Zia raked me up and down, everywhere she had healed earlier in the day. “Do I need to?”
Conceding a little laugh, I leaned back in my chair, swirling my tumbler. Even though I had been here first, I felt like an intruder on the balcony. I itched to retreat, but my half-assed excuses refused to take form. Zia gazed up at the night sky.
“Stars, it’s like a dream out here,” she said.
I hummed. “Somehow, I doubt Delilah’s gonna list this place for vacation rentals any time soon, but I wouldn’t mind a view like this more often. I bet sunrise is really something else.”
“You’re not planning to stay all through the night, are you? When did you last sleep?”
“I don’t mind. I’m used to burning the midnight oil. Someone’s got to keep watch.”
She chuckled. “I suppose I can’t blame a hunter for trusting his eyes over a witch’s wards.”
If only that were the whole truth. Sure, I could blame paranoia, but that was a drop in the bucket compared to everything else rattling in my mind. How could I explain the numbness that gripped me like a vise and made sleeping impossible? Zia was a near-stranger—the last person who needed to hear about how I saw my father’s ruthless sneer when I closed my eyes, his hand outstretched to receive me back.
Whenever I inevitably fell unconscious, I knew there would be fire behind my eyelids. A burning truck. A smoke-filled forest. The place where I’d left him.
The right choice.
But even the best choices had consequences. Whether he was pronounced dead or comatose, Mom would probably be too numbed on Xanax and lemon drops to feel anything. But when the news reached Anna…
I swallowed hard. This was all too fucking much.
My attention fell back to Zia while she was still distracted by the star-pierced sky. I tried to steal details that could be added to her sketch if I didn’t end up shredding it. Maybe the desk drawer in my magic guest room would give up some colored pencils next, but could I hope to do her hair justice? The long, elegant locks were intricately braided, carrying more shades of green than I’d noticed before. Her clothes looked light as air, remarkably different from Sylvia’s tactical leggings and fitted tops. The fabric flowed off Zia’s frame like water, slits in her skirt revealing large swathes of skin like moonlight.
She looked so goddamn delicate perched before me—like an otherworldly, sexy Barbie.
A little color heated my cheeks as I set the tumbler aside. Ihadto be drunk enough if the wordssexy Barbiehad crossed my mind.
Get a grip.
“Your wings look better,” I blurted, just to have something to say. “You, uh…healed them good.”
Healed them good. What the hell was that, you fucking moron?
But Zia didn’t laugh at my expense. “Once the iron was gone, my power returned with a hunger.”
Another breeze pushed in around us, making her hair whip around her shoulders and her wings shiver. A dark patch of skin caught my eye; it stretched from just below the nape of her neck to the roots of her upper wings.
A painfully familiarEmade of scar tissue.
I couldn’t stop the choked noise that escaped me.
Zia turned her head suddenly and caught me gaping. The corners of her mouth lifted, but I swiveled my head away before I could see whether she was smiling or grimacing at my attention.
“I’m sorry about the mark,” I croaked, knowing she would have healed it if it were in her ability. Apparently, even all-powerful nobles were no match against iron.
“That isn’t your apology to make,” she said gently.
Slowly, I dared to look at her again, forcing myself to hold her gaze. She didn’t flinch, not even a little. Most fairies I’d encountered hadn’t been so pleasant, despite the cute packaging. They’d either tried to scorch me alive on sight or sacrifice me to sirens. Hazel seemed to be following her sister’s lead on warming up to me, but Sylvia had always been a little crazy to begin with.
Zia’s ease felt entirely unearned.
“I don’t get you,” I muttered.
“What’s to get?”
“The fuck are you doing out here, for starters?”
