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

Jesiba shrugged. “The matter of the sprites and the dragon has been settled between us.”

“Do not toy with me, Jesiba,” the Astronomer snapped. “We both know he took more than those firelings.”

Ithan stepped up. His hands grew sweaty against the sleek wood and metal of the rifle. “A tank is no place for a wolf.” Or anyone, he thought. “And besides, she wasn’t yours to begin with. She had no slave mark.”

“Her father sold her to me. It was an unofficial passing of ownership.”

“She was a child, and you had no right—”

Ithan had killed her. He had no right to speak of her like he wasn’t as bad as this man before him—

“You are a thief, wolf, and I demand payment! I demand her returned to me!”

Words were suddenly impossible. Ithan couldn’t speak.

But a lovely, lilting female voice said from behind the crowd, “The Fendyr heir shall never again be yours, Astronomer.”

The crowd hissed, and parted to reveal Queen Hypaxia Enador walking into the chamber, robes floating behind her on a phantom wind.

From the corner of his eye, Ithan caught Jesiba’s smirk. “Hypaxia,” the sorceress said. “Just the necromancer I was looking for.”





45


That Jesiba was able to clear the crowd without so much as a word was testament to her grip on this place, this House.

Ithan found himself torn between looking at Hypaxia and the Astronomer—and avoiding both of their gazes.

The Astronomer waited until the crowd had left before saying to the witch-queen, “If you know where the wolf is and withhold that information, then the law says you are—”

“No law applies here,” Hypaxia cut in, “as the Fendyr heir was not a legal slave. Just as you said.” Gods, Ithan wished he had one fraction of her steadiness, that serene intelligence. Hypaxia went on, “So there was nothing for Ithan Holstrom to steal. He merely allowed a free civitas to make a choice about whether to remain in that wretched tank … or to leave.”

And then he’d killed her.

Jesiba was giving him a warning look, as if to say, Do not fucking breathe a word about that. Ithan returned her a look, as if to say, Do you think I’m that dumb?

She glanced pointedly at his CCU SUNBALL T-shirt.

He rolled his eyes and turned to the witch-queen facing off against the Astronomer.

“That wolf cost me untold sums of gold. The loss of one mystic—”

“I’ll pay it,” Ithan said hoarsely. His parents had made some wise investments before their deaths. He had more money than he knew what to do with.

“I require ten million gold marks.”

Ithan burst out coughing. He was well off, but—

“Paid,” Jesiba said coolly.

Ithan whirled to her, but the sorceress was smiling blandly at the Astronomer. “Add it to my monthly tab.”

The Astronomer glared at her, then at Ithan, and finally at Hypaxia, who looked at him with icy disdain. But he only spat on the ground and stalked out, long stringy hair flowing behind him.

In the silence, Jesiba faced Hypaxia and said, “I called you days ago and told you to come immediately. Is your broom not working?”

Ithan whirled on Jesiba. “This is the necromancer you had in mind?”

Honestly, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it himself. He’d just worked with her, for fuck’s sake, when they’d tried to conjure Connor at the Autumn Equinox. Maybe because it hadn’t worked and the Under-King had arrived instead, he’d written her off, but—

“Hypaxia’s father was the finest necromancer I’ve ever known,” Jesiba said, crossing her arms. “She has his gift. If there’s anyone to trust with your task, Holstrom, it’s her.”

Hypaxia’s brows lifted in faint surprise—as if the praise was unusual. But she said to Jesiba, “We should talk in your office.”

“Why?”

Hypaxia seemed to debate whether to answer, but finally said, “You want to know what delayed me these days? What I feared this fall has come to pass. Morganthia Dragas and her coven have staged a coup in the name of what they consider the preservation of witchkind’s old ways. I am Queen of the Valbaran Witches no longer.” She touched her breast, where her usual golden pin of Cthona was broken in two. “To escape their executioners, I have sworn fealty to the House of Flame and Shadow.”



* * *



Lidia had let Renki decide on the place for this early-morning meeting. Somewhere neutral, somewhere private, somewhere “chill,” as the mer male had described it.

Lidia wished she had some chill herself as she sat on the couch in the quiet student rec area—Director Kagani had closed it to everyone else for an hour—and looked at her sons. They sat on the opposite couch, which was stained and sagging, befitting a student lounge.

Davit had been called away for work late last night, so only Renki had come. The male now sat at the beverage counter on the opposite end of the room. Giving them space. An illusion of privacy.

She wished he’d sat with them.

There was a good chance Morven wouldn’t let them leave Avallen alive. She’d needed to see her boys before she left, just one more time, but that didn’t mean this was comfortable.

Ace leaned back against the cushions, arms crossed, staring at the TV blasting sunball highlights above the foosball table. But Brann surveyed her frankly, gaze bright with his keen intellect and fighting nature. A warrior indeed. He said without preamble, “Why did you want to meet us so early?”

Lidia subtly wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her tactical bodysuit. She knew both boys marked the motion. “I thought I might make myself available to you, in case you had any questions about me. My past.”

She’d faced down horrors without flinching, and yet this—this had her heart thundering.

Brann’s mouth twisted to the side as he thought about it. Without taking his eyes off the TV, Actaeon said, “It’s because she’s leaving.”

Too smart for his own good. Lidia looked at him, though Ace wouldn’t acknowledge her, and said, “Yes. Today.”

Brann glanced between them. “Where?”

Ace answered before she could. “She’s not going to tell you. Don’t bother asking. She doesn’t know what the word honesty means.”

Lidia clenched her jaw. “I wish I could tell you. But our mission relies on secrecy.”

Ace slid his eyes to her then. “And us kids will go blabbing your location to everyone, right?”

Gods help her. “I wish I could tell you,” she repeated.

Brann asked, voice thick, “Are you coming back?”

Lidia said frankly, “I hope so.”

Actaeon returned to the TV. “You’ve managed to slither out of every scrape so far. I don’t see why this would be any different.”

The words hit like a blow to some soft, unguarded part of her.

Brann gave his twin a warning glare. “Come on, Ace.” Clearly, they’d had some sort of conversation beforehand. About how they’d behave.

And clearly, Ace hated her.

Fine. She could live with that. He was safe, and loved. For that, she could endure his resentment.

“We’re at war,” Lidia told them. “And it’s about to get uglier. I cannot tell you where I am going, but I can tell you I may not come back. Every time I venture out, especially now that my enemies know the truth about me, there is a good chance I will not return.”

Ace snapped, “Are we supposed to feel bad and cry for our mommy?”

It took all her will not to break down. Mustering that coolness she’d perfected over the years, she said, “You claimed I didn’t know what honesty was a moment ago. Well, I’m giving it to you. If you interpret this as manipulation, I cannot help that. But I wanted to see you—both of you—before I left today. To say goodbye.”

Brann again glanced between them. Then said, “I guess my biggest question is why. Why you left us here.”