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

by Sarah J. Maas

The Hind knelt before her undying masters and contemplated how it would feel to tear out their throats. Around her own throat, a silver torque lay cool and heavy. It never warmed against her skin. As if the taken lives it symbolized wanted her to endure death’s icy grip as well.

But inside him, beyond that sea of pain and despair, Bryce was the entirety of his world. His mate. His wife. His princess. Prince Hunt Athalar Danaan. He would have hated the last name were it not for the fact that it was a marker of her ownership over his soul, his heart.

Across the room, the thing in the shadows moved. Just slightly. Like it had crooked a finger at him. Death. That was the thing in the shadows. And now it beckoned.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel began—but not to Bryce. Dread paled his golden skin. “Nesta—” Something metallic gleamed like sunshine in Nesta’s hand. A mask. “Nesta,” Azriel warned, panic sharpening his voice, but too late. She closed her eyes and shoved it onto her face. A strange, cold breeze swept through the tunnel.

“Cassian’s waiting for you, Nesta,” Azriel said—tone gentling. “Take off the Mask.” Nesta stayed silent, Ataraxia ready in her hand. One swipe, and Azriel would be dead. “He’s waiting for you at the House of Wind,” Azriel went on. “At home.” Another blink from Nesta. The silver fire banked a little.

“Gwyn and Emerie are waiting,” Azriel pushed. “And Feyre and Elain.” The silver flame flared at that. Then Azriel said, “Nyx is waiting, too.” The silver flame went out entirely. The Mask fell from Nesta’s face, clattering on the stone.

I couldn’t even tell you how the flashlight in the phone works.” To demonstrate, she hit the button and the cave illuminated, the battle scenes and suffering on the walls around them even more stark. Azriel hissed from up ahead, whirling their way with his eyes shielded, and Bryce quickly turned it off.

LOL

But my mother, Theia, used the time she served the Daglan to learn all she could about their instruments of conquest. The Dread Trove, we called it in secret. The Mask, the Harp, the Crown, and the Horn.

He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then—a distant ancestor, maybe.

“I want to see this research myself.” “It is on Avallen, and females are not allowed beyond the lobby of the archives.” “Yeah, our periods would probably get all over the books.”

LMAO