House of Flame and Shadow

Showing a masked queen, a crown upon her head, bearing instruments in her hand and standing before an adoring crowd. Behind her, a great mountaintop palace rose toward the sky, winged horses soaring among the clouds.

Ithan peered around the sterile, tiled morgue and managed to say, “Why do you guys have a morgue down here?”
Jesiba sat on a medical-looking stool, back straight. “Where else are we supposed to raise dead bodies?”
“I don’t know why I asked.”

Marc rubbed his temples. “Remind me how it is that the three of you are considered some of the most feared warriors in this city?”

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 …” Ruhn didn’t finish, and didn’t need to. A broken, rasping laugh came out of Hunt. Then Baxian. Then Ruhn.

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.”

Night. The female voice echoed across the starlit sea. Like a lighthouse shining in the distance.

Ruhn, Lidia said, and he hated the sound of his name on her lips. He hated her.

we need to think through our steps carefully. It’s a question of strategy.”
“Lead on, oh great sunball captain,” Flynn intoned with mock solemnity.

“It is not pity,” Irithys said, ruby flame darkening to a color like rich wine. “It is honor. There is none in attacking a person who cannot fight back, enemy or no.”

“Enjoy your name and honor. I hope they’re good company in that crystal ball.”

“Why didn’t you come to us for help?” Tharion sipped his coffee, wincing at the heat that burned his mouth. “It’s too early for this conversation.”

Tharion couldn’t decide whether to glare at the wolf or hug him.

I guessed you might be hiding here as well.”
“Guessed?” Declan demanded. “Or someone sold us out?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” the Hind said, crossing her arms. “You’re extremely predictable.”

Flynn threw up his hands. “Am I the only one who feels like they’re on a bad acid trip?”

Tharion scrubbed at his face. “I’m still on one, I think.”

“He and I …”
“Don’t for one fucking second believe this,” Flynn snapped. “She probably rolled around in his blood in the dungeons.”

“Ruhn is valuable to me,” the Hind said without an ounce of doubt.

“We need to get out of here,” Ruhn said, and nothing had ever sounded more stupid. Of course they needed to get out of here. For so many fucking reasons.

He’d been so fucking pathetic and lonely that he’d needed to think the best, even though it was clear he’d always had a one-way ticket to disaster.

So Ruhn said, “You were alone then, Athalar.” Hunt met Ruhn’s stare, as if to say, Oh yeah? Ruhn just nodded. Friends, brothers, whatever—he had Athalar’s back.

Art has a universal language.

“It means that there was once joy in this world.” Silence. Then Nesta said, “That’s it?” Bryce kept her eyes on the dancers, the stars, the lush lands. Ignored the darkness beneath. Focused on the good—always the good. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

Lidia Cervos brushed out her hair, seated at her vanity in her ornate room in the Asteri’s palace.

“I’ve been in the Fae realms long enough to know that there are forces that sometimes guide us, push us along. I’ve learned to let them. And to listen.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and it was kindling to his temper. How dare she look that way, look like she was hurt, when it was his fucking heart— “You’re dead to me,” Ruhn hissed, and vanished.

“How much power?” Gods, this was potentially a really bad idea. Experimenting with power she didn’t know or understand— “A little. Just make sure you don’t deep-fry me.” After the shit with the Wyrm, he’d probably like nothing more than to do exactly that. But Azriel’s lips tugged upward. “I’ll try my best.”

She flashed the screen at Nesta and Azriel. “That’s Hunt,” she said hoarsely. “My mate.”

You kill Ithan, you hurt him beyond repair, and you will have more enemies than you know what to do with. Starting with Tristan Flynn—who might seem like an irreverent idiot, but is fully capable of ripping you apart with his bare hands—and ending with me.”

“I thought you had the hots for the dragon,” Declan muttered. “No pun intended.”

Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.”
“A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.”

“You idiot,” Bryce spat at the image of Pelias and Theia hovering over a table full of star charts. “Both of you: fucking idiots.”

Something sharpened in him. Steadied him. They were doing this: wolf to wolf. Alpha to … whatever he was. A wolf without a pack.

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.

The pulse in her throat seemed to flutter in answer. “I want you all the time.”

“So,” Jesiba said, drumming her fingers on her desk, “the pup goes to pitch a deworming medicine to a bunch of wolves and comes home Prime.”

So boo-fucking-hoo and to Hel with her atonement.

“Been talking to shadows, have you?” Rigelus hissed. “Umbra Mortis and all that,” Hunt said. “Makes sense for the Shadow of Death.”

“It will hurt.” Lidia held the sprite’s stare. “Good. In order to be real, it needs to hurt.”

She met Nesta’s stare. Raging silver fire 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.”

Hunt said hoarsely, “If you find her … if you see her again … tell her …” Not to come back. Not to dare enter this world of pain and suffering and misery. That he was so damn sorry for not stopping all of this. “I know,” Aidas said, not needing Hunt to finish before he vanished into darkness.

“No one knows you’re here.”
“Taking your daughter hostage: excellent parenting.”

“Look at you: cooking your own meals and grocery shopping. Why, you could almost pass as a functional adult and not some pampered brat.”

“Your imagination does run rampant.”

The Autumn King smiled. It was a thing of nightmarish beauty. “You truly are my child. More so than Ruhn ever was.”

Nice knowing you, Athalar.

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.

Lidia didn’t take her eyes off the road as she picked up the radio. “This is Daybright. Blast it to Hel, Irithys.”

The Hind had broken the Spine of Pangera with one fatal blow, ignited by the fire from the lost Sprite Queen.

She was lovely—her coat a gold so pale it was nearly white. Her golden eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes. A slice of darker gold slashed up between her eyes like a lick of flame.

Which was faster—a deer or a wolf?