

Bryce nodded. “Yes.”

Nesta laughed joylessly, glancing at the approaching darkness. “All I have to do is wait until he gets here, you know. Then you’ll wish you’d shut that portal.”

“I know,” Bryce said, and her throat tightened. “But I’m begging you. The Asteri just exterminated an entire human community in my city. Families.” Her eyes burned with tears, and the frigid wind threatened to freeze them. “They killed children. To punish me. To punish my mate”—Bryce gestured to Hunt—“for escaping their clutches. This has to end—it has to stop somewhere.”

The cold anger in Nesta’s eyes flickered.

Bryce couldn’t stop the tears that slid down her cheeks, turning instantly to ice. “I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to. But I promise I’ll return the Mask. I brought collateral—to prove that my intentions are good. That I will give it back.”

And with that, Bryce ushered her parents forward. Ember and Randall gave her wary glances, but edged closer to the portal.

It tore Bryce’s heart out to do it, but she said firmly to Nesta, “These are my parents. Ember Quinlan and Randall Silago. I’m giving them to you—to stay in your world, until I destroy the Asteri and return the Mask to you.”

Nesta’s eyes flared with shock, but she mastered it instantly, squaring her shoulders. “And if you die in the process?”

“Then my parents will be safer stuck in your world than in mine.”

“But the Mask will be in yours. In the hands of the Asteri.”

“I don’t have anything greater to offer you than this,” Bryce said, voice cracking.

“It’s not about offering me anything.”

Bryce bit back her sob, and her parents turned to her, confused and trusting, angry on her behalf without knowing why.

“Bryce,” Hunt said, eyeing that approaching storm. “We should shut the connection.” Only Hunt knew the horrible thing she was doing. How it had killed her to leave Cooper behind, because it would have been too suspicious to insist he come on so dangerous a mission. But Baxian, Fury, and June would look after him—and Syrinx.

“Bryce?” her mom asked. “What’s going on?”

Bryce couldn’t stop her tears as she looked at her mom, at her dad. Possibly for the last time. “Nothing,” she said, and faced Nesta again.

“If you won’t give me the Mask,” she said to the female, “then take them anyway.”

Nesta blinked.

“Take my parents,” Bryce said, voice breaking. “They have no idea why they’re here or who you are or what your world is. They think I’m talking to someone in Hel. But take them, and keep them safe. I ask only that.”

Nesta studied Bryce, then Bryce’s mother and father. She set her dagger down on the side table near her chair. “You’d leave them in my world … and possibly never see them again.”

“Yes,” Bryce said. “I need Hunt to help me against the Asteri. But my parents are human. They’ll be easy targets for the Asteri—they’re already being hunted by them. They’re good people.” She fought back another sob. “They’re the best people.”

“Bryce,” Randall said, enough warning in his voice that she knew he’d spied the encroaching darkness and could tell that something was not right with this plan.

But Bryce couldn’t look at her parents. Only at Nesta.

The silver fire in the female’s gray-blue eyes banked. Then vanished.

Nesta extended her hand toward Bryce. Something golden glittered in it.

The Mask.

“For whatever good it can do you,” Nesta said quietly, “it’s yours to borrow.” A glance at her parents told Bryce enough: she’d take the collateral.

Bryce’s throat bobbed. Hunt murmured, “What the fuck is that thing?” As if he could sense the ancient, depthless power leaking from the Mask in Nesta’s hand.

But Bryce said, “Thank you,” and reached toward Nesta. She could have sworn the very world—all worlds—shuddered as Nesta’s hand crossed into Midgard and passed the Mask to Bryce.

Then it was in Bryce’s gloved fingers, and it was unholy and empty and cruel—but the star in her chest seemed to purr in its presence.

Bryce tucked it into her jacket, zipping it up inside. It thrummed against her body, its ancient beat echoing in her bones. Her starlight seemed to flicker in answer. Like whatever piece of Theia remained in it knew the Mask, and was glad to see it once more.

“Thank you,” Bryce said again. The darkness was now blotting out the city below Nesta’s window.

“Good luck,” Nesta whispered.

Bryce inclined her head in thanks. And with a subtle nod to Hunt …

His power struck her parents. Not lightning, but a storm wind at their backs. Shoving them through the portal, through the Northern Rift, and into Nesta’s world.

“Bryce!” her mother shouted, stumbling—but Bryce didn’t wait. Didn’t say anything as she willed the Horn to sever the connection, to collapse the bridge between their worlds. The last image she had was of the darkness, of Rhysand’s power, slamming into the windows of Nesta’s room, her mother’s outraged face, Randall reaching for his rifle—

Snow and mist returned. The Rift was shut. And her parents were on the other side of it.

Bryce’s knees wobbled. Hunt put a hand to her elbow. “We have to get out of here.”

She had the Mask. And the Horn. And Theia’s star. And the blades. It would have to be enough to take on living gods.

“Bryce, we have to go,” Hunt said, stronger now. “Can you teleport us back to the wall?”

It should have been a relief, to know her parents were in that other world, with people who she had learned were decent and kind, but her mom would never forgive her. Randall would never forgive her. Not just for throwing them into that world, but for leaving Cooper behind.

“What the fuck,” Hunt hissed, and Bryce whirled as he hauled her behind him.

Right as the Harpy, clad in white to camouflage her against the snow, dove from the mists. Even her black wings had been painted white to blend in.

Amid the swirling mists, she was as awful as Bryce remembered, yet her face … There was nothing alive there, nothing remotely aware. She was a husk. A host. With one mission: kill.





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