Lehabah Crescent City Quotes

Yet Lehabah remained at the foot of the stairs. “Then let the world know that my first act of freedom was to help my friends.

Bryce sobbed, "I bought you, and now I set you free, Lehabah." Lehaba's smile didn't falter. "I know," she said. "I peeked in your drawer." And despite the monster trying to break loose behind them, Bryce choked on a laugh before she begged, "You are a free person- you do not have to do this. You are free, Lehabah." Yet Lehabah remained at the foot of the stairs. "Then let it be known that my first act of freedom was to help my friends.

I am a descendent of Ranthia Drahl, Queen of Embers. She is with me now and I am not afraid. My friends are behind me and I will defend them.

Athie is a slave with little left to lose.' 'Don't say such things, BB,' Lehabah hissed. 'There is always something left to lose.

I traded with Jesiba for your freedom last week. I have the papers in my desk. I wanted to throw a party for it- to surprise you.' The bathroom door began warping, bending. Bryce sobbed. 'I bought you and now I set you free, Lehabah.' Lehabah's smile didn't falter. 'I know,' she said. 'I peeked in your drawer.' And despite the monster trying to break loose behind them, Bryce choked on a laugh before she begged. 'You are a free person- you do not have to do this. You are free, Lehabah.' Yet Lehabah remained at the foot of the stairs. 'Then let the world know that my first act of freedom was to help my friends.

Danika paused in the gaping archway, atop the green carpeted steps that led down to the archives beneath the gallery—where the true treasure in this place lay, guarded by Lehabah day and night.

Lehabah had been guardian of the gallery’s library for decades. Logic insisted that ordering a fire sprite to watch over a library was a poor idea, but when a third of the books in the place would like nothing more than to escape, kill someone, or eat them—in varying orders—having a living flame keeping them in line was worth any risk.

Can’t we find some way out of this, Mr. Fancy Prince?” “Marc’s on it,” Dec said, holding up his phone. “He thinks you two might be able to use your royal sway to either commandeer them on behalf of the royal household or get the Astronomer to accept payment for them rather than press charges.” “Payment?” Bryce blurted. “Relax,” Flynn said, smirking. “We got the money, Princess.” “Yeah, I’ve seen your daddy’s fancy house,” Bryce quipped, earning a scowl from Flynn and an ooooooh from the sprites. Bryce suppressed her smile and lifted a brow to Ruhn. She’d fucked up one friendship thanks to pulling princess rank, but this…For Lehabah she’d do it. “You in, Chosen One?” Ruhn’s mouth quirked to the side. “Hel yeah, Starborn.

Bryce couldn’t stop the sob that wrenched its way out of her. “You’re free, Lehabah.” The words rippled through the library as Bryce wept. “I traded with Jesiba for your freedom last week. I have the papers in my desk. I wanted to throw a party for it—to surprise you.” The bathroom door began warping, bending. Bryce sobbed, “I bought you, and now I set you free, Lehabah.” Lehabah’s smile didn’t falter. “I know,” she said. “I peeked in your drawer.” And despite the monster trying to break loose behind them, Bryce choked on a laugh before she begged, “You are a free person—you do not have to do this. You are free, Lehabah.” Yet Lehabah remained at the foot of the stairs. “Then let the world know that my first act of freedom was to help my friends.” Syrinx shifted in Bryce’s arms, a low, pained sound breaking from him. Bryce thought it might be the sound her own soul was making as she whispered, unable to bear this choice, this moment, “I love you, Lehabah.” The only words that ever mattered. “And I will love you always, BB.” The fire sprite breathed, “Go.

—¿Sabes cómo se ve Hunt Athalar? —Considerando que está viviendo en la azotea enfrente de mi departamento, diría que sí. Lehabah presionó el botón de pausa en su programa y recargó la cabeza contra el respaldo de su silloncito. —Es hermoso. —Sí, pregúntale a él. Bryce cerró el correo que había estado leyendo, uno de unos cien que había intercambiado con Tertian, y el primero en el que él se le había un poco. —Hunt es suficientemente apuesto como para salir en este programa —dijo Lehabah y señaló con uno de los dedos de su pie hacia la tableta frente a ella. —Por desgracia, no creo que las diferencias de tamaño entre tú y Athalar permitieran que eso funcionara en la cama. Tú apenas tienes el tamaño para abrazarle el pene. Lehabah soltó una nubecilla de humo por la vergüenza. La duendecilla ondeó la mano para despejarla. —¡BB!

