House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1) - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,157

purple glitter.”

She blinked at him. “You thought it was a sex toy, didn’t you?”

He said nothing.

“You think I keep my vibrator in my linen closet?”

He crossed his arms. “What I want to know is why you have a box of these things.”

“Because I love them.” She gently set Jelly Jubilee in the box, but pulled out an orange-and-yellow toy. “This is my pegasus, Peaches and Dreams.”

“You’re twenty-five years old.”

“And? They’re sparkly and squishy.” She gave P&D a little squeeze, then put her back in the box and pulled out the third one, a slender-legged unicorn with a mint-green coat and rose-colored mane. “And this is Princess Creampuff.” She almost laughed at the juxtaposition as she held up the sparkly toy in front of the Umbra Mortis.

“That name doesn’t even match her coloring. What’s up with the food names?”

She ran a finger over the purple glitter sprayed across the doll’s flank. “It’s because they’re so cute you could eat them. Which I did when I was six.”

His mouth twitched. “You didn’t.”

“Her name was Pineapple Shimmer and her legs were all squishy and glittery and I couldn’t resist anymore and just … took a bite. Turns out the inside of them really is jelly. But not the edible kind. My mom had to call poison control.”

He surveyed the box. “And you still have these because …?”

“Because they make me happy.” At his still-bemused look she added, “All right. If you want to get deep about it, Athalar, playing with them was the first time the other kids didn’t treat me like a total freak. The Starlight Fancy horses were the number one toy on every girl’s Winter Solstice wish list when I was five. And they were not all made equal. Poor Princess Creampuff here was common as a hoptoad. But Jelly Jubilee …” She smiled at the purple unicorn-pegasus, the memory it summoned. “My mom left Nidaros for the first time in years to buy her from one of the big towns two hours away. She was the ultimate Starlight Fancy conquest. Not just a unicorn, not just a pegasus—but both. I flashed this baby at school and was instantly accepted.”

His eyes shone as she gently set the box on the high shelf. “I’ll never laugh at them again.”

“Good.” She turned back to him, remembering that she still wore only her towel, and he was still shirtless. She grabbed a box of soap and shoved it toward him. “Here. Next time you want to check out my vibrators, just ask, Athalar.” She inclined her head toward her bedroom door and winked. “They’re in the left nightstand.”

Again, his cheeks reddened. “I wasn’t—you’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She shut the linen closet door with her hip and sauntered back to her bedroom. “I’d rather be a pain in the ass,” she said slyly over her bare shoulder, “than a snooping pervert.”

His snarl followed her all the way back into the bathroom.

42

In the midmorning light, the Istros River gleamed a deep blue, its waters clear enough to see the detritus sprinkled among the pale rocks and waving grasses. Centuries of Crescent City artifacts rusted away down there, picked over again and again by the various creatures who eked out a living by scavenging the crap hurled into the river.

Rumor had it that city officials had once tried to institute heavy fines for anyone caught dumping things in the river, but the scavengers had caught wind of it and put up such a fuss that the River Queen had no choice but to shut the bill down when it was officially proposed.

Overhead, angels, witches, and winged shifters soared by, keeping clear of the misty gloom of the Bone Quarter. Last night’s rain had cleared to a pleasant spring day—no hint of the flickering lights that often drifted beneath the river’s surface, visible only once night fell.

Bryce frowned down at a crustacean—some type of mammoth blue crab—picking its way along the floor beside the quay’s stone block, sorting through a pile of beer bottles. The remnants of last night’s drunken revels. “Have you ever been down to the mer-city?”

“No.” Hunt rustled his wings, one brushing against her shoulder. “Happy to stay above the surface.” The river breeze drifted past, chill despite the warm day. “You?”

She rubbed her hands down her arms along the smooth leather of Danika’s old jacket, trying to coax some warmth into them. “Never got an invite.”

Most never would. The river folk were notoriously secretive, their city beneath the surface—the