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

by Sarah J. Maas

“It is in our history, Rhysand,” Amren said gravely. “But the Asteri were not known by that name. Here, they were called the Daglan.”

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.”

Hunt’s arms had gone numb, shoulders popping out of their sockets from trying to support the weight of their bodies. He mustered his energy, his focus, enough to say to Baxian, “How … how you doing?” Baxian let out a wet cough. “Great.” Next to Hunt, Ruhn grunted. It might have been a laugh. Their only options were screaming and sobbing, or laughing at this giant fucking disaster. Indeed, Ruhn said, “Wanna … hear a … joke?” The prince didn’t wait for a reply before he continued, “Two angels … and a Fae Prince … walk into … a dungeon …”

The Hawk’s gaze lingered on Hunt. Nothing of life, of joy, lay in those eyes. “Athalar.” Hunt nodded to the male in greeting. “Asshole.”

Ruhn, please. The raft groaned, and he knew she was reaching for him again. But he couldn’t bear that touch, the pleading in her voice, the emotion that no one else in the world but him had ever heard from the Hind. So Ruhn said, Fuck your excuses. And rolled off that mental raft to let the sea of pain drown him.

Bryce brushed the dust and rock off her back, her ass. Her ego.

The last carving before the river had been one of transition: a Fae King and Queen seated on thrones, a mountain—different from the one with the palace atop it—behind them with three stars rising above it. A different kingdom, then. Some ancient High Lord and Lady, Nesta had suggested before approaching the river.

“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.

Azriel said softly, voice tinged with pain, “She looks like Rhysand’s sister.”

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.

They were Fae like us, but not. The ears, the grace, the strength were identical, but they were shape-shifters, all of them. Each capable of turning into an animal. And each, even in their humanoid body, equipped with elongated canine teeth.

The image blurred, and there she was again. That old, weary face. I hope the Mother will forgive me, Silene said, and the hologram dissolved. “Well, I fucking don’t,” Bryce spat, and flipped off the place where Silene had stood.

“You are no creator of mine,” Azriel said coldly. The Starsword gleamed in his other hand. If they bothered him, if they called to him, he didn’t let on. Neither hand so much as twitched. The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?” The words must have meant something to Azriel. The warrior let out a small noise of shock.

Hunt squinted as he lowered his wing and met the shithead’s eyes. “Fuck you.” Like Hel would these assholes make him beg and grovel—either for his own life or Ruhn’s. Lidia said mildly, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Athalar.” Hunt looked, but not fast enough. The Hawk certainly didn’t look fast enough. And Hunt knew he’d treasure this moment forever: the moment when Lidia Cervos pulled out her gun and fired it right between the Hawk’s eyes.

She shook her head, disgust chasing away any trace of appetite. “I don’t get it—get you.” “What is there to get? I am a king. Kings do not need to explain themselves.” “Fathers do.”

Bryce stared at the male before her for a long moment. Glanced down the steps to the lower level—toward his study. “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.”

She met Hunt’s eyes, registering the love and pain there, and said quietly, “You’re my home, Hunt. Our love spans across stars and worlds, remember?” She smiled slightly. “I’ll always find you.”

Lidia met Renki’s gaze. The dominance and protectiveness in it. She still saw the glimmer of pleading beneath it. Please don’t take my sons away from me.

Lidia went on, “Would you have listened if I had no backstory other than realizing what was right and wanting to fight for it? Of doing whatever it took to make sure that good prevailed against tyranny? Or does my being a mother somehow make my choices more palatable to you?” “Most dudes run when they find out the female they’re into has kids.” Her eyes flickered with cold fire. “That’s male strength for you.” “You seemed to like my strength plenty, sweetheart.” She snorted, turning back toward her door. Dismissing him. His temper coiled. “So what’s the sob story, Lidia?” Slowly, she looked back, her face a mask of utter contempt, and said before she shut the door in his face, “You don’t deserve to hear it.”

