Free House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City) by Sarah J. Maas Page B

don’t have any Fae cousins.” Bryce snapped. If only the stupid scar would halt its glowing. If only people would go back to partying.
    “That light says otherwise,” Cormac said with blatant confidence. “I might be Ruhn’s cousin directly through his mother’s kin, but your father, King Einar, is Fae, and his line once crossed with ours long ago.” He held up his hand, and flame wreathed his fingers before winking out.
    Bryce blinked. Her mother had never once spoken the Autumn King’s name, and Bryce had only learned it through the news when she was old enough to use a computer.
    “Why are you here?” Ruhn bit out.
    From the corner of her vision lightning sizzled at Hunt’s fingertips. One strike, and Hunt could fry this fucker.
    Yet Cormac smiled. His dead eyes gleamed with nothing but contempt as he bowed mockingly to Bryce. “I’m here to meet my bride.”
    The words shot through Hunt’s mind fast enough that they doused his lightning, but Bryce tipped her head back and laughed.
    No one else joined her.
    And when Bryce had finished, she smirked at Cormac. “You’re hilarious.”
    “It is no joke,” Cormac said, face darkening. “It’s been decreed.”
    “By who?” Hunt snapped.
    The Avallen male sized up Hunt with palpable disdain. Not someone used to being questioned, then. Spoiled little prick. “By her sire, the Autumn King, and mine, the High King of the Avallen Fae.” Making this shithead a Crown Prince.
    Bryce said coolly, “Last I checked, I wasn’t on the market.”
    Hunt crossed his arms, becoming a wall of muscle beside her. Let Cormac see precisely who he’d be tangling with if he took another step closer to Bryce. Hunt willed tendrils of his lightning to crackle along his shoulders, his wings.
    “You’re an unwed Fae female,” Cormac said, unmoved. “That means you belong to your male kin until they decide to pass you to another. The decision has been made.”
    From the living room archway, a delicate, dark figure emerged. Axtar. She palmed a gun, but kept it at her thigh. No sign of Juniper—presumably, the faun was staying wherever Fury had instructed her to hide.
    Cormac glanced toward the merc, and even his sneer faltered.
    Every power broker on Midgard knew of Fury Axtar. What she was capable of, if provoked.
    Ruhn pointed to the door and snarled at Cormac, “Get the fuckout of my house. I don’t care if you use your shadows or your own feet, but get out.”
    Yet Cormac glowered at the Starsword peeking over Ruhn’s broad shoulder. “Rumor has it that the sword sings for my bride, too.”
    A muscle feathered in Ruhn’s jaw. Hunt didn’t know what to make of that.
    But Bryce stepped forward, star still blazing. “I’m not your bride, asshole. And I’m not going to be, so scuttle back to whatever hole you crawled out of and tell your kings to find someone else. And tell them—”
    “You’ve got a mouth on you,” Cormac murmured.
    Hunt didn’t particularly like the male’s appreciative tone. But he kept his power reined in. Even a zap of lightning against Cormac could be seen as a declaration of war.
    Fae were highly sensitive babies. Their tantrums could last centuries.
    Bryce smiled sweetly at Cormac. “I get that you want to play Broody Prince, but don’t ever fucking interrupt me again.”
    Cormac started. Hunt hid his smirk, even as his blood heated at Bryce’s irreverence.
    Bryce went on, “My brother told you to leave his house.” Her skin began to glow. “You don’t want me to have to ask you.”
    The hair on Hunt’s neck rose. She’d blinded people with that power—and that had been before the Drop. With all that magic backing her starlight … He hadn’t yet seen how it would manifest. Half hoped he’d find out now, with this asshole as a test subject.
    Hunt eyed Flynn, Declan, and Marc—all of whom were tense and primed to leap into the fray. And Ruhn …
    Hunt didn’t know why Ruhn’s apparent satisfaction surprised him. He’d