—Nos peleamos en una fiesta. Danaan todavía está resentido. La sonrisa de Bryce era la definición de una sonrisa de satisfacción. —¿Por qué pelearon? Ruhn dijo con brusquedad: —Porque él es un pendejo arrogante. —Igual—dijo Hunt y su boca se curvó para formar una media sonrisa. Bryce miró a Lehabah. —Los chicos y su competitividad. Lehabah emitió un sonidito muy propio. —Ni de cerca tan avanzados como nosotras. Ruhn puso los ojos en blanco y se sorprendió de ver que Athalar hacía lo mismo.

It had been stamped on her arm within moments of her birth, Lehabah had said. SPQM. It was inked on the flesh of every sprite—fire or water or earth, it didn’t matter. Punishment for joining the angels’ rebellion two hundred years ago, when the sprites had dared protest their status as peregrini. As Lowers. The Asteri had gone even further than their enslavement and torture of the angels. They’d decreed after the rebellion that every sprite—not only the ones who’d joined Shahar and her legion—would be enslaved, and cast from the House of Sky and Breath. All of their descendants would be wanderers and slaves, too. Forever. It was one of the more spectacularly fucked episodes of the Republic’s history.

They do like to hoard all their wealth, don’t they,” Lehabah said, eyeing Bryce. “Just like you, BB. Only spending on yourself, and never anything nice for me.” Bryce removed her foot. “Do I not buy you strawberry shisha every other week?” Lehabah crossed her arms. “That’s barely a gift.” “Says the sprite who hotboxes herself in that little glass dome and burns it all night and tells me not to bother her until she’s done.” She leaned back in her chair, smug as a cat, and Hunt nearly grinned again at the spark in her eyes. Bryce grabbed his phone from the table and snapped a photo of him before he could object. Then one of Lehabah. And another of Syrinx.

He says the bite marks on the torso aren’t consistent with sobek teeth. This person was already dead when they were dumped into the Istros. The sobek must have seen an easy meal and hauled it down to its lair to eat later.” She swallowed the dryness in her mouth and again looked at the body. A dryad female. Her chest cavity had been ripped open, heart and internal organs removed, and bite marks peppered— “These wounds look like the ones you got from the kristallos. And the mer’s lab figured this body was probably five days old, judging by the level of decay.” “The night we were attacked.” Bryce studied the analysis. “There was clear venom in the wounds. Tharion says he could feel it inside the corpse even before the mer did tests on it.” Most of those in the House of Many Waters could sense what flowed in someone’s body—illnesses and weaknesses and, apparently, venom. “But when they tested it …” She blew out a breath. “It negated magic.” It had to be the kristallos. Bryce cringed, reading on, “He looked into records of all unidentified bodies the mer found in the past couple years. They found two with identical wounds and this clear venom right around the time of …” She swallowed. “Around when Danika and the pack died. A dryad and a fox shifter male. Both reported missing. This month, they’ve found five with these marks and the venom. All reported missing, but a few weeks after the fact.” “So they’re people who might not have had many close friends or family,” Hunt said. “Maybe.” Bryce again studied the photograph. Made herself look at the wounds. Silence fell, interrupted only by the distant sounds of Lehabah’s show downstairs. She said quietly, “That’s not the creature that killed Danika.” Hunt ran a hand through his hair. “There might have been multiple kristallos—” “No,” she insisted, setting down the papers. “The kristallos isn’t what killed Danika.” Hunt’s brow furrowed. “You were on the scene, though. You saw it.” “I saw it in the hall, not in the apartment. Danika, the pack, and the other three recent victims were in piles.” She could barely stand to say it, to think about it again.

Bryce looked back to find Lehabah smiling softly. Still at the base of the stairs. “Let me do this for you, BB. For you, and for Syrinx.” Bryce couldn’t stop the sob that wrenched its way out of her. “You’re free, Lehabah.

Yet Lehabah remained at the foot of the stairs. “Then let the world know that my first act of freedom was to help my friends.” Syrinx shifted in Bryce’s arms, a low, pained sound breaking from him. Bryce thought it might be the sound her own soul was making as she whispered, unable to bear this choice, this moment, “I love you, Lehabah.

Your cousin is dreamy,' Lehabah sighed from her couch. 'I thought Athalar was your own true love,' Bryce said. 'Can't they both be?' 'Considering how terrible they are at sharing, I don't think it'll end well for any of you.

It had pained him to see them gathered around the TV earlier. Lehabah would have loved them. Lehabah should have been there, with them. With all of them.

Athie is a slave with little left to lose.” “Don’t say such things, BB,” Lehabah hissed. “There is always something left to lose.

Lehabah cast a warning simmer toward it, then wrapped Syrinx’s tail around herself like a fur shawl.

Lehabah would have loved them. Lehabah should have been there, with them. With all of them.