“Oh boy,” Bryce said, sighing at the ceiling. She whirled to their group. “Okay, let’s do a head count. If you’re disowned, disgraced, or both, raise your hand.” Tharion, Baxian, Lidia, Hunt, and Ruhn raised their hands. Bryce surveyed Flynn and Dec, both still in their usual black jeans and T-shirts, and sighed again. She gestured expansively, giving them the floor.

Apollion lifted a hand. Pure, sizzling lightning danced around it, arcing out to meet Hunt’s. “Welcome, son,” said the Prince of the Pit.

“Fine,” Hunt cut in. “Great, we’re protected.” He eyed the Prince of the Pit. His very bones shook, but he forced himself past his fear, his dread. “What the fuck did you mean by calling me son?” Thanatos scoffed. “You are no son of his.” He yanked off his war helmet, cradling it under an arm. “If anything, you are mine.” Hunt’s knees buckled. “

“The black crowns were collars in Hel,” Thanatos answered darkly. His powerful body seemed primed to leap across that pit to attack. Hunt monitored his every breath. “Spells, crafted by the Asteri to enslave us. They were a binding, one the Asteri adapted in their next war—upon Midgard.” Hunt turned to Aidas. “You seemed surprised to see one on me that first time we met. Why?” But before Aidas could begin, Apollion answered, “Because the Princes of Hel cannot be contained by the black crowns. The Asteri learned that—it was their downfall. As you were made by Hel’s princes, it should not be able to hold you.” Made by them? By these fuckers?

Hunt had no idea what to say, what to do as everything in his life swirled and diluted, his heartbeat ratcheting up to a thunderous beat. “I—I don’t …” “Start talking,” Bryce snapped at Apollion, scooting her chair an inch or two closer to Hunt’s. Not from fear, Hunt knew—but from solidarity. It settled something in him, soothed a jagged edge. “Hunt’s mother was an angel.” His mother’s loving, tired face flashed before Hunt’s eyes, twisting his heart. “She was,” Apollion said, and the way he smiled … White rage blinded every one of Hunt’s senses. “Did you dare—” “She was not ill used,” Aidas said, holding up an elegant hand. “We might command nightmares, but we are not monsters.”

“If you find that final piece of Theia’s power … if the cost of uniting the sword and knife is too much, Bryce Quinlan, then don’t do it. Choose life.” He glanced to Hunt. “Choose each other. I have lived with the alternative for millennia—the loss never gets easier to bear.”

She was already whole. What she had—who she was … it was enough. She’d always been enough to take on these bastards, power or no power. Starborn crap or no. She was enough.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” her father snarled, and plunged his burning sword toward her exposed heart. The Autumn King only made it halfway before light burst from his chest. Hunt’s lightning had— No. It wasn’t Hunt’s lightning that shone through the Autumn King’s rib cage. It was the Starsword. And it was Ruhn wielding it, standing behind him. Ruhn, who had driven the sword right through their father’s cold heart.

Ruhn said into his mind, into all their minds, I lied about what the Oracle said to me. His father’s eyes flared with shock at Ruhn’s voice in his head, the secret his son had kept all these years. Ruhn didn’t care what Morven made of it, didn’t even bother to look at the Stag King. Bryce and Athalar could handle the shadows, if Morven was dumb enough to attack. So Ruhn stared into his father’s hateful face and said, The Oracle didn’t tell me that I would be a fair and just king. She told me that the royal bloodline would end with me. He had the sense that his friends were watching with wide eyes. But he only had words for the pathetic male before him. I thought it meant your bloodline. Ruhn lifted the bloodied Starsword. Flame simmered along his father’s body, limning his powerful form. But Ruhn was no longer a cowering boy, inking himself with tattoos to hide the scarring. I was wrong. I think the Oracle meant all of them, Ruhn went on, mind-to-mind. The male lines. The Starborn Princes included—all you fucks who have corrupted and stolen and never once apologized for it. The entire system. This bullshit of crowns and inheritance. His father’s sneering voice filled his mind. You’re a spoiled, ungrateful brat who never deserved to carry my crown— I don’t want it, Ruhn snapped, and shut down the bridge between their minds that allowed his father to speak. He’d had enough of listening to this male. Blood trickled from his father’s lips as his Vanir body sought to heal him—t...

