House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City) (65 page)

“Exactly,” Flynn said, as if the Fae lord weren’t taunting a dragon. A fucking
dragon
. A Lower, yes, but … fuck. They weren’t true shifters, switching between humanoid and animal bodies at will. They were more like the mer, if anything. There was a biological or magical difference to explain it—Ithan vaguely remembered learning about it in school, though he’d promptly forgotten the details.

It didn’t matter now, he supposed. The dragon could navigate two forms. He’d be a fool to underestimate her in this one.

The dragon stared Flynn down. He gave her a charming smile back. Her chin lifted. “Ariadne.”

Flynn arched a brow. “A dragon named Ariadne?”

“I suppose you have a better name for me?” she shot back.

“Skull-Crusher, Winged Doom, Light-Eater.” Flynn ticked them off on his fingers.

She snorted, and the hint of amusement had Ithan realizing that the dragon was … beautiful. Utterly lethal and defiant, but—well, damn. From the gleam in Flynn’s eyes, Ithan could tell the Fae lord was thinking the same.

Ariadne said, “Such names are for the old ones who dwell in their mountain caves and sleep the long slumber of true immortals.”

“But you’re not one of them?” Ithan asked.

“My kin are more … modern.” Her gaze sharpened on Flynn. “Hence Ariadne.”

Flynn winked. She scowled.

“How did all of you”—Declan cut in, motioning to Ariadne, her body similar to that of a Fae female’s—“fit into that tiny ring?”

“We were bespelled by the Astronomer,” Sasa whispered. “He’s an ancient sorcerer—don’t let him deceive you with that feeble act. He bought us all, and shoved us into those rings to light the way when he descends into Hel. Though Ariadne got put into the ring by …” She trailed off when the dragon cut her a scathing, warning look.

A chill went down Ithan’s spine. He asked them, “Is there anything to be done to free the others he still controls? The mystics?”

“No,” Ariadne answered. She peered down at her tan wrist. The brand there.
SPQM.
A slave’s mark. The sprites also bore it. “He owns them, as he owns us. The mystic you spoke to, the wolf …” Her black eyes shifted toward red again. “He favors her. He will never let her go. Not until she grows old in that tank and dies.”

Centuries from now, possibly. Ithan’s gut twisted.

“Please don’t make us go back,” Rithi whispered, clinging to Malana.

“Hush,” Malana warned.

Marc studied them. “Look, ladies. You’re in a tough spot. You’re not only slaves, but stolen slaves.” A warning look at Ithan, who shrugged. He had no regrets. “Yet there are laws about your treatment. It’s archaic and nonsensical that anyone can be owned, but if you can prove severe maltreatment, it might allow for you to be … purchased by someone else.”

“Not freed?” Sasa whispered.

“Only your new owner could do that,” Marc said sadly.

“So buy them and be done with it.” Ariadne crossed her arms.

“What about you, sweetheart?” Flynn purred at the dragon, like the Fae male literally couldn’t help himself.

Her eyes burned crimson. “I’m beyond your pay grade, lordling.”

“Try me.”

But the dragon turned back to staring at the TV, still paused on the video game. Ithan swallowed and asked her, “It’s bad, then—what he does to the mystics?”

“He tortures them,” Ariadne said flatly, and Rithi whimpered her agreement. “The wolf female is … defiant. She did not lie about his punishments. I’ve sat on his hand for years and witnessed him send her into the darkest corners of Hel. He lets the demons
and their princes taunt her. Terrify her. He thinks he’ll break her one day. I’m not so sure.”

Ithan’s stomach turned.

Ariadne went on, “She spoke true today about the necromancer, too.” Flynn, Marc, and Declan turned toward Ithan, brows high. “You want answers about your dead brother, then you should find one.”

Ithan nodded. The dragon belonged to the House of Flame and Shadow, even if the slave tattoo removed her from its protections. She’d have knowledge of a necromancer’s ability.

Declan announced, “Well, since we’re now harboring stolen slaves, we might as well make you ladies comfortable. Feel free to claim Ruhn’s room—second bedroom at the top of the stairs.”

The three sprites zoomed for the staircase, as if they were no more than three excited children. Ithan couldn’t help his smile. He’d done some good today, at least. Even if it would land him in a heap of trouble.

Ariadne slowly got to her feet. They rose with her.

Flynn, standing closest, said to the dragon, “You could run, you know. Shift into your other form and take off. We won’t tell anyone where you went.”

