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

“She saw it,” Ithan said. “She came here this spring, asking Ruhn for protection from Morganthia. I guarded her—”

“Protection,” Jesiba snapped. “Guarding. Not acting. She knew Morganthia was a threat and chose to wait for her to attack rather than strike her own blow against her. Rather than find allies, she played medwitch in the city, made love to that Archangel. Rather than gather power, she ran to a Fae Prince and a wolf to shield her.” She shook her head again. “Hecuba meant to protect her all these years by keeping her isolated from the corrupt covens. She hobbled her in the process.” Jesiba crossed her arms and stared at nothing, fury and disdain tightening her face.

Ithan dared ask, “Why did you defect from the witches?”

“I didn’t like the direction they were headed.”

“Was this when Hecuba was queen?”

“Long before that. The witches have been in decline for generations. A magical and moral rot.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair. “Na?ve girl,” Jesiba murmured to herself.

“What sort of oaths does Hypaxia need to swear at the Black Dock before sunrise?”

“Old ones.”

“That’s not—”

“The mysteries of the House of Flame and Shadow are not for you to know.”

“Will Hypaxia … change?”

“No. Her oaths are nothing like those the Reapers swear. The establishment of allegiance is a legal process, but one that must be honored as the Under-King has decreed.”

The Under-King … whom Jesiba served as second in command. “I didn’t know you were so important here.”

“I’m flattered. And before you ask, no, Quinlan isn’t aware. People in this House don’t talk. But the City Heads know.”

“And the Astronomer … he knows.” She nodded. “What’s your deal with him? You said you have a monthly bill.” He blew out a breath. “Fuck, I can’t pay you all that money—”

“It’s a tax write-off for the House,” Jesiba said, waving a hand. “And I’m growing tired of all these questions from you. You’re asking things you have no right to know.”

“Then stop telling me so much.”

She smirked. “You’re not as boring as you seem.”

“I’m flattered,” he echoed.

Jesiba laughed quietly. And then said, “A few centuries after Apollion changed me, he heard whispers that I had … powers. Being a lazy wretch, he sent his brother Aidas to investigate. And presumably to kill me if I was indeed a threat.”

She spoke the names of the demon princes like they were people she knew well.

“But Aidas found that I posed no threat, and discovered that I still had the library and remained defiant to his brother’s demands to reveal its so-called power. In the strange way of things, Aidas and I became friends, of a sort. We still are. I suppose it’s because we’re so used to each other now. It’s been … a long time.”

“So what did he report to Apollion?”

“That I was to be respected, but left alone.”

“And did Apollion listen?”

A half shrug. “He sends Aidas to check in every once in a while.”

“What does this have to do with the Astronomer?”

“I’ve paid the Astronomer for years now to look for a way to undo Apollion’s grip on my soul.”

Disgust roiled through him. “So you pay him and he does your bidding?”

“I pay him,” she said blandly, “but he also stands to benefit from any discovery.”

“Why?”

“He wants to find the answer so he might use it to become young himself. He is human—or used to be, before so much foul magic tainted his soul. He fears death more than anything. He stands to gain a great deal should he succeed in his search. I suppose we’re two miserable creatures feeding off each other.” She cut Ithan a look. “He might seem frail, but he’s slippery. He’ll be seeking other ways to fuck you over.”

He nodded to where he’d replaced the Godslayer Rifle on the wall. “Would you have given me the order to kill him today?”

“No,” Jesiba said. “The rifle was just a threat. I still need him.”

“I think scientists call it a symbiotic relationship.”

“Well, it’s one I’ve been building toward long before he came into existence.”

“So you’ve been using this creep and his hold on innocents—”

“You didn’t seem to have any qualms about using him when you went for information about your brother.”

The Astronomer must have told her about that visit. Ithan pressed on. “Can you … elaborate?” At her flat look, he added, “Please? Why did you even use the Astronomer in the first place?”

“I thought it was the cats who had a problem with curiosity.”

“Blame it on the part of me that chose to be a history major in college.”

Her lips curled upward, but she sighed at the ceiling and said, “In my own research over the millennia, I learned that dragon fire is one of the few things that can make a Prince of Hel balk.”

“You meant to use it against Apollion?” Ithan couldn’t help but gape at her sheer audacity.

She studied her manicured nails. “I thought it might be a good … negotiating tool.”

Ithan let out an impressed laugh. “Wow. So what happened?”

“Rumor spread in the city that the Astronomer had possession of a dragon. I sought him out and offered to buy Ariadne on the spot.” She crossed her arms again. “The bastard wouldn’t sell her, not for anything in the world. But I realized that day that I might have another opportunity on my hands: I could use his mystics to hunt in Hel for answers on how to free me, and have the mystics guarded by Ariadne while they did so.”

“But you said you wanted to wait to … not be young until the books were safe.”

“Yes. But when that time comes, I want the solution in hand.”

“Why?”

“So I don’t talk myself out of it.” He felt, more than saw, the weight of all those years bowing her shoulders. “You’re not like most wolves I’ve known.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” He honestly couldn’t tell.

She uncrossed her arms and drummed her fingers on the desk. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Ithan Holstrom, about the truth. Too much for me to delve into here and now.” Her fingers halted, and her gaze simmered with ancient pain and anger. “But it was the wolf packs who reached Parthos first. Who started the slaughter and burnings. It was the wolf packs, led by Asteri-bred bloodhounds, who hunted down my sisters. I’ve never forgotten that.”

Ithan’s stomach churned at the shameful history of his people, but he asked, “Bred?”

A wry smile. “The gift already existed amongst the wolves, but the Asteri encouraged it. Bred it into certain lines. They still do.”

“Like Danika.”

Jesiba’s fingers resumed their drumming. “The Fendyrs have been a … carefully cultivated line for the Asteri.”

“How so?”

She fixed her blazing eyes on him. This female had lived through all of Midgard’s Asteri history. He could hardly wrap his mind around it. “Didn’t you ever wonder why the Fendyrs are so dominant? Generation after generation?”

“Genetics.”

“Yes, genetics bred by the Asteri. Sabine and Mordoc were ordered to breed.”

“But Sabine took the title from her brother—”

“At whose urging? She’s an angry, small-minded female. Her brother was smarter, but clearly no male of worth, if he sold his daughter to the Astronomer. He was likely deemed unfit by the Asteri, who coaxed Sabine into challenging him. And when Sabine’s dominance won out, they made sure Mordoc was sent to produce a line of more … competent Fendyrs.”

“Well, Micah fucked that up for them.”

“And who do you think pulled Micah’s strings?”

Ithan was glad he was sitting. “You think the Asteri had Micah kill Danika? After all that trouble to breed her into existence?” Never mind that Connor and the Pack of Devils had been destroyed as a result of that scheming—