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

Lidia carried the crystal bubble containing the Queen of the Fire Sprites through the dim halls, Irithys’s flame splashing gold upon the marble floors and walls.

She said nothing to the sprite—not with all the cameras mounted throughout the Asteri’s palace. Irithys didn’t seem to care. She rested on the bottom of the orb with her legs folded serenely. After several long minutes, though, the sprite said, “The dungeons aren’t this way.”

“And you’re so familiar with the layout of this place?”

“I have a keen memory,” the queen said flatly, her long hair floating above her head in a twirl of yellow flame. “I need only see something once to remember it. I recall the entire walk down here to the mystics in perfect detail.”

A helpful gift. But Lidia said, “We’re not going to the dungeons.”

From the corner of her eye, she noted Irithys peering at her. “But you told Rigelus—”

“It has been a long while since you left your bubble … and used your powers.” Whatever embers were left with the halo’s constraints. “I think it wise that we warm you up a bit before the main event.”

“What do you mean?” the queen demanded, flame shifting to a wary orange, but Lidia said nothing as she unlocked an unmarked iron door on a quiet lower level. Lidia offered up silent thanks to Luna that her hands didn’t shake as she reached for the handle, the gold-and-ruby ring on her finger shimmering in Irithys’s light.

Between one breath and the next, Lidia buried that part of her that begged to distant gods, the part that doubted. She became still and flat, expression as undisturbed as the surface of a forgotten forest pool.

The door creaked open to reveal a table, a chair in front of it, and on the other side of the table, chained with gorsian shackles, an imperial hag.

The hag lifted baleful, yellow-tinged eyes to Lidia as the Hind shut the door behind her. Those eyes lowered to the bubble, the Sprite Queen glowing orange inside it.

Lidia slid into the chair across from the prisoner, setting the sprite’s crystal on the table between them as if it were no more than a handbag. “Thank you for meeting me, Hilde.”

“I had no choice in the matter,” the hag rasped, her thinning white hair glimmering like strands of wispy moonlight. A wretched, twisted creature, but one of hidden beauty. “Ever since your dogs arrested me on trumped-up charges—”

“You were found in possession of a comm-crystal known to be used by Ophion rebels.”

“I never saw that crystal in all my life,” Hilde snapped, shards of brown teeth glinting. “Someone framed me.”

“Yes, yes,” Lidia said, waving a hand. Irithys watched every movement, still that alert shade of orange. “You can plead your case before Rigelus.”

The imperial hag had the good sense to look nervous. “Then why are you here?”

Lidia smirked at Irithys. “To warm you up.”

The Sprite Queen caught her meaning, and simmered into a deep, threatening red.

But the hag let out a hacking laugh. She still wore her imperial uniform, the crest of the Republic frayed over her sagging breasts. “I’ve got nothing to tell you, Lidia.”

Lidia crossed one leg over the other. “We’ll see.”

Hilde hissed, “You think yourself so mighty, so untouchable.”

“Is this the part where you tell me you’ll have your revenge?”

“I knew your mother, girl,” the hag snapped.

Lidia had enough training and self-control to keep her face blank, tone utterly bored. “My mother was a witch-queen. Plenty of people knew her.”

“Ah, but I knew her—flew in her unit in our fighting days.”

Lidia angled her head. “Before or after you sold your soul to Flame and Shadow?”

“I swore allegiance to Flame and Shadow because of your mother. Because she was weak and spineless and had no taste for punishment.”

“I suppose my mother and I differ on that front, then.”

Hilde swept her rheumy gaze over Lidia. “Better than that disgrace of a sister who now calls herself queen.”

“Hypaxia is half Flame and Shadow—she should have your allegiance on both fronts.”

Lidia knew Irithys monitored each word. If she could remember things after seeing them only once, did it also apply to what she heard?

“Your mother was a fool to give you away,” Hilde grumbled.

Lidia arched a brow. “Is that a compliment?”

“Take it as you will.” The hag flashed her rotting teeth in a nightmare of a smile. “You’re a born killer—like any true witch. That girl on the throne is as softhearted as your mother. She’ll bring down the entire Valbaran witch-dynasty.”

“Alas, my father was a smart negotiator,” Lidia said, making a good show of admiring the ruby ring on her finger, the stone as red as Irithys’s flame. “But enough about me.” She gestured to the hag, then to the sprite. “Irithys, Queen of the Sprites. Hilde, Grand Hag of the Imperial Coven.”

“I know who you are,” Irithys said, her voice quiet with leashed rage. She now floated in the center of the orb, her body bloodred. “You put this collar on me.”

Hilde again smiled, wide enough to reveal her blackened gums. A lesser person would have cowered at that smile. “I had the honor of doing it to the little bitch who bore the crown before you, too.”

Hilde didn’t mean Irithys’s mother, who had never been queen at all. No, when the last Sprite Queen had died, the line had passed to a different branch of the family, with Irithys first to inherit.

A damned inheritance—she’d gained the title and a prison sentence in the same breath. Irithys had barely had her crown for a day before Rigelus had her brought into the dungeons.

Lidia said blandly, “Yes, Hilde. We all know how skilled you are. Athalar himself can thank you for his first halo. But let’s talk about why you chose to betray us.”

“I did no such thing.” Even with the gorsian shackles, a crackling sort of energy leaked from the hag.

Lidia sighed at the ceiling. “I do have appointments today, Hilde. Shall we speed this up?”

She gave no warning before tapping the top of Irithys’s crystal. It melted away to nothing, leaving only air between the hag and the Sprite Queen.

Irithys didn’t move. Didn’t try to run or erupt. She just stood there like a living, burning ruby. As if being free of the crystal after all these years—

Lidia shut down the thought, her voice as dead as her eyes as she said, “Let’s see how motivational you can be, Your Majesty.”

Hilde glared daggers, but didn’t cower or tremble.

Yet Irithys turned to Lidia, hair swirling above her. “No.”

Lidia arched a brow. “No?”

Across the table, Hilde was still bristling—but listening carefully.

Irithys said boldly, unafraid, “No.”

“It wasn’t a request.” Lidia nodded to the hag. “Burn her hand.”

Hilde snatched her gnarled hands off the table. As if that could save her.

Irithys’s chin lifted. “I may be your captive, but I do not have to obey you.”

“Hilde is a traitor to the Republic—”

“These are lies,” Hilde interrupted.

“Your pity is wasted on her,” Lidia went on.

“It is not pity,” Irithys said, ruby flame darkening to a color like rich wine. “It is honor. There is none in attacking a person who cannot fight back, enemy or no.”

Lidia’s upper lip curled back from her teeth. “Burn. Her.”

Irithys glowed a violet blue, like hottest flame. “No.”

Hilde let out a caw of laughter.

Lidia said with a calm that usually made enemies start begging, “I will ask you one more time—”

“And I will tell you a thousand more times: no. On my honor, no.”

“You have no honor down here. It means nothing in this place.”

“Honor is all I have,” Irithys said, the heat of her indigo flames strong enough to warm Lidia’s chilled hands. “Honor, and my name. I will not sully or yield them. No matter what my enemy has done. Or what you threaten me with, Hind.”

Lidia held the sprite’s blazing stare and found only unbreaking, unrelenting will there.