A female of pure flame. Or that was how she chose to appear. Not how Lehabah had been made of flame, with her body visible, but rather a female cloaked in it, only a flash of a bare wrist or an ankle or shoulder through the veil. She was humanoid, but that was all he could glean. She looked like one of the radical sun-priests who’d gone rogue and immolated themselves to be close to their god. Who are you? he asked. Who are you? she challenged. Not one hint of her face. I asked first. Her flame flared, as if in annoyance. But she said, The little black dog sleeps soundly on a wool blanket. Ruhn blew out a breath. There it was—the code phrase Cormac had given him to confirm her identity. He said, And the gray tabby cleans her paws by the light of the moon. Utter nonsense. But she said, I’m Agent Daybright, in case that wasn’t clear enough. Now…you are? Ruhn peered down at himself, swearing. He hadn’t thought to hide his body— But he found only a form of night and stars, galaxies and planets. As if his silhouette had been filled by them. He lifted a hand, not finding skin but the starry blanket of the sky covering his fingers. Had his mind instinctively shielded him? Or was this what he was, deep below the skin? Was this fire-being standing thirty feet down the mental bridge what she was, deep below her own skin?

—Athie hablaría conmigo de esto. —Athie es un esclavo que no tiene mucho que perder. —No digas esas cosas, BB —siseó Lehabah—. Siempre hay algo que perder.

—¿Qué hacemos ahora? Bryce frunció el ceño. —¿A qué te refieres? Lehabah se abrazó y flotó en el aire. —¿Regresamos a la normalidad? —Sí. Sus ojos relucientes miraron los de Bryce. —¿Qué es normal, a fin de cuentas? —A mí me suena aburrido.

My friends are with me and I am not afraid" -Lehabah descendant of Ranthia Drahl, Queen of Embers

Fancy,” he said as Day draped herself over it. She looked so much like Lehabah that his chest ached. “Seeing me like this causes you distress.” “No,” he said, puzzled as to how she’d read his emotions when night and stars covered his features. “No, it’s … I, ah, lost a friend a few months ago. She loved to sit on a couch like that one. She was a fire sprite, so your whole fire thing … struck a little close to home.” She angled her head, flame shifting with her. “How did she die?” He checked himself before he could reveal too much. “It’s a long story. But she died saving my—someone I love.” “Then her death was noble.” “I should have been there.” Ruhn leaned back against the cushions and gazed toward the endless black above them. “She didn’t need to make that sacrifice.” “You would have traded your life for a fire sprite’s?” There was no condescension in the question—merely bald curiosity. “Yeah. I would have.” He lowered his stare back to her. “Anyway, we made the intel drop-off. Nearly got caught, but we did it.” She straightened slightly. “By whom?” “Mordoc. The Hind. The Harpy.” She stilled. Her fire guttered to that violet blue. “They are lethal. If you’re caught, you will be lucky to just be killed.

Thanks for your time.” But Bryce didn’t move. Her face had gone stony. “Where’s the green and sunlight you showed me? Was that another comforting lie?” “You saw what you wished to see.” Bryce’s lips went white with rage. “Where’s the Pack of Devils?” “You are not entitled to speak to them.” “Is Lehabah here?” “I do not know of one with such a name.” “A fire sprite. Died three months ago. Is she here?” “Fire sprites do not come to the Bone Quarter. The Lowers are of no use.” Hunt arched a brow. “No use for what?” The Under-King smiled again—perhaps a shade ruefully. “Comforting lies, remember?” Bryce pressed, “Did Danika Fendyr say anything to you before she … vanished this spring?” “You mean before she traded her soul to save yours, as you did with your own.

Hunt lifted a finger for her to perch on. 'Shall we?

Why does she collect us all?' the sprite whispered. 'Am I not a person, too?

We just go back to normal?' 'Yes.' Her flickering eyes met Bryce. 'What is normal, anyway?' 'Seems boring to me?

It snapped for his fingers, and Ithan lunged again. “Lehabah was much more effective—and ate far less. Where does all that food go, wolf?

Bryce glanced back—just once. To the friend who had stayed by her when no one else had. Who had refused to be anything but cheerful, even in the face of the darkness that had swallowed Bryce whole. Lehabah burned a deep, unfaltering ruby and began to move. First, a sweep of her arm upward. Then an arc down. A twirl, hair spiraling above her head. A dance, to summon her power. Whatever kernel of it a fire sprite might have. A glow spread along Lehabah’s body. So Bryce climbed. And with each painful step upward, she could hear Lehabah whisper, almost chanting, “I am a descendant of Ranthia Drahl, Queen of Embers. She is with me now and I am not afraid.” Bryce reached the top of the stairs. Lehabah whispered, “My friends are behind me, and I will protect them.” Screaming, Bryce shoved the library door. Until it clanged shut, the enchantments sealing, cutting off Lehabah’s voice with it, and Bryce leaned against it, sliding to the floor as she sobbed through her teeth.

