Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
There was no telling how long they’d been walking. Seven hours? Ten? Already the evening was quickly approaching, and the cold that sank into Aurelie’s bones was cruel and gnawing. She pulled her cloak tighter, covering her mouth to try to warm herself with her own hot breath.
Think of your father, she reminded herself. Think of Azriel, and all the lives that will be spared with this cure.
A gust of wind cut through the trees, knocking off her hood. She clamped it back down with a hiss. Light, why couldn’t it be summer?
Overhead, clouds were knitting together, thick and gray as a storm brewed.
Beside her, Yuri walked with his wings wrapped around him, a natural barrier against the wind.
“Do those keep you warm?” she asked, envious despite how ridiculous he looked.
He opened his mouth to answer when Severin interrupted. “Hardly.” He walked ahead of them, wearing a remarkable black cloak with a fur collar and red fabric on the interior. “The pigeon is likely freezing his ass off.”
Tempering himself, the angel exhaled a slow breath. “Remind me again why you had to bond with this fool?”
A cure, she told herself, over and over again. We’re here for the cure.
“I’m here because I’m a genius who will change this world,” Severin began with great flourish. “And, of course, for the entertainment.” His smile grew coy as he swung a lute from his back with the same flair one might unsheathe a blade.
Yuri groaned. “Must you?”
But it was already too late. Severin struck a few lazy chords, tilted his head as he tested the sound, then launched into a jaunty melody far too cheerful for the miserable gray sky.
“A holy bird with silver eyes,
Stiff with pride and virtue,
He preaches peace, but don’t be fooled—
He’ll stab a man if churchmen urge to.”
Yuri shot Severin a withering glare. “You know you’re announcing our presence to everyone around us, right?”
“I’ll make it so only the two of you can hear me.” The demon grinned and kept playing, strolling ahead.
“He’s never kissed a woman’s thigh,
Nor traced the curve below her hip,
He prays so hard his collar’s tight—
He’d faint to see a ti—”
Yuri’s hand shot out. The strings let out a sharp, discordant twang as he seized the neck of the lute. “That’s quite enough. You’re not a bard.”
“I could be,” Severin challenged. “I have range.”
Annoyance pulsed like venom through the bond. “What you have is nerve.”
“Also that,” Severin agreed. “Would you like a song about your wings next? I have one that rhymes feathered with pleasured.”
Yuri didn’t answer but for the sound of his teeth grinding.
The demon drew a step back, nudging up beside Aurelie.
“A song for the maiden, perhaps?” he asked, plucking out a new rhythm, velvety and coaxing.
“She’s sharp as steel but soft as smoke,
With prideful lips and eyes that—”
“Choke,” Aurelie said before she could stop herself.
He glanced back, delighted. “That wasn’t the word I had in mind, but I like yours better. Let’s go with that.”
Yuri muttered something that sounded like a prayer for patience.
Severin kept going, the song shifting beneath his fingers. Aurelie, however, decided it was time to steal the tune right from under his hands. The moment he opened his mouth to sing, she took over.
“The demon sings in verse and lies in sheets,
Sips holy wine and calls it sweet.
He’ll toast your name, then steal your kiss
and blame the bottle for the bliss.”
He let the lute fall silent, watching her as if she were a page he hadn’t expected to find in his book. A warm delight radiated up through the bond, slow and indulgent. Its heat curled around her ribs and made her skin prickle. “Didn’t think you had that in you, songbird.”
She swallowed, throat tight. “My mother was a bard. I wanted to become one, too.”
“So why didn’t you?” He let his lute drop and twisted the strap so that it hung from his back.
Aurelie lifted a finger to her white hair, staring at the strands she curled around her finger. “I’m a Chantelune. It was never a possibility.”
He frowned as he looked her over. “If you say so.”
Yuri lingered a few steps behind, the stiff line of his shoulders betraying the tension beneath his careful facade. “How far is our journey, exactly?” he asked, his voice clipped as he looked between the two. “Vexara?”
They’d been following the vesper all day, though she was as elusive as smoke.
