sighed, nodded. “Very well.” Words of acceptance uttered in a tone that was anything but.
“You will do your duty?” What he was really asking: Will you slay Aeron, keeper of Wrath, whether you want to or not? Lysander wasn’t asking more of her than he had done himself. He wasn’t asking what he wouldn’t do himself.
Another nod. One of those tears slid down her cheek.
He reached out and captured the glistening drop with the tip of his finger. “Your compassion is admirable, and it’s an admirable thing, it is, but I do wish you had none right now.”
She waved his words away. Perhaps because she knew there was nothing she could do to change, or perhaps because Lysander could use some of that compassion right now. “So who was the woman in your home? The one in the portraits?”
He...blushed? Yes, that was the heat spreading over his cheeks. “My...” How should he explain Bianka? How could he, without lying?
“Lover?” she finished for him.
His cheeks flushed with more of that heat. “No.” Maybe. No! “She is my captive.” There. Truthful without giving away any details. “And now,” he said, standing. If she could end a subject, so could he. “I must return to her before she causes any more trouble.” He must deal with her. Once and for all.
* * *
Olivia remained in place long after Lysander left. Had that blushing, uncertain, distracted man truly been her mentor? She’d known him for centuries, and he’d always been unflappable. Even in the heat of battle.
The woman was responsible, she was sure. Lysander had never kept one in his cloud before. Did he feel for her what Olivia felt for Aeron?
Aeron.
Just thinking his name sent a shiver down her spine, filling her with a need to see him. And just like that, she was on her feet, her wings outstretched.
“I wish to leave,” she said, and the floor softened, turning to mist. Down she fell, wings flapping gracefully. She was careful to avoid eye contact with the other Sent Ones flying through the sky as she headed into Budapest. They knew her destination; they even knew what she did there.
Some watched her with pity, some with concern—as Lysander had. Some watched her with antipathy. By avoiding their gazes, she ensured no one would stop her and try and talk sense into her. She ensured she wouldn’t have to lie. Something she hated to do. Lies tasted disgustingly bitter.
Long ago, during her training, Lysander had commanded her to tell a lie. She would never forget the vile flood of acid in her mouth the moment she’d obeyed. Never again did she wish to experience such a thing. But to be with Aeron...maybe.
His dark menacing fortress was perched high on a mountain and finally came into view. Her heart rate increased exponentially. Because she existed on another plane, she was able to drift through the stone walls as if they were not even there. Soon she was standing inside Aeron’s bedroom.
He was polishing a gun. His little demon friend, Legion, the one he’d helped escape from hell, was darting and writhing around him, a pink boa twirling with her.
“Dance with me,” the creature beseeched.
That was dancing? That kind of heaving was what humans did as they were dying.
“I can’t. I’ve got to patrol the town tonight, searching for Hunters.”
Hunters, sworn enemy of the Lords. They hoped to find Pandora’s box and draw the demons out of the immortal warriors, killing each man. The Lords, in turn, hoped to find Pandora’s box and destroy it—the same way they hoped to destroy the Hunters.
“Me hate Huntersss,” Legion said, “but we needsss practice for Doubtie’sss wedding.”
“I won’t be dancing at Sabin’s wedding, therefore practice isn’t necessary.”
Legion stilled, frowned. “But we dance at the wedding. Like a couple.” Her thin lips curved downward. Was she...pouting? “Pleassse. We ssstill got time to practice. Dark not come for hoursss.”
“As soon as I finish cleaning my weapons, I
“You will do your duty?” What he was really asking: Will you slay Aeron, keeper of Wrath, whether you want to or not? Lysander wasn’t asking more of her than he had done himself. He wasn’t asking what he wouldn’t do himself.
Another nod. One of those tears slid down her cheek.
He reached out and captured the glistening drop with the tip of his finger. “Your compassion is admirable, and it’s an admirable thing, it is, but I do wish you had none right now.”
She waved his words away. Perhaps because she knew there was nothing she could do to change, or perhaps because Lysander could use some of that compassion right now. “So who was the woman in your home? The one in the portraits?”
He...blushed? Yes, that was the heat spreading over his cheeks. “My...” How should he explain Bianka? How could he, without lying?
“Lover?” she finished for him.
His cheeks flushed with more of that heat. “No.” Maybe. No! “She is my captive.” There. Truthful without giving away any details. “And now,” he said, standing. If she could end a subject, so could he. “I must return to her before she causes any more trouble.” He must deal with her. Once and for all.
* * *
Olivia remained in place long after Lysander left. Had that blushing, uncertain, distracted man truly been her mentor? She’d known him for centuries, and he’d always been unflappable. Even in the heat of battle.
The woman was responsible, she was sure. Lysander had never kept one in his cloud before. Did he feel for her what Olivia felt for Aeron?
Aeron.
Just thinking his name sent a shiver down her spine, filling her with a need to see him. And just like that, she was on her feet, her wings outstretched.
“I wish to leave,” she said, and the floor softened, turning to mist. Down she fell, wings flapping gracefully. She was careful to avoid eye contact with the other Sent Ones flying through the sky as she headed into Budapest. They knew her destination; they even knew what she did there.
Some watched her with pity, some with concern—as Lysander had. Some watched her with antipathy. By avoiding their gazes, she ensured no one would stop her and try and talk sense into her. She ensured she wouldn’t have to lie. Something she hated to do. Lies tasted disgustingly bitter.
Long ago, during her training, Lysander had commanded her to tell a lie. She would never forget the vile flood of acid in her mouth the moment she’d obeyed. Never again did she wish to experience such a thing. But to be with Aeron...maybe.
His dark menacing fortress was perched high on a mountain and finally came into view. Her heart rate increased exponentially. Because she existed on another plane, she was able to drift through the stone walls as if they were not even there. Soon she was standing inside Aeron’s bedroom.
He was polishing a gun. His little demon friend, Legion, the one he’d helped escape from hell, was darting and writhing around him, a pink boa twirling with her.
“Dance with me,” the creature beseeched.
That was dancing? That kind of heaving was what humans did as they were dying.
“I can’t. I’ve got to patrol the town tonight, searching for Hunters.”
Hunters, sworn enemy of the Lords. They hoped to find Pandora’s box and draw the demons out of the immortal warriors, killing each man. The Lords, in turn, hoped to find Pandora’s box and destroy it—the same way they hoped to destroy the Hunters.
“Me hate Huntersss,” Legion said, “but we needsss practice for Doubtie’sss wedding.”
“I won’t be dancing at Sabin’s wedding, therefore practice isn’t necessary.”
Legion stilled, frowned. “But we dance at the wedding. Like a couple.” Her thin lips curved downward. Was she...pouting? “Pleassse. We ssstill got time to practice. Dark not come for hoursss.”
“As soon as I finish cleaning my weapons, I
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