A serene peace bloomed in him. I always assumed the Oracle’s prophecy meant that I would die. He let his kernel of starlight flicker down the blade, an answer to Bryce’s beckoning blaze. One last time. But I am going to live, he said to his father. And I am going to live well—without you.

“If we win,” Bryce said quietly, “this new world will be a fair one. No more hierarchies and bullshit.” The very things Hunt had fought for. That he and the Fallen had suffered for. “But right now,” Bryce said, “I’m Queen of the Valbaran Fae.” She nodded to the Autumn King’s body cooling on the ground, then smirked at Morven. “And of Avallen.”

“As I was saying,” Bryce drawled, “for the moment, I’m queen. I’m judge, jury …” Bryce looked to Sathia, still shaken and wide-eyed from the twins’ attack—yet unafraid. Unbroken, despite what the males in her life, what this male, had tried to do to her. So Bryce peered down at Morven and finished sweetly, “And I’m your motherfucking executioner.” The King of Avallen was still blazing with hate when Bryce slid Truth-Teller into his heart.

“Bright,” she murmured. Then looked at Athalar, scanning his face. “Light it up,” she whispered. As if it was the answer to everything.

Bryce didn’t know when she started crying, only that the next moment Ruhn was there, his arms around her, and they were both sobbing.

Ruhn pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. Tears ran down his face. She couldn’t stop crying—crying and laughing—with all that flowed from her heart. Her brother only pressed a kiss to her brow and said, “Long live the queen.”

His throat worked for a moment. “I’m some weird demonic test-tube baby.” “Maybe that’s where you came from, Hunt,” she said, offering him a gentle smile, “but it’s not who you are—who you became.”

Her teeth grazed over his too-hot skin, and he writhed against the hand she still had on him, the crackling hay so gods-damned loud— “Please don’t fuck right next to us,” Flynn muttered from a few feet away. “Ugh,” Bryce called from across the stables. “Really?” Ruhn squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his arousal. But Lidia laughed quietly. “Sorry.” “Pervs,” Declan muttered, hay crinkling as he turned over.

The old wolf let out a heavy sigh. “Danika might have led us back to what we were before we allowed ourselves to be collared by the Asteri. I have long believed that she was killed for this goal—by the powers who wish the status quo to remain in place.” The Prime looked down at the wolf kneeling at his feet. “But it must be broken.” He extended the sword to Ithan. “Ithan Holstrom is my heir.”

“I offered to make you Alpha once, Ithan Holstrom. I now offer to make you Prime. Don’t walk away from it.” Ithan didn’t reach for the sword. “I—” He didn’t get the chance to finish his refusal. One moment, he was staring at the sword. The next, Sabine had snatched it from her father’s hands. She plunged it through the Prime’s ancient face.

“This sword,” Sabine panted, brandishing it, “is mine. The title is mine.” Ithan shifted, so fast even Sabine blinked. Make your brother proud. Sabine swung the sword as Ithan charged, a powerful blow that would cleave even his wolf’s skull in two. Ithan leapt straight at the blade. His jaws closed around it. Sabine’s eyes flared with shock as Ithan bit down, tasting metal. And shattered the Fendyr sword between his teeth.

Ithan tipped his wolf’s head to the sky and loosed a howl of his own. Triumph and pain and mourning. Make your brother proud. And as his howl finished echoing, he could have sworn he heard a male wolf’s cry float up from the Bone Quarter itself.

A female with golden-brown hair sat in an armchair before a fireplace on the other side of it. All that darkness was the starry night beyond her windows. And her face was a portrait of pure shock as Bryce lifted a hand in greeting and said, “Hello, Nesta.”

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.”

She took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” she whispered to him, and his eyes flickered in recognition. He’d said the same thing to her once—that day she’d had the kristallos venom removed from her leg. He squeezed her hand back. “Let’s light it up.”