Yuri had healed her wings, and now she appeared only in fleeting glimpses, darting ahead to steer them in the right direction before vanishing again into the gray woods.
Aurelie half expected her to disappear altogether, but Vex reappeared when she was called, her wings thrumming like a hummingbird’s.
“Who’s to say,” she offered in that tinny voice of hers. “The dead angels lie deep in the woods. An easy journey for a vesper, but on foot?” Vex frowned at them, looking at their boots as if for emphasis before she giggled and flitted away.
“A sound answer,” Severin murmured after her, the same time as Yuri groaned and ran his hands down his face.
“Frivolous creature,” lamented the angel. “That Luminel is no better than the Nyxaris.”
“I heard that,” came Vex’s voice, faint and distant.
Aurelie grimaced. “Can they always hear us?”
“Only when they feel like listening, which is precisely the problem.”
“Are Luminels and the Nyxaris truly that different?”
“They were once, many years ago,” he said. “But Vex is the first Luminel I’ve seen in a long while.”
Aurelie burrowed deeper into her cloak. She didn’t mind Vex, though the idea of a creature whose words and emotions could steer her own was unnerving. “Speaking of the vespers, shouldn’t we have seen more by now? I don’t hear any.”
“Oh, they’re out there,” Severin said. Suddenly his hand pressed to her shoulder, fingers skimming the bare skin at her neck. She shivered at their chill, then at the sudden rush of sound, a flood of voices unraveling and stealing her breath.
“Try listening again,” he whispered, his voice like silk. “Focus.”
Yuri’s attention snapped toward them, annoyance striking like lightning in Aurelie’s chest. His feathers rustled in protest.
“Unhand her, demon.”
Severin smiled, drawing her against his chest and resting his chin atop her head.
“Are you jealous, Pigeon?” he taunted. “It’s not as if we’ve any better ways to pass the time. Besides, our powers work best when we’re touching, and she’ll be a stronger fighter if she can harness magic. You should wipe your clammy hands and teach her yours, too.”
Yuri’s teeth clicked together with audible annoyance.
“It’s a good idea, Yuri,” Aurelie admitted. “We’re all more vulnerable now that we’re bonded, and I’m the weakest link. At the very least, I need to understand how to use the magic I have access to.”
He seemed to realize she was right, though resentment rippled from him all the same.
“Fine,” he said with reluctance, glaring at the hand Severin still had curled around her shoulder. “But we keep moving. And don’t try anything funny, demon.”
Severin’s grin stretched wide. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned back, and Aurelie knew full well that he had no reason to lean in as close as he did, his breath hot against her ear. She could feel the smugness within him. The gloating as he basked in his ability to irk the angel.
She sighed, hoping it wouldn’t be like this for their entire journey.
“What do you hear?” Severin asked at last, his words hot against her ear.
She shut her eyes, wading through the initial rush of sound—easy things, like the calls of crows and the restless threading of wind through the trees, prying at her cloak.
The longer she listened, the more she could pick out the strange, tinny surge of voices all around them, their words layering over one another, overlapping until they became impossible to decipher.
“I hear the vespers,” she breathed, her voice catching in disbelief. “Light, I really hear them.”
“Good,” Severin purred, his voice a low, indulgent rumble. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”
Yuri had stilled beside them to observe, and she could feel the pull of his curiosity even if he didn’t dare admit it.
“You can understand their words?” she asked, squinting one eye open to peer at the demon standing much too close. At the very least, he was keeping her warm.
“Each and every one.” Severin brushed a hand over her eyes. “The language of the vespers isn’t lost to us. You just need to know how to listen.”
Aurelie pushed his hand away, opening both eyes this time. “Is this how you knew about the dead angels?”
“Yes.” Irritation edged his words. “The vespers whisper all sorts of secrets, if you know how to stop talking and listen.”
He covered her eyes again. Curious, she let the demon’s power consume her as she focused her attention on the vespers. All other sound fell away, making their voices louder, sharper. Light, it sounded like they were right beside her.
