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

“You bastard,” Hunt breathed. “I did what you asked.”

Rigelus strode for the stairs that led out of the chamber. “Had you agreed to give me your lightning from the start, both of your companions would have been spared. But since you made me go to all that effort … I think you need to learn the consequences of your defiance, however short-lived it was.”

Baxian seethed, “He’ll never stop defying you—and neither will we, asshole.”

It meant more than it should have that the Helhound spoke up for him. And also made it worse.

Last time he’d been here, he’d been alone. He’d had only the screams of soldiers to endure. His guilt had devoured him, but it was different than this. Than having to be here with two brothers and bear their suffering along with his own.

Being alone would have been better. So much better.

Rigelus knew it, too. It was why he’d waited this long to come down here, giving Hunt time to comprehend the bind he was in.

The Bright Hand ascended the steps with feline grace. “We shall see what Athalar is willing to give up when it really comes down to it. Where even the Umbra Mortis draws the line.”



* * *



Lidia’s time had run out. If she was to act, it had to be now. There was no margin for error. She needed the prisoners ready—in whatever way she could manage.

But she’d gotten no farther than two steps into the dungeon when the breath whooshed from her body at the sight of the stump where Ruhn’s hand should have been.

The prince hung, unconscious, from his chains. Athalar and Baxian were out, too. All three were caked in blood.

Pollux and the Hawk were panting, smiling like fiends. “You missed the fun, Lidia,” the Hawk said, and held up—

Held up—

That broad, tattooed hand—Ruhn’s hand—had touched her. On that mental plane, soul to soul, those hands had caressed her, gentle and loving.

“Well done,” she managed, though she screamed inside. Clawed at the walls of her being and shrieked with fury. “Which one of you claimed the prize?”

“Baxian, actually,” the Hammer said, chuckling. “Chewed it off like the dog he is in an attempt to get free.”

Lidia made herself turn. Look at the Helhound like she was impressed. Some small part of her was. But the pain Ruhn had endured …

She put a hand to her stomach, and her wince wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Lidia?” the Hawk asked, white wings rustling.

“Her cycle,” Pollux answered for her, disdain coating his voice.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, to make the show complete. The Hawk and Pollux swapped looks, as if to say, Females. She pulled a velvet case from an interior pocket of her uniform jacket. When she flicked it open, firstlight glowed from the two syringes strapped within.

“What’s that?” The Hawk stalked a step closer, peering at the needles.

Lidia made herself smirk at him, then at Pollux. “It seems a shame to me that Athalar and the Helhound’s wings are no longer able to be … targeted. I thought we’d bring them back into play.”

A shot of a medwitch healing potion, laced with firstlight, would regrow their wings within a day or two, even under the repressive power of the gorsian shackles. If she’d known about Ruhn’s hand, she would have brought three, but now there would be no way to casually explain the need for it, not without drawing too much attention.

And she needed Athalar and Baxian able to fly.

Pollux smiled. “Clever, Lidia.” He jerked his chin toward the unconscious angels. “Do it.”

She didn’t need the Hammer’s permission, but she didn’t protest. “Wait until they’re fully regrown,” she warned Pollux and the Hawk. “Let them savor the hope of having their wings again before you find some interesting way to remove them anew.”

Athalar and Baxian were too deeply unconscious to even feel the prick of the needle at the center of their spines. Firstlight glowed along their backs, stretching like shining roots toward the stumps of their wings. The wounds in between healed over slowly, but she’d bade the medwitch who’d crafted the potion to weave a spell in it to target the wings specifically. If she’d healed them both completely, it would have been too suspicious.

Slowly, before her eyes, the stumps on their backs began to rebuild, flesh and sinew and bone creeping together, multiplying.

Lidia turned from the gruesome sight. She could only pray they’d be healed in time.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said to Pollux and the Hawk, striding to the rack.

“I thought you were here to heal them.” The Hawk glanced between her and the angels.

“Only the wings,” Lidia said. “Why not play with other parts while they mend?”

The Hammer smiled. “Can I watch?”

“No.”

Ruhn stirred, groaning softly, and it was all she could do to keep from pulling one of the long blades from the rack and plunging it through Pollux’s gut.

“You know how I like to watch,” Pollux purred, and the Hawk chuckled. What an utter waste of life. He’d stood by while the Hammer committed his bloody atrocities. Had delighted in watching during those years with Sandriel, too.

The Malleus’s eyes gleamed with naked lust. “Why don’t you put on a show for us?”

“Get out,” she said, unamused. Pollux might pretend he had control, but he knew who the Asteri favored. Her orders were not to be ignored. “I don’t need distractions.”

The Hawk snickered, but obeyed, stalking out. A true minion, through and through.

The Hammer, however, walked over to her. With a lover’s gentleness, he put a hand on the side of her neck. And then squeezed tight enough to bruise as he said against her mouth, “I’ll fuck that disrespect out of you, Lidia. Bloody cunt or not.”

Then he was striding up the steps, wings glowing with his wrath. He slammed the door behind him.

Lidia waited, listening. When she was convinced they were both gone, she pulled the lever that sent the prisoners crashing to the floor and rushed to where Ruhn lay sprawled.

“Get up.” She kept her voice hard, cold. But the prince opened his beautiful blue eyes.

She scanned his face. Ruhn. No one answered. As if pain had carved him up and hollowed him out. Ruhn, listen to me.

You’re dead to me, he’d said. It seemed he’d killed the connection between them, too. But Lidia still cast her thoughts toward his mind.

Ruhn, I don’t have much time. I managed to make contact with people who can help get you out of here, but the Harpy is somehow about to be resurrected, and once she is, the truth will come out. If my plan’s to go off without a hitch, if you are to survive, you need to listen—

Ruhn only closed his eyes and didn’t open them again.



* * *



Silence, heavy and unbearable, filled the chamber beneath the Prison. Bryce stared at the eight-pointed star, revulsion coursing through her in an oily slide.

“They were horrible,” she rasped. “Self-serving, reckless monsters.”

“Silene and Helena did shut the portal,” Nesta countered carefully.

Bryce’s gaze snapped to the female. “Only after they opened it again—to escape. It was open because they wanted to run. And they left all those people behind. They could have held it open a little longer, could have saved them. But Silene chose herself. She’s a fucking disgrace.”

“Surely their fate at Pelias’s hands,” Azriel said, “would explain some of their motivation in acting quickly.”

Bryce pointed to the place where Silene had stood. “That fucking bitch locked out children to save herself and then tried to justify it.”

It was no different than what the Valbaran Fae had done this spring in Crescent City—locking the innocents out of their villas while they cowered inside, protected by their wards.

“What did you …,” Nesta began, a shade gently. “What was it that you expected to find here?”