Her red eyes again dimmed to black. “Don’t you know what this does?” She lifted her arm to reveal the tattoo there. She laughed bitterly. “I can’t shift unless he allows it. And even if I manage it, anywhere I go, anywhere on Midgard, he can track me in that form.”

“You teleported,” Cormac said to Bryce an hour later as she and Hunt stood beside his cot in the city-ship’s hospital. The prince was pale, but alive. Every shard of the gorsian bullet had been removed. Another hour and he’d be back to normal.

Hunt didn’t particularly care. They’d only come to Cormac for answers.

Hunt was still recovering from the sex that had blasted him apart
mind and body and soul, the sex that Bryce had known would bring him back from the brink, that had made his magic sing.

Had made their magics merge.

He didn’t know how to describe it—the feeling of her magic wending through him. Like he existed all at once and not at all, like he could craft whatever he wished from thin air and nothing would be denied to him. Did she live with this, day after day? That pure sense of … possibility? It had faded since they’d teleported, but he could still feel it there, in his chest, where her handprint had glowed. A slumbering little kernel of creation.

“
How?
” Bryce asked. She’d had no shame, not even a blush, striding in here—the two of them wearing navy-blue aquatic body armor they’d taken from the air lock to cover themselves. Ruhn had looked thoroughly uncomfortable, but Tharion had laughed at Hunt’s disheveled hair and whatever stupid happiness was on his face, and said, “Good work bringing our boy back, Legs.”

Bryce had gone right to Cormac and explained what had happened in the most Quinlan-like way Hunt could imagine: “Right at the end of banging Hunt’s brains out,
right
when we came together, we wound up in the air lock.”

Cormac studied her, then Hunt. “Your powers merged, I take it.”

“Yeah,” Bryce said. “We both went all glowy. Not in the way that he was glowing during his …” She frowned. “Rage-daze.” She waved a hand. “This was like … we glowed with my starlight. Then we teleported.”

“Hmm,” Cormac said. “I wonder if you need Athalar’s power for teleporting.”

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not,” Bryce said.

Hunt lifted his brows. “In what way?”

“If my powers only work if my big, tough male helps me out—”

“It can’t be romantic?” Hunt demanded.

Bryce huffed. “I’m an independent female.”

“All right,” Hunt said, laughing softly. “Let’s just say that I’m like
some magic token in a video game and when you … use me, you level up.”

“That is the dorkiest thing you’ve ever said,” Bryce accused, and Hunt sketched a bow.

“So Hunt’s magic is the key to Bryce’s?” Ruhn asked Cormac.

“I don’t know if it’s Hunt specifically, or simply energy,” Cormac said. “Your power came from the Gates—it’s something we don’t understand. It’s playing by unknown rules.”

“Great,” Bryce muttered, sinking into the chair beside Ruhn’s near the window. Black, eternal water spread beyond.

Hunt rubbed his jaw, frowning. “The Prince of the Pit told me about this.”

Bryce’s brow scrunched. “Sex teleporting?”

Hunt snorted. “No. He told me that you and I hadn’t … explored what our powers could do. Together.”

Ruhn said, “You think this is what he had in mind?”

“I don’t know,” Hunt admitted, marking the gleam of worry on Bryce’s face. They still had a lot to talk about.

“Is it wise,” Tharion drawled, “to do as he says?”

“I think we should wait to see if our theory is correct,” Bryce said. “See if it really was our powers … merging.” She asked Hunt, “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” he said. “I think I kept a kernel of your power in me for a while, but it’s gone quiet.”

She smiled slightly. “We definitely need to do more research.”

“You just want to bang Athalar again,” Tharion countered.

Bryce inclined her head. “I thought that was a given.”

Hunt stalked toward her, fully intending to drag her to some quiet room to test out the theory. But the door to the room slid open, and Commander Sendes appeared. Her face was grim.

Hunt braced himself. The Asteri had found them. The Omegas were about to attack—

But her gaze fell on Cormac. She said quietly, “The medwitch told me that in your delirium, you were talking about someone named Sofie Renast. That name is known to us here—we’ve heard of her work for years now. But I thought you should know that we
were summoned to rescue an agent from the North Sea weeks ago. It wasn’t until we reached her that we realized it was Sofie.”

The room went utterly silent. Cormac’s swallow was audible as Sendes went on, “We were too late. Sofie had drowned by the time our divers picked her up.”