Lehabah had offered Bryce the two extra seconds needed to kill an Archangel. Micah exploded out of the iron door. Metal embedded in the wood paneling of the gallery. The Governor whirled toward the open front door. To the trap Bryce had laid in opening it. So he wouldn’t look up. So he didn’t have time to even glance in Bryce’s direction before her finger curled on the trigger. And she shot that bullet right through Micah’s fucking head.

where Lehabah still moved, still summoned her power, repeating the words over and over: “I am a descendant of Ranthia Drahl, Queen of Embers. She is with me now and I am not afraid.

I am a descendant of Ranthia Drahl, Queen of Embers. She is with me now and I am not afraid.” Lehabah glowed, bright as the heart of a star. “My friends are behind me, and I will protect them.” The top of the bathroom door began to curl open. And Lehabah unleashed her power. Three blows. Perfectly aimed. Not to the bathroom door and Archangel behind it. No, Lehabah couldn’t slow Micah. But a hundred thousand gallons of water would. Lehabah’s shimmering blasts of power slammed into the glass tank. Right on top of the crack that Bryce had made when the nøkk threw her into it. The creature, sensing the commotion, rose from the rocks. And recoiled in horror as Lehabah struck again. Again. The glass cracked further. And then Lehabah hurled herself against it. Pushed her tiny body against the crack. She kept whispering the words over and over again. They morphed together into one sentence, a prayer, a challenge. “My friends are with me and I am not afraid.” Hunt wrested control of his body enough that he was able to put a hand over his heart. The only salute he could make as Lehabah’s words whispered through the speakers. “My friends are with me and I am not afraid.” One by one, the angels in the 33rd rose to their feet. Then Ruhn and his friends. And they, too, put their hands on their hearts as the smallest of their House pushed and pushed against the glass wall, burning gold as the nøkk tried to flee to any place it might survive what was about to come. Over and over, Lehabah whispered, “My friends are with me and I am not afraid.” The glass spiderwebbed. Everyone in the conference room rose to their feet. Only Sandriel, her attention fixed on the screen, did not notice. They all stood, and bore witness to the sprite who brought her death down upon herself, upon the nøkk—to save her friends. It was all they could offer her, this final respect and honor. Lehabah still pushed. Still shook with terror. Yet she did not stop. Not for one heartbeat. “My friends are with me and I am not afraid.” The bathroom door tore open, metal curling aside to reveal Micah, glowing as if newly forged, as if he’d rend this world apart. He surveyed the library, eyes landing on Lehabah and the cracked tank wall. The sprite whirled, back pressed against the glass. She hissed at Micah, “This is for Syrinx.” She slammed her little burning palm into the glass. And a hundred thousand gallons of water exploded into the library.

Lehabah was dead. Bryce’s fingers curled into claws at her side. The red light of the warning alarms washed over her vision. She welcomed the synth into her heart. Every destructive, raging, frozen ounce of it. Bryce crawled for the front door, broken glass tinkling. Power, hollow and cold, thrummed at her fingertips. She grabbed the handle and hoisted herself upright. Yanked the door open to the golden light of late afternoon. But she did not go through it. That was not what Lehabah had bought her time to do.

Bryce walked calmly to the hidden supply closet. Pulled out a red plastic container. And dumped the entire gallon of gasoline on the Governor’s dismembered corpse. “Holy fuck,” Ruhn whispered, over and over. “Holy fuck.” The rest of the room didn’t so much as breathe too loudly. Even Sandriel had no words as Bryce grabbed a pack of matches from a drawer in her desk. She struck one, and tossed it onto the Governor’s body. Flames erupted. The fireproofing enchantments on the art around her shimmered. There would be no chance of salvation. Of healing. Not for Micah. Not after what he had done to Danika Fendyr. To the Pack of Devils. And Lehabah. Bryce stared at the fire, her face still splattered with the Archangel’s blood. And finally, she lifted her eyes. Right to the camera. To the world watching. Vengeance incarnate. Wrath’s bruised heart. She would bow for no one. Hunt’s lightning sang at the sight of that brutal, beautiful face. Time sped up, the flames devouring Micah’s body, crisping his wings to cinders. They spat him out as ashes. Sirens wailed outside the gallery as the Auxiliary pulled up at last. Bryce slammed the front door shut as the first of the Fae units and wolf packs appeared. No one, not even Sandriel, spoke a word as Bryce took out the vacuum from the supply closet. And erased the last trace of Micah from the world.

There was no trace of Lehabah in the mostly submerged library. Not even a smudge of ash.

Hunt knew Lehabah was killed instantly, as surely as a torch plunged into a bucket of water.

I love you, Lehabah.” The only words that ever mattered. “And I will love you always, BB.