Page 80 of Angel Lost

I shrug. “Do you see what I mean? It’s not what Camille says.”

Zephyr staggers and I catch his arm. He’s gray and slick with sweat; there’s a fine tremor in the hand I’m holding.

“Z? What’s wrong?” I peer up at him, wiping his beautiful hair out of his face. “Talk to me, Zephyr. You’re frightening me.”

“Fine,” he croaks. “I’m fine. Just took more than I expected. Seeing the past, it’s not normally done milliseconds after the event. And aether and angels do not mix.” He blows out a breath. “Wooooof, that was rough. I need a drink.”

Relief floods through me as his color creeps back. He squeezes my hand, and I peer down, surprised I’m still holding on to him.

“I see what you mean, Lori,” he says. “You’re not going to cause a rip that way.”

Throwing my arms around his neck, I smother him in a hug. His legs threaten to buckle and I take some of my own weight back.

“If I’m honest, I don’t think those hada deserve the respite you’re giving them,” he mutters into my hair, and I pull back, frowning. “They’re always winding up the angels.”

“They’re being treated like slaves, Zephyr Engill. And the students are mocking them, hurting them—badly at times.”

Zephyr scoffs.

“Since when were you on the angels’ side?” I snarl. “Wait, don’t tell me. You have a crush on another professor, an angel this time? You know how the last crush ended.”

Zephyr drops my hand, his expression clouding. He pulls himself up to his full height, a hazy silhouette of light glowing around him. He walks off, unsteadily, down the corridor without speaking, without once looking back.

Chano clears his throat. “As much as he annoys me, that was unnecessary, chica.”

I round on him. “What?”

“He’s having a hard time working out his place right now.” Chano holds himself stiffly, as if unsure where to rest his hands. His fingers twitch toward the hair that’s come loose from my messy bun.

“His place isn’t beside bullies!”

Chano folds his arms, forcing his biceps to bulge. “And what did you just do, if not bully him?”

My mouth’s open to argue, but I can’t think of a single retort.

Zephyr on his knees in front of the Angel King. Zephyr on his face in the dirt.

I shake my head.

“Shit.” It’s the only word I can force out. Chano regards me with those big gray eyes, the purple demon ring swirling around the iris.

“Shit,” I repeat. “I need to apologize, again.”

Chapter Twenty-seven: Lorelei

The rebels’ training hall is half-open to the night, a cavernous space where stone pillars support a high-beamed ceiling. Brazier flames flicker along the walls, their shifting light casting deep shadows across the stacked weapons and racks of armor. The scent of smoke, metal, and sweat lingers, thick as the tension pressing against my ribs. I had to come, to skip out of Fates, again. Farrell deserves it. Having Chano and Kai at my back is only a little more reassuring than coming alone.

Farrell sits at the long wooden table in the center, dragging a whetstone over his dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. Sparks catch in the dim light. He doesn’t look up at our footsteps.

Chano saunters in like he owns the place. Passing a weapons rack, he plucks up a knuckle duster, turning it over in his palm like he’s weighing its worth. With a small amused snort, he slips it onto his fingers and flexes his hand. He leans casually against the wall, his sharp gaze landing on Farrell. Assessing. Waiting.

Kai hangs back near the brazier closest to the exit. His fidgeting is worse tonight—the sharp points of his nails tap a frantic rhythm against the hilt of his dagger. It’s like he’s subconsciously responding to the tension in the air. Or he’s being deliberately annoying.

Another glance at Farrell. His set jaw. His scowl.I deserve this.

For a second, I hesitate. Then I cross the space between us, boots scuffing against the stone floor.

“I came to talk.” My voice is steady. Measured. There are too many witnesses here to come apart at the seams. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of his new Hand edging closer.

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