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

by Sarah J. Maas

“You said the Old Language hasn’t been spoken here in fifteen thousand years.

“How did you come to be in possession of the lost sword Gwydion?”

“What … You mean the Starsword?”

“It’s a family heirloom,” Bryce said. “It’s been in my world since it was brought there by my ancestors … fifteen thousand years ago.”

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

“When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be,” Bryce murmured into the quiet.

Through love, all is possible.

They lay before her like obedient dogs.

Ruhn had called her a queen before she left. And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.

“Who’d you piss off to get sent to retrieve me, anyway?”

She could have sworn Nesta’s lips curved into a smile. “On a good day, too many people to count. But today … I volunteered.”

“Then what was the point of all this watching me from the shadows?” Hunt demanded. “To ensure that we can continue to rely on you when the time comes.” “To do what?” Hunt ground out. “What you were born to do—to accomplish the task for which your father brought you into existence,” Apollion said before fading into nothing, leaving Aidas standing alone before the prisoners. Shock reared up in Hunt, dampened by the weight of an old, unbidden hurt. “I have no father.” Aidas’s expression was sad as he stepped out of the shadows. “You spent too long asking the wrong questions.” “What the fuck does that mean?”

Aidas shook his head. “The black crown once again circling your brow is not a new torment from the Asteri. It has existed for millennia.”

head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd.

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.

Nesta nodded shallowly. “None of that helps us get across the river.”

She's such a bitch. I love it

She turned to warn Nesta to make for the shore, too, but found that the female was a few feet behind her, swimming like mad for the bank.

I chuckled picturing this

The scent of her blood filled the cave, the wounds on her hands still open and bleeding. Not enough to be alarming, but a small, steady ooze every now and then.

I just feel like this is important if they keep mentioning it

A strange, cold breeze swept through the tunnel. Bryce had endured that wind before, in the Bone Quarter. A wind of death, of decay, of quiet.

“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.”

“Gwyn and Emerie are waiting,” Azriel pushed. “And Feyre and Elain.” The silver flame flared at that. Then Azriel said, “Nyx is waiting, too.”

Nyxxxxxx

Through love, all is possible. Even getting free of death-masks.

Nesta said, “When we stop again … can you show me how that contraption works?”

translated into their language, and it sounded outright silly in their accent. But Nesta nodded, her eyes fixed on the tunnel ahead. “Trying to figure out what it does has been driving us all crazy.”

Lmaaaoooo

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

Bryce knew who it was before Silene spoke again. Knew whose truth she’d been led here, across the stars, to learn at last. Theia.

Bryce stared at the hard-faced, beautiful female who could have rivaled the Hind for sheer badassery and beauty. Theia. Silene’s next words only confirmed how alike the ancient Fae Queen and the Hind were: 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.

Bryce pointed to the hologram—to the golden-haired Fae male. “Who is he?” she asked quietly. There had never been any mention of Fionn in the histories of Midgard, the lore. “The first and last High King of these lands,” Azriel breathed.

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.

Theia nodded once, slowly, as if making a decision, and then played the Horn and Harp. A portal between worlds swirled. It solidified, an archway to nowhere. A handsome, golden-haired male stood before it, with eyes like blue opals.

Prince Aidas only asked my mother one thing when she opened the gate to his world: “Have you come to ask for Hel’s help, then?”

She gave us what protection her magic could offer, transferring it from her body into our own using the Harp. Another secret she had learned from her long-ago masters: that the Harp could not only move its bearer through the world, but move things from one place to another—even move magic from her soul to ours.

Silene, walking away from the Harp and through the empty, beautiful halls of a palace carved into the mountain—this mountain.

Our home had been left empty since we’d vanished. As if the other Fae thought it cursed. So I made it truly cursed. Damned it all.

Then she waved a hand, and entire hallways were walled off with natural rock. Another wave, and ornate throne rooms were swallowed by the mountain, until only the lowermost passages, the dungeons and this chamber far beneath, remained.

Beneath another mountain, far to the south, I found a being of blood and rage and nightmares. Once a pet of the Asteri, it had long been in hiding, feeding off the unwitting. With the dagger and my power, I laid a trap for it. And when it came sniffing, I dragged it back here. Locked it in one of the cells. Warded the door.

One after another, I hunted monsters—the remaining pets of the Daglan—until many of the lowest rooms were filled with them. Until my once-beautiful home became a prison.

He wanted me to be High Lady, as the other lords’ mates were,

That crystal coffin revealed the features of the sleeping female: humanoid, pale-skinned, and slender. Her silky golden gown accentuated every delicate curve of her body.

The female in the sarcophagus was an Asteri.

“Where the fuck is your hand?”

Through love, all is possible,

It had pained him to see them gathered around the TV earlier. Lehabah would have loved them. Lehabah should have been there, with them. With all of them.

Im crying now

“Something to do with the Viper Queen and the River Queen threatening war for harboring you?”

God dammit tharion

“Do you want to … start aging again?”

“Not yet,” Jesiba said a shade quietly. “Not until it’s time.”

“For a world to emerge where these books will be truly safe at last.”

And for Bryce, home was—and always would be—Hunt.

Bryce Quinlan swept through the doorway and winked at the Ocean Queen. “Tharion serves me.”

If Danika could not be here, it was only fitting that her mate stood here instead.