“For now,” he replied, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “Then again, I’d never complain about an excuse to taste you, especially when it’s mixed with caffeine.”
His words sent a faint warmth up my neck, my cheeks betraying me before I could look away.
“Bastian!” Noah’s voice rang out from across the hall. “I think I may have found something about your affinity. How do you feel about the concept of creating blood constructs?”
Oh, Creator.
“Like blood soldiers?” Gabe asked, horror flickering across his face. Steele looked intrigued, because of course he did, as the commander of the fallen army.
Bastian lit up like a megawatt lightbulb, his grin instant and feral. He caught me by the waist, stole a quick kiss, then vanished across the training yard toward Noah’s pile of books.
I turned to tell Steele we should start again, but a sudden shadow fell over me. I spun to find Niz standing there, shifted into his human form and completely relaxed, like he hadn’t just materialized out of thin air. How did I miss him landingandshifting?
“I’m not sure that’s a very good idea,” Niz murmured, his gaze on Bastian and Noah.
“What—Bastian creating an army out of blood?” I sighed. “Yeah, could be a problem.” Tilting my head up, I offered him a small smile. “How are you doing? Did your parents make it back okay?”
“Yeah, I received word this morning from an envoy,” he said. “They took most of the wyvern council home after the summit. My mother and father are figuring out how to rebuild the trade networks and decide who to send out here regularly.”
“So some wyvern stayed behind?”
“A few,” he said. “Mostly soldiers who can help if a fight breaks out, as well as members of my command teams. Astor’s joint-post assignments along Alfemir’s walls are working for now, but it’s a delicate balance, and everyone’s pretending not to be terrified.”
Steele’s voice carried easily through the open space. “It’s necessary. If the upper triads move again, we’ll need a unified front.”
Niz shrugged, gaze tilting toward the light streaming through the glass. “Absolutely. But old habits die hard. My people won’t easily forget centuries spent hiding from those who hunted them, even with my parents’ influence and their push for change.”
“We need to make sure they’re comfortable working together,” I said, my brow creasing at the prospect of such a difficult feat. “Not just angels and wyvern, but the fallen too.”
“I don’t disagree,” Steele said with a nod before offering his own update. “The Rebellion’s in a good spot for now that they’ve fortified the main camp with help from Bastian. However, we’re preparing for units to move up here to assist, should the triads come.”
“So they’re ready to fight alongside those in Alfemir if needed?” Ronan asked, stepping closer to join the rest of us.
“Yes,” Steele said. “But they’re also ready to rebuild and to talk about what that means. The council’s fractured on how to proceed, but many of them still have roots here. Family lines, old homes, things they lost when they fell. I never had a life in Alfemir, but I can understand the pull to reclaim one.”
Gabe pushed off the pillar and spoke up. “It feels good knowing at least one threat’s handled. It’s strange being back here, though, speaking as someone who did have a life here. I know this was our goal all along, but training here now—like we never fell—it feels surreal.”
“I can imagine,” Steele agreed. “But we have to remember that winning the battle here doesn’t mean safety. We have to stay ready.”
“Good,” Niz muttered, tone dry. “Wouldn’t want life to get boring.”
Ronan gave a quiet chuckle. “You say that like you didn’t spend half the day napping and flying in circles.”
“I was meditating. Mid-flight,” Niz offered in a deadpan tone.
Gabe’s mouth twitched. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Steele actually laughed—a low, rare sound that rumbled through the space—and the moment made my chest loosen. For a breath, the weight of our world eased.
When Noah’s voice carried across the room, calm but purposeful, it pulled our attention back. “There’s only so many hours left in the day. You may want to get back to it.”
The shift was seamless. Energy moved through the space again, steady and focused, as everyone returned to their drills. Only Steele and I moved to the center of the room as the others settled back into rhythm around us.
“Let’s continue with some new sets of combinations,” Steele muttered, still sounding uncertain.
We sat across from one another on the floor. I rested my arm on my crossed legs, and his hand closed around my wrist, firm and familiar. He studied the open space along the inside of my arm for a long moment before going to work.
His movements were precise, methodical. Two half-runes took shape beneath his touch, their opposing lines twisting intosomething that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did. I couldn’t look away. The artistry of his work was beautiful.
