His eyes roved across her again … but this time it was searching instead of hungry. Like he was checking her for more evidence of injury.
He would see nothing beneath the long sleeves of her dress.
She was fully clothed, and yet in his gaze … she couldn’t help feeling like she did in the bathhouse.
Like she was utterly bare before him.
‘The injuries are part of the job,’ she said, trying to keep a rein on herself. ‘And nothing Alaris can’t fix.’
She’d grown stronger when it came to pain.
It was temporary. It was …
Strangely liberating. Because each time she trudged her way to Alaris’shealing room, it reminded her that she’d done something worth the healing.
It reminded her that she was fully alive.
But nothing compared to this, right now.
With her hand in his … and his fingertips on her waist.
‘She won’t fly,’ Ezer said, and almost yelped as Arawn spun her wildly, dipping her down before lifting her up again so that their gazes met. So that she practically collided against him, chest to chest.
‘Perhaps she’s just not ready to,’ Arawn said. ‘They’re her wings, after all. She can decide what to do with them.’
‘Your father will kill her if we fail,’ Ezer said, softly enough that only he could hear. ‘And probably me, too.’
His hand curled tighter over her waist.
His blue eyes hardened beneath his mask.
‘Then don’t let him,’ Arawn said. She noticed he did not argue about the punishment. And by now, she’d taken note of how many other Sacred had penance marks. It seemed that the more they had, the more they carried themselves with a certain stiffness … as if they feared stepping an inch out of line. ‘Find a way.’
He never dropped her gaze, even as he expertly skirted past the other Sacred.
As if he saw only her.
They went past Kinlear. He took a goblet and tilted his head back as if to down it in one sip, then grabbed the hand of a beautiful Watermage in royal blue.
‘Do you know what bothers me most?’ Ezer asked as she snapped her head away from Kinlear. ‘I’msupposedlySacred, but I am neither a Knight nor a Scribe nor a Null, so I’m not even qualified to be a servant. I cannot invocate. And yet here I am … dressed in white like I belong here.’
She hadn’t meant to say it.
But the words had simply tumbled out.
‘I’m Unconsecrated, unclaimed, which makes me broken, or …’
‘Broken things are beautiful, too,’ Arawn said.
So softly, she almost didn’t hear it.
Shehad never been called beautiful.
That word …
The music ended before she could let it settle against her soul, before she couldbelieveit. And then he released her. They were at the edge of the crowd, standing before the wall of glass.
He lifted his own hand, whispered an invocation … and brought a tiny golden flame upon his palm. It was larger than a candle’s flame, but still not enough to destroy a darksoul.
