House of Flame and Shadow: The INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER third instalment in the Crescent City series

Hunt found Baxian arranging fresh bundles of hay in the castle stables. They remained intact, located just far enough away from the castle to have been spared during its collapse. “You got the lightning to the wolf and the witch?” Baxian asked by way of greeting.

“They’re on their way back to Lunathion with it. But the priority is to try to find a cure for the parasite.”

“Good,” Baxian grunted. “I hope they have more success than I’ve had with finding us housing for tonight.”

“That bad, huh?” Hunt said, leaning against the doorway.

“No one wants to loan us a room or even a bed, so short of kicking people out of their homes …” The Helhound gestured grandly to the stables. “Welcome to Hotel Horseshit.”

Hunt chuckled, surveying the woodwork. “Honestly, I’ve slept in way worse. These horses have a nicer home than the one I grew up in.”

Sad, but true.

“Same,” Baxian said, and it surprised Hunt enough that he lifted a brow. Baxian said, “I, ah … grew up in one of the poorer parts of Ravilis. Being half-shifter—half–Helhound shifter—and half-angel … it didn’t make my parents popular with either the House of Earth and Blood or the House of Sky and Breath. Made it hard for them to keep their jobs.”

“Which one of your parents was the angel?”

“My dad,” Baxian said. “He served as a captain in Sandriel’s 45th. He had it easier than my mom, who was shunned by everyone she ever knew for ‘sullying’ herself with an angel. But they both paid the price for being together.”

From the way his tone darkened, Hunt knew it had to have been bad. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I was eight. I still don’t know how the mob started, but …” Baxian’s throat worked, yet he finished one pallet of hay and moved on to start another. “It ended with my mom torn to shreds by her fellow Helhounds, and my father seized by the very angels he commanded and given the Living Death.”

Hunt blew out a breath. “Fuck.”

“They were in such a frenzy, they, ah …” Baxian shook his head. “They kept cutting off his wings every time they tried to heal. He lost so much blood in the end that he didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunt said again. “I never knew.”

“No one did. Not even Sandriel.” Baxian laid a blanket over the next pallet. “From then on, I was on my own. Neither side of the family would take a half-breed, as they made sure to call me, so I learned how to fend for myself in the slums. How to keep hidden, how to listen for valuable information—how to sell that information to interested parties. I became good enough at it that I made a name for myself. The Snake, they called me, because I fucked over so many people. And Sandriel eventually heard about me and recruited me for her triarii—to be her spy-master and tracker. The Snake became the Helhound, but … I kept a few touches.”

The memory of Baxian’s reptilian armor flashed through Hunt’s mind.

“I hated it, hated Sandriel, hated Lidia, who I always thought could see through me, but … what else was I going to do with myself?” Baxian finished with all the pallets and faced Hunt. “Serving in Sandriel’s triarii was better than living in the slums, always looking over my shoulder for whoever wanted to knife me. But the shit she had us do …” He tapped his neck, the scar Hunt had given him. “I deserved this.”

“We all did fucked-up shit for Sandriel,” Hunt said roughly.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have a choice. I did.”

“You chose to turn away from it, to mitigate the damage when you could.”

“Thanks to Danika,” Baxian said.

“What better excuse than love?” Hunt asked.

Baxian smiled sadly. “I told her everything, you know. Danika, I mean. And she understood—she didn’t judge. She told me she had a half-human, half-Fae friend who had faced similar troubles. I think her love for Bryce allowed her to see past all my shit and still love me.”

Hunt smiled. “You should tell Bryce that.”

Baxian eyed him. “You guys … ah, you guys okay? Things seemed kind of rough for a while, down in the caves.”

“Yeah,” Hunt said, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, we are. We talked.”

“And the Hel stuff …” Bryce had filled everyone in about what the Princes of Hel had claimed about Hunt’s origins. “You doing okay with that?”

Hunt considered. “It seems secondary to everything else that’s going on, you know? Poor me, with my daddy issues. Daddies? I don’t even know.”

Baxian huffed a laugh. “Does it matter? Your exact genetic makeup?”

Hunt considered again. “No. That’s just stuff in my blood, my magic. It’s not who I am.” He shrugged. “That’s what Bryce says, anyway. I’m working on believing it.”

Baxian nodded to the halo on Hunt’s brow. “So how come you haven’t taken it off yet? They claimed you’ve had the power all along.”

Hunt glanced toward the raftered ceiling. “I will,” he hedged.

Baxian gave Hunt a look that said he saw right through him. That right now, Hunt needed a breather. Just some time to process everything. He wanted to be free of the halo, but to go full Prince of Hel or whatever … he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

But Baxian said, “Bryce is right, though. Who you are isn’t about what’s biologically in your system. It’s about who raised you. Who you are now.”