47

The morgue was cold and quiet and empty, save for the female corpse lying on the chrome table, covered by a black cloth.

Bryce stood by the doorway as Cormac knelt beside the body, preserved by a medwitch until the ship could hand Sofie over to the Ophion rebels for claiming. The prince was silent.

He’d been this way since Sendes had come to his room.

And though Bryce’s body still buzzed with all she and Hunt had done, seeing that slender female body on the table, the prince kneeling, head bowed … Her eyes stung. Hunt’s fingers found hers and squeezed.

“I knew,” Cormac said roughly. His first words in minutes. “I think I always knew, but …”

Ruhn stepped to his cousin’s side. Put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Cormac leaned his brow against the rim of the examination table. His voice shook. “She was good, and brave, and kind. I never deserved her, not for one minute.”

Bryce’s throat ached. She let go of Hunt’s hand to approach Cormac, touching his other shoulder. Where would Sofie’s soul go? Did it linger near her body until they could give her a proper Sailing? If she went to one of the resting places, they’d be dooming her to a terrible fate.

But Bryce didn’t say any of that. Not as Cormac slid his fingers beneath the black cloth and pulled out a blue-tinged, stiff hand. He clasped it in his own, kissing the dead fingers. His shoulders began to shake as his tears flowed.

“We met during a recon report to Command,” Cormac said, voice breaking. “And I knew it was foolish, and reckless, but I had to speak to her after the meeting was over. To learn everything I could about her.” He kissed Sofie’s hand again, closing his eyes. “I should have gone back for her that night.”

Tharion, who’d been poring over the coroner’s files on Sofie at the desk by the far wall, said gently, “I’m sorry if I gave you false hope.”

“It kept her alive in my heart a little longer,” Cormac said, swallowing back his tears. He pressed her stiff hand against his brow. “My Sofie.”

Ruhn squeezed his shoulder.

Tharion asked carefully, “Do you know what this means, Cormac?” He rattled off a series of numbers and letters.

Cormac lifted his head. “No.”

Tharion held up a photo. “They were carved on her upper biceps. The coroner thinks she did it while she drowned, with some sort of pin or knife she might have had hidden on her.”

Cormac shot to his feet, and Bryce stepped into Hunt’s awaiting arms as the Fae Prince folded back the sheet. Nothing on the right arm he’d held, but the left—

The assortment of numbers and letters had been carved roughly an inch below her shoulder, left unhealed. Cut deep.

“Did she know someone was racing to save her?” Hunt asked.

Cormac shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“How did the mer know to pick her up?”

“She could have signaled them with her light,” Cormac mused. “Or maybe they saw Emile’s, like they did with Bryce’s. It lit up the whole sea taking down those Omegas. It must have signaled them somehow.”

Bryce made a note to ask Commander Sendes. She said to Hunt, “Do those numbers and letters mean anything to you?”

“No.” He stroked his thumb over Bryce’s hand, as if reassuring himself that she stood there, and wasn’t the one on that table.

Cormac covered Sofie with the sheet again. “Everything Sofie did, it was for a reason. You remind me of her in some ways.”

Ruhn said, “I’ll put Declan on the hunt as soon as we’re home.”

“What about the Ophion rebels and Pippa?” Bryce asked. “And the Hind?”

Hunt said, “We’re everyone’s enemy now.”

Cormac nodded. “We can only meet the challenge. But knowing for sure that Sofie is gone … I must redouble my efforts to find Emile.”

“Pippa seemed to know where he was lying low,” Tharion said. “No idea if that’s the safe place that Danika mentioned, though.”

Cormac’s eyes flashed. “I’m not letting him fall into your queen’s hands. Or Ophion’s control.”

“You ready to be a single dad?” Bryce drawled. “You’re just going to take the kid in and what … bring him to Avallen? That’ll be a
really
great place for him.”

Cormac stiffened. “I hadn’t planned that far. Are you suggesting I leave that child alone in the world?”

Bryce shrugged, studying her nails. Felt Hunt looking at her closely. “So do we warn our families?” Gods, if the Hind had already headed to her mom’s house—

“The Hind won’t go after them,” Cormac consoled her. Then amended, “Not yet. She’ll want you in her clutches first, so she can breathe in your suffering while you know she’s hunting them down.”

“So we go home and pretend nothing happened?” Ruhn asked. “What’s to stop the Hind from arresting us when we get back?”