Several were arguing about which tree belonged to whom.
Others spoke of Rhovar, or of demons prowling the woods.
The name Kieran was spoken several times, as well as her own.
There was talk of a hybrid, too, and of fire.
Unfortunately, the words were still too muddled for her to understand their context.
“You’ll learn soon enough,” Severin said, sensing her frustration. “It takes time to sort through the noise.”
She released her hold on the power, dizziness crashing over her. Yuri turned at her discomfort, his hand half-raised to help steady her before hesitating.
“Aurelie.” He spoke her name breathlessly. “What’s happened to your eye?”
She stiffened, confused. Her hand went instinctively to her face, but she felt no pain. Aside from the dizziness, her vision was the same as ever.
“There’s no need to fuss,” Severin said, taking her hand and easing it down. “It happened the last time you used my magic, too.”
“What happened?” she demanded. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled just as Yuri said, “One of them has begun to turn red.”
“Red?” She blinked, then turned and smacked the demon on the chest. “That’s not ‘nothing’!”
Severin shrugged, scratching lazily at the spot she’d hit. “I thought it suited you.”
“Looking like a demon most certainly does not suit me. Which eye is it?”
“The right.” The angel stepped closer, bending to inspect her face more closely.
Aurelie stiffened as he hooked a finger beneath her chin, tilting it up.
His touch was delicate, and this close, all she could focus on was the gentle curve of his lips and the paleness of his brows as they pulled together in concern.
He was so beautiful that she forgot to breathe.
As if sensing her awe, he drew quickly away. “It’s not the whole eye, and the good news is that it’s already fading.”
“The even better news,” Severin cut in, “is that when a bond is powerful, a human will sometimes take on attributes of their bonded. Which means it’s exactly as I suspected, knightling. You and I make a good match.”
And just what does that say about me?
The thought made her queasy.
Severin tipped his head back to grin at Yuri. “Seems like she prefers me, birdbrain.”
Yuri’s wings furrowed. “She and I haven’t gotten more than five minutes alone,” he said defensively. Then, as if realizing that he was arguing with a demon, he scowled. “Besides, this is just another sign she shouldn’t use your blasphemous magic. She’ll turn into one of you if she’s not careful.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a delight?” Severin asked. “Because if so, you should know they were lying. And that they probably felt bad for you.”
Yuri drew a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One day, demon, I swear I will find a way to kill you.”
“I thought angels didn’t swear?” Severin cocked his head, a cold darkness brewing within him. Aurelie sucked in a breath, the weight of it pressing against her ribs.
“That’s quite enough,” she warned, the tension in the air holding until he winked at the angel and peeled away.
They walked in silence for a long while, the clouds thickening.
It wasn’t long before she felt the first drop of rain.
The storm pressed in, the skeletal branches shuddering beneath sudden, fearsome gales.
It swallowed the sky with startling speed, smearing the last threads of sunlight into gray as thunder roared in the distance.
Aurelie wiped a damp streak from her forehead and scanned the forest. It’d begun to blur, shadows bleeding into one another.
Yuri was frowning, and Aurelie felt a stab of uncertainty flaring within him as he held his wings close.
“We should find shelter,” he said, to which Severin’s jaw tensed. Nerves clung to him, unusual enough for the demon that Aurelie took notice.
“We’re not alone in these woods,” he warned. “There’s a demon camp not far from here, and I can’t say they like me much.”
“Really?” Yuri drawled. “I can’t fathom why.”
Severin ignored him. His eyes went glassy, distant, as rain began falling in earnest. Just a drizzle at first, but soon it was coming at them sideways, seeping through seams and soaking the inside of her boots.
The eyes on Yuri’s wings squinted shut against the water that began to pelt them, and Aurelie flinched each time they did.
The demon seemed to be listening past the storm, searching. Eventually he blinked clarity back into his eyes, and as he turned toward the others, his horns disappeared, the red of his eyes fading.
“There’s a human village near here,” he said finally, nodding them toward the north. “Let’s hope we can find shelter there.”