Hunt’s mother’s face flashed before his eyes, and he fixed the memory of her close to his heart. “Have you and Bryce been exchanging notes on how to give me a pep talk?”

Baxian laughed, then glanced around. “Where is she, anyway? Off making more gardens?”

Hunt laughed quietly. “Probably. But I came here to find you—we’re having a council of war in a minute, but I wanted to ask you something first.”

Baxian crossed his powerful arms, giving Hunt his full attention. “What?”

“Some shit’s going down soon. I need someone to run things if I’m not around.”

“And where would you be?”

“You’ll hear about everything from Bryce,” Hunt said, holding his stare. “But I need a second in command right now.”

Baxian raised his brows. For a moment, Hunt was in a war tent again, giving orders to his soldiers before battle. He shook off the chill of the memory and folded his wings.

Baxian smirked, though. “Who said you’re in charge?”

Hunt rolled his eyes. “My wife, that’s who.” But he pressed, “So … will you? I need someone who can fight. On the ground and in the air.”

“Oh, you’re only asking because I have wings?” Baxian ruffled his black feathers for emphasis.

“I’m asking,” Hunt said, noting the spark of amusement on the Helhound’s face, “because I trust you, asshole. For some weird reason.”

“Asteri dungeon bonding at its finest.” The tone was light, though the shadows of all they’d been through darkened Baxian’s eyes. “But I’m honored. Yeah—you can trust me. Tell me what needs to get done and I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” Hunt said, and motioned to the exit. “You might regret that in a few minutes … but thanks.”

“Let me get this straight,” Ruhn said. They had all gathered around a campfire in the middle of an open plain—about the only privacy they could find from spying ears. Just for the Hel of it, Flynn had grown a small grove of oak trees around them. His earth-based magic seemed to be exploding here now, as if the reborn land were calling to him to fill it, adorn it.

But Ruhn fixed his stare on his sister as he said, “We’re going to Nena. To open the Northern Rift.”

Bryce, seated on a large stone with Hunt beside her, said, “I am going to Nena. With Hunt. And my parents—I need Randall’s particular brand of expertise. Baxian will stay here with Cooper until they get back. You are going to take those two buzzards”—she nodded to Flynn and Declan, who glared at her—“and go back to Lunathion.”

Ruhn blinked slowly. “To … die? Because that’s what will happen if we’re caught.”

“To find Isaiah and Naomi. See if they can come join us. Their phones and emails are no doubt tapped—we don’t have any other way to contact them.”

“You want us to go convince two members of Celestina’s triarii to go rogue?” Dec said.

Hunt said, “They won’t need much convincing, but yes. We need them.”

Ruhn shook his head. “If you’re thinking of rallying some sort of angelic host to take on the Asteri, forget it. No angel is going to follow any of us—even Athalar—into battle.”

Bryce held her ground. This was her plan, and there’d be no shaking her or Athalar from it, Ruhn knew. He opened his mouth to keep arguing anyway, but Dec cut him off.

“What about him?” Dec asked, pointing to Baxian. “He’s got a better in with the angels.”

Bryce shook her head. “Baxian will stay here to help coordinate the arriving refugees, and lead in our stead.” Bryce gestured to herself and Hunt.

“We could do that,” Flynn said.

“No,” Bryce said coolly. “You can’t. The Fae are more scared of him, so he’ll be the most effective.”

“Says who?” Flynn demanded. “We’re plenty scary.”

“Says the fact that he, at least, was able to get us the stables to sleep in,” Hunt growled. Baxian waggled his eyebrows at the Fae lord. “The rest of you struck out completely.”

Flynn and Dec scowled. But Ruhn’s breath caught as Bryce looked to Lidia. “I’m not going to presume to give you orders. I know you have an obligation to the Ocean Queen. Do what you must.”

“I go with Ruhn,” Lidia said quietly, and something in his chest sparked at that.

Bryce just nodded, and he didn’t miss the gratitude in his sister’s eyes.

“And me?” Tharion asked at last, brows high.

“I need you to go back to the River Queen,” Bryce said softly. “And convince her to shelter as many people Beneath as possible.”

Tharion paled. “Legs, I’d love to do that, but she’ll kill me.”

“Then find some way to convince her not to,” Athalar said, nothing but pure general as he fixed his stare on the mer. “Use those Captain Whatever skills and figure out something she wants more than killing you.”

Tharion glanced to Sathia, who was watching attentively. “She, uh … won’t be pleased by my new marital status.”

“Then find something,” Hunt said again, “to please her.”

Tharion’s jaw clenched, but Ruhn could see him thinking through his options.

