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

“You’ve got your cushy villa,” Ruhn said with unusual harshness. “You’ll be fine.”

Sathia shook her head again, gaze fixing on her brother. “It’s not safe because of you.”

“What?” Flynn blurted.

“Word has spread,” Morven said from his antler-and-shadow throne, “of your assistance in that one’s”—a nod toward Ruhn—“escape. Along with the escape of two other enemies of the empire.” A flick of his cold eyes to Baxian and Hunt, who glared back with impressive menace. “The entire Hawthorne family is now wanted by the Asteri for questioning.”

“They want to kill us to punish you,” Sathia burst out, pointing a damning finger at Flynn. “We had to leave in the middle of the night, when we got an alert that the 33rd was coming to bring us in. These clothes are the only ones I have with me.”

“What a sacrifice for you,” Flynn sneered. But Bryce caught the guilt darkening his eyes. Declan had already pulled out his phone, no doubt to check on his family and Marc—

“There’s no reception here, thanks to the mists,” Sathia said to Declan.

The male’s face paled, and he muttered, “I forgot.”

But Sathia added quietly, “I put in a call to your parents before we left. They said they’d get in touch with your boyfriend, too.”

Flynn gaped at her, but Declan bowed his head in thanks.

“What?” Sathia glared at her brother. “You think I’m that much of a monster?”

Flynn gave her another sneer that said, Yes, and Bryce stepped in to spare everyone from their bickering. “Okay,” she said to Morven, “so you’re insisting that Flynn’s sister marry one of … these creeps?” Bryce gestured to the Murder Twins holding Sathia, making sure that mental wall of starlight was still intact. She wasn’t letting their minds anywhere near hers.

“Seamus and Duncan are lords of the Fae,” Morven snapped at Bryce. “You will address them with a female’s proper tone of deference.”

For fuck’s sake. “You didn’t answer my question,” Bryce said. Sathia’s expression had become downright panicked. “You’re really forcing her into marriage or deporting her to be killed by the Asteri?”

Morven twirled a shadow around one of his long, broad fingers. “Her father has agreed it is in her best interest to wed. And has agreed that should she refuse, she shall be sent back to Lunathion.” He clenched his fist, crushing the shadow within. “For too long, she has refused any males he has presented to her for marriage. Her father’s patience has come to an end, and he has begged me to oversee this matter.”

“Dad of the year,” Baxian growled.

Bryce grunted her agreement.

Sathia said with impressive coldness, “It is within my rights to refuse any suitor presented to me.”

Morven gave her a look dripping with distaste. “It is, girl. Just as it is within your father’s rights to disown you for failing in your duty to continue the family bloodline.”

Bryce grumbled, “So what’s the point of giving females refusal rights at all if you punish them for it?”

“This isn’t our problem,” Flynn grumbled, and even Ruhn whirled to him in shock. “We didn’t come here to deal with this.”

“So you’re not here to beg asylum as well?” Morven asked, propping his chin on a fist.

“No,” Hunt growled, stepping forward, wings flaring. “We’re not.” He glanced to Bryce, motioning her forward again.

Swapping a look with Ruhn that said they’d deal with the issue of Sathia later, Bryce set aside her concern and lifted her chin as she stepped to Hunt’s side. “I’m here to access the Avallen Archives and the Cave of Princes.”

“Access denied,” Morven said.

“You mistake me,” Bryce said in that voice that brooked no argument. “I wasn’t asking your permission.” The star on her chest began to glow, illuminating her T-shirt and athletic jacket. “As a Starborn Princess, no part of Avallen is denied to me.”

“I shall decide who is worthy of accessing my realm,” Morven snarled.

“The starlight says otherwise,” Bryce said. She drew the Starsword—and the dagger. “And so do these.”

As if their sheaths had kept their power contained, the naked metal now throbbed against her palm, up her arms, tugging toward each other so violently it took all her strength to keep them apart.

Morven paled. Even his shadows receded. “What is that in your left hand?” Even the Murder Twins and Sathia had their eyes trained on her, as if they couldn’t look away.

“Some major prophecy fulfillment,” Bryce said, hoping to Hel she was hiding the tremble in her arms from keeping the black blades steady, from ignoring that instinct murmuring to her to bring them together, not keep them apart.

“Where did you get that knife?” Morven hissed.

“So you know what it is, then?” Bryce said.

“Yes,” he seethed. “I can feel its power.”

“Well, that makes it easier,” Bryce said. She sheathed both weapons. Mercifully, the pulling eased with the action. “Less explaining for me.” She nodded to Morven, and he glowered. “I’ll be in and out of here before you know it.”

His shadows returned, darkening the air behind his antler-throne until it seemed Morven sat before a void. “Females are forbidden in both the Avallen Archives and the Cave of Princes.”

“I don’t really care,” Bryce said.

“You spit on our sacred traditions.”

“Get over it.”

Morven’s nostrils flared. “I’ll remind you, girl, that one word from me and the Asteri will have you in their grasp.”

“You’d have to open the mists to them first,” Bryce countered. “And it seems like you’ve worked really hard not to do that—or give them a reason to come here at all.”

“You can be removed by guards.”

Bryce gestured to Hunt, then Baxian, then the others. “My own guards might make that difficult.”

“This is my kingdom—”

“I’m not challenging that. I just want to look through your archives. A few days, then we’ll all be out of your hair.” She pulled the Autumn King’s notebook from her jacket. “I’ll even sweeten the deal: Here’s my sire’s private journal. Well, his most current one. All his recent scheming, written down. It’s pretty stupid, if you ask me. Dear Diary, today I made a list of all my enemies and how I plan to kill them. It’s so hard being king—I wish I had a friend!”

She grinned as Morven’s eyes narrowed on the leather-bound notebook, and she flashed him the first page, where her father’s distinctive handwriting was visible. He’d know it well, as the two old losers communicated mostly through written letters, since Avallen had no computers. “You let us stay here and it’s yours when we leave.”

Morven’s fingers drummed on the arm of his throne. Fish on a line.

But he said, shadows lightening at last, “Your presence here threatens to bring the Asteri’s wrath upon me.”

Bryce considered, blinking. “Well, it seems you’ve got no problem harboring fugitives, if you’re letting in Flynn’s parents.”

He glared, pure darkness in his eyes.

Bryce went on, “I mean, you could probably make up for Cormac’s dishonor by selling us out to the Asteri … but if you hand us over, you’d have to turn in Flynn’s parents and the other nobles, too. And I doubt it’d win you any points with your own people if you betrayed some fancy-ass nobles.” She crossed her arms. “You’re in a real pickle, huh?”

Morven tapped his booted foot on the ground.

“It’s super hard,” Bryce commiserated, “to try to play both sides, isn’t it?”

“I am not playing either side,” Morven said. “I am loyal to the Asteri.”

“Then open the mists—invite them here. Let’s have them over for brunch.”

Morven’s silence was damning.

Bryce smiled. “I thought so.” She nodded to Sathia. “One more thing: she doesn’t marry anyone, and she comes with us.”