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

by Sarah J. Maas

“They have a place in this land for creatures like me. The unwanted. It is called the Middle. I have dreamt of it, seen it in my long slumber.”

“Use the Crown that Made scum over there possesses.” Vesperus nodded to Nesta. “You could forge a path to enact your vision by clearing the minds of those before you.”

Even depriving Vesperus of her magic sustenance for this long hadn’t killed her. What would taking out that massive core of firstlight under the Asteri’s palace in the Eternal City do, other than remove their source of nutrition? It wouldn’t be enough.

half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.” “There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly. “Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.”

“There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”

The Bone Quarter, surrounded by impenetrable mists, held all that secondlight. “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” The Northern Rift was wreathed in mist, too, Bryce realized. A tear between worlds—a thin place. And the riverbank where she’d landed in this world … it had been misty there, as well. “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer … She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.”

No, that was time slowing, rippling, as it had with Micah, as if the blades were killing the Asteri, a great world power—

It … it hadn’t worked. The sword and dagger united hadn’t killed her.

Vesperus, the only Asteri left on this world, lay dead.

flickered there. “You’re as much of a monster as they are,” Nesta accused. Bryce knew. She’d always known. “Love will do that to you.”

So Hunt said again, “What does he want from my lightning?” “If I were to guess … The same thing Sofie Renast’s lightning was hunted for: to resurrect the dead.”

“So the River Queen was on the hunt for Sofie to … engage in some necromancy? Why not go to the Bone Quarter?” “I don’t know what the River Queen wanted.”

“Why now?” Hunt asked. “I’ve been enslaved to them for centuries, for Urd’s sake.” “Perhaps they’ve at last learned what your father bred you to be.” Even the miserable itching in his back was forgotten at those words. “What the fuck does that mean?” But Aidas only shook his head. “A tale for another time, Athalar.” “A tale for now, Aidas. These cryptic mentions of my father, the black crown, secrets about my powers—” “Mean nothing, if you do not get out of these dungeons.” “Then stop fucking popping out of the shadows and find a key.” “I cannot. My body isn’t real here.” “It was real enough in Quinlan’s apartment.” “That was a portal, a summoning. This is like … a phone call.”

A soft, taunting laugh. How had her mother ever loved this cold-blooded reptile? “I’ve already sealed off the wards around this villa, and sent away my servants and sentries.”

Locking him inside the House of Flame and Shadow.

“The Fae there are stronger than we are. The Asteri take a chunk of our power through the Drop—it feeds them, sustains them. In that other world, the Fae retain their full, pure power.”

The timelines between their worlds were similar, then. “And—”

“No attacks since the one on the lab. Their numbers are nearly depleted. Ophion is, for all intents and purposes, dead.”

It wasn’t a wall. It was a door, and beyond it, silhouetted by the light, was a slim female figure. Even before he could make out her face, he knew the voice. Arch, cultured, bored. “Well, that’s one way of knocking,” drawled Jesiba Roga.

Bryce plowed on, “He said the orrery is to contemplate fundamental questions about ourselves, like who we are and where we came from. I have a hard time believing you’re in here all day, thinking about anything that profound.”

“The Fae bloodlines have been weakening for generations now. It is my life’s work to investigate why. This orrery was built in pursuit of answering that question.”

“It’s about our survival. The Fae stand in a favorable position with the Asteri. If our power wanes, they will lose interest in maintaining that. Others will creep in to take what we have, predators around a carcass. And the Asteri won’t lift a finger to stop them.”

“Is it true that the Asteri can’t pierce the mists around Avallen?” “Morven is almost certain they can’t. Though I don’t know if Rigelus has ever tried to breach the barriers.”

“Does the term thin place mean anything to you?”

A prism—the total opposite of what she’d done with her powers when she’d fought Nesta and Azriel. Where she’d condensed light, the prism fractured it.

“Ruhn told me that you hole up in here all day looking for patterns,” Bryce said, nodding to the orrery, the prism device, the assortment of golden tools on the desk. “What sort of patterns?”

