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

by Sarah J. Maas

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.

Oblivion beckoned, a sweet release Hunt had come to crave as much as Bryce’s body entwined with his.

“We’re a pack,” Ithan said to Tharion, Flynn, and Dec. “It’s what we do for each other.” None of them contradicted it. His heart strained.

“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.”

Baxian kept his eyes on the weights he’d been lifting. “I needed to get in here for a bit.” “Why?” “Bad thoughts” was all Baxian said.

To lose a mate was to lose half of your soul; to live without them was torture.

“Bet you’re wishing you’d learned to read,” Sathia trilled, striding for the catalog. “I can read!” Flynn sulked. Then mumbled, “It’s just boring.”

“Favorite food?” “Raspberry tarts.” He let out a laugh. “Really?” She frowned. “What’s wrong with that?” “Nothing,” he said, then added, “Mine’s cheese puffs.” She let out a hint of a laugh. But it faded as she said, “Why?” He ticked the reasons off on his fingers. “They’re crispy, they’re cheesy—”

“We might command nightmares, but we are not monsters.”

“This is no game, girl,” Thanatos snapped. Bryce leveled a cool look at the Prince of the Ravine. “I’m sick and tired of people using girl as an insult.”

None of what the Princes of Hel had said about him scared her. They hadn’t made Hunt’s soul. That was all hers, just as her own soul was his.

An otter in a bright yellow vest leapt onto the quay, dripping everywhere. It rose onto its hind legs in front of Tharion, whiskers twitching, spraying droplets of water. Sathia grinned. “Stop it,” Tharion muttered. “It only encourages them to be cuter.”

I love you. I fell in love with you in the depths of my soul, and it’s my soul that will find yours again in the next life.

It confirmed what Lidia had long guessed. Why she had named Brannon after the oldest legends from her family’s bloodline: of a Fae King from another world, fire in his veins, who had created stags with the power of flame to be his sacred guards.

Hunt did the only thing he could think to do. He slid the Mask onto his face. To escape death, he’d don its trappings. The Umbra Mortis in truth. The Mask ripped apart his soul.

The friends they’d made were what mattered in the end. Not the enemies.

Through love, all is possible.

“Thank you. I never knew that Quinlan … that she meant anything to you.” Jesiba’s brows rose, and a bit of the prickly sorceress he knew returned. “Of course she does. Do you know how hard it is to find a competent assistant?”

“It took their power. But what is eternal, what is made of love … that can never be destroyed.”

Apollion threw him a half smile, then glanced to Bryce. “You did better than expected.” Bryce snapped her fingers, the sound muffled by her gloves. “That is what I want on my new business cards. Bryce Quinlan: Better than Expected.”

No more shadows, no more halo, no more pain. Never again.