“The Blue Court was the only faction in Crescent City that sheltered people during the attack this spring,” Bryce said. “You guys went out of your way to help innocents get to safety. Appeal to that side of the River Queen. Tell her a storm is coming, and that after what went down in Asphodel Meadows, we need her to take in as many people as the Blue Court can accommodate. If there’s anyone who’s got the charm to sway her, it’s you, Tharion.”

“Ah, Legs,” Tharion said, rubbing his face. “How can I resist when you ask like that?”

Sathia, to Ruhn’s surprise, laid a hand on the mer’s knee and promised Bryce, “We’ll both go.”

“Then she’ll definitely kill Tharion,” Flynn said.

Sathia glared at her brother. “I know a thing or two about dealing with arrogant rulers.” Her chin lifted. “I’m not afraid of the River Queen.” Tharion looked like he might warn her against that, but kept his mouth shut.

“Good,” Bryce said to Sathia. “And thank you.”

“So that’s it, then,” Ruhn said. “Come dawn, we’re scattering to the winds?”

“Come dawn,” Bryce said, and her chest flared with starlight that lit up the entire countryside, “we’re retaliating.”

Ruhn was still mulling it over—what Bryce wanted to do. Opening the Northern Rift to Hel. She had to be insane … yet he trusted her. And Athalar. They surely had some other sneaky-ass shit up their sleeves, but they’d reveal it when the time was right.

Ruhn tossed and turned on his crunchy, spiky pallet of hay, unable to sleep. Perhaps that was because Lidia lay across from him, staring up at the raftered ceiling.

Her eyes slid over to his, and Ruhn said into her mind, Can’t sleep?

I’m thinking about all the Ophion agents I encountered over the years. I never knew them in person, but the people who helped me organize the strike on the Spine, and worked with me for years before that … they’re all gone now.

It wasn’t your fault.

Asphodel Meadows was aimed at your sister. But butchering Ophion, the people in the camps … that was to punish me. Ophion aided me in your escape, and Rigelus wanted revenge.

Ruhn’s heart ached. We’ll make the Asteri pay for it.

She turned on her side, looking at him full in the face. Gods, she was beautiful.

How are you feeling? Her question was gentle. After … what happened with your father.

I don’t know, Ruhn said. It felt right in the moment, felt good, even. But now … He shook his head. I keep thinking about my mother, of all people. And what she’ll say. She might be the only person who’ll mourn him.

She loved him?

She was attached to him, even if he treated her as little more than a broodmare. But he kept her in comfort all these years, as a reward for birthing him a son. She was always grateful for that.

Lidia reached a hand across the narrow space between them and found his own—his fingers still strangely pale and uncalloused. But her skin was so soft and warm, the bones beneath so strong. You’ll find a way to live with what you did to your father. I did.

Ruhn lifted a brow. You …?

I killed him, yes. The words were frank, yet weary.

Why?

Because he was a monster—to me, and to so many others. I made it look like a rebel attack. Told Ophion to get their mech-suits and be waiting for him when his car drove through a mountain pass on its way to a meeting with me. They left a flattened vehicle and a corpse in their wake. Then burned the whole thing.

Ruhn blinked. Beheading my father seems like it was much … faster.

It certainly was. Her eyes held nothing but cold anger. I told the Ophion agents in the mech-suits to take their time squashing him in his car. They did.

Cthona, Lidia.

But I, too, wondered, about my mother after that, she said quietly. About Hecuba. Wondered what the Queen of the Valbaran Witches made of her ex-lover’s death. If she thought of me. If she had any interest, any at all, in reaching out to me after he died. But I never heard from her. Not once.

I’m sorry, he offered, and squeezed her hand. After a beat he asked, So you’re really not going back to the Ocean Queen?

No. Not as her spy. I meant every word earlier. I serve no one.

Is it weird to say I’m proud of you? Because I am.

She huffed a laugh and interlaced their fingers, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand. I see you, Ruhn, she said gently. All of you.

The words were a gift. His chest tightened. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning across the space and quietly, so no one around them might hear, pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was gentle, near silent. He pulled away after a heartbeat, but her free hand slid to his cheek. Her eyes glowed golden, even in the moonlit dimness of the stables. When we’re not sleeping in a stable surrounded by people, she said, mind-voice low—a purr that curled around his cock and gripped tight—I want to touch you.

His cock hardened at that, aching. He shut his eyes, fighting it, but her lips brushed his, silently teasing.

I want to ride you, she whispered into his mind, and slipped her hand from his to palm him through his pants. Ruhn bit down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. Her fingers slid down the length of him. I want this inside of me. She dug the heel of her palm along him, and he stifled a moan. I want you inside of me.

Fuck yeah was all he could manage to say, to think.

Her laughter echoed in his mind, and her lips slid from his to find the spot beneath his ear. 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.

Ruhn looked back to Lidia and saw her smiling, delight and mischief brightening her face.

And damn if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.