“This device refracts the light, pulling it apart so I might study every facet of it.” He pointed to a sister device positioned directly across from it. “That device gathers it back into one beam again. I am attempting to add more to the light in the process of re-forming it. If the light might be pulled apart and strengthened in its most basic form, there’s a chance that it will coalesce into a more powerful version of itself.” She refrained from mentioning the blue stones Azriel had wielded—how they’d condensed and directed his power. Instead, she drawled, “And this is a good use of your time because …?” His silence was biting. “Let me do the math.” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “The Asteri are made of light. They feed on firstlight. You are studying light, its properties, beyond what science can already tell us …” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Am I getting warm?” Bryce asked. “But if you have such questions about the Asteri, why not ask them yourself?” She hummed in contemplation. “Maybe you want to use this against them?” He arched a brow. “Your imagination does run rampant.” “Oh, totally. But you took zero interest in me as a kid. And now suddenly, once I revealed my magic light, you want me to be part of your fucked-up little family.” “My only interest in you lies in the bloodline you stand to pass on.” “Too bad Hunt complicates that.” “More than you know.”

“So your daughter has light powers, you’re interested in patterns in light … you want the information hidden from the Asteri …” She chuckled, lowering her hand at last. “Oh, don’t even try to deny it,” she said when he opened his mouth. “If you wanted to help them, you’d have turned me over to them already.”

“You want to know if I can kill them, don’t you? The Asteri. If the Starborn light is different from their light, and how it is different. That’s where the orrery comes in: contemplating where we come from … what sort of light we have, how it can be weaponized.”

I united the sword and knife. Prophecy fulfilled.” “You don’t know anything about that prophecy,” the Autumn King said, and returned to his work. She asked sweetly, “So my interpretation is wrong? When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be. Well, I went to our old world. Met some people. Reminded them we exist. Came back here. Thus, two people reunited.” He shook his head in pure disgust. “You know as little about those blades as you do your own true nature.”

“Perhaps the Asteri have been taking too much, for too long, from our people. That is why the bloodlines have weakened, generation after generation.” He spoke more to himself than to her, but his eyes snapped to Bryce’s as he said, “So all the water on Midgard is contaminated.”

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.

Even in his rage and loathing, he’d never dared risk sharing the knowledge of Daybright’s identity with another person who could betray her.

Her scent hit him, wrapping around him, holding him awake as surely as she wrapped her arm around his middle to help keep him standing.

A voice crackled over the radio—Declan Emmet’s voice. “Daybright, you read?” Hot tears began to streak down Ruhn’s face.

“Where the fuck is your hand?” Tristan Flynn shouted to Ruhn over the gunfire, a rifle at his shoulder. He fired behind them, again and again, and Baxian pivoted the gunner to the rear, unloading bullets onto the pursuing enemy. Ruhn was well and truly crying then.

Then a soft female voice said, “This is Irithys. Set to ignite at the Eternal City.”

“Those are all places on the Spine.” Athalar was right: Every single city mentioned was a major depot along the vital railway that funneled imperial weapons to the front.

The line of exploding orange and red that raced up the continent. One depot after another after another, all exploding into nothing. The Hind had broken the Spine of Pangera with one fatal blow, ignited by the fire from the lost Sprite Queen.

Lidia let out a choked, bloody laugh as she died.

There’s an extra laptop on the credenza over there. Password JellyJubilee. Both words capitalized, no spaces. Don’t give me that look, Holstrom. Quinlan set it.”

Her father wasn’t for or against the Asteri. He was just an opportunist.

“Open a portal to nowhere,” the Autumn King said, the flame guttering in his eyes. “What do you mean?” Bryce demanded. “The Starsword is Made, as you called it.” He waved an idle hand, sparks at his fingertips. “The knife can Unmake things. Made and Unmade. Matter and antimatter. With the right influx of power—a command from the one destined to wield them—they can be merged. And they can create a place where no life, no light exists. A place that is nothing. Nowhere.”

“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.”

“Yes, but you must be invited in order to cross the mists. And considering where you stand with Morven …”

Day, Ruhn said into the void between them, as he had nearly every hour now. Day—can you hear me? No answer. Lidia. He’d never addressed her by her name before. Even in here. He tried again, sending it out into the void like a plea. Lidia. But the darkness only howled in answer.

“Bryce would want me to get the word out—about what she learned regarding the Asteri. So I figure I’ll start with the Ocean Queen. She’s not allied with Ophion, but she seems to … help them.”

Shreds of the tattoo across his heart—Through love, all is possible, inked in Danika’s handwriting—remained. How he’d ever get it replaced … Hunt’s own heart strained.

Lehabah would have loved them. Lehabah should have been there, with them. With all of them.

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.