“All right,” I say.

Slowly, the Wolf takes my hand and flattens my trembling palm against the beat of his heart. His skin is warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Feel my heartbeat and match your breathing to it. Let everything else fall away.”

I do as he says, focusing on the drum of his heart against my fingers, the rise and fall of his chest as I time my inhales to his. Gradually, bit by bit, my racing pulse begins to calm.

“That’s it,” the Wolf murmurs. “Just like that. Keep your eyes on me and your breathing steady. Can you do that for me?”

I let out a shaky exhale and nod.

“I’m going to turn you around now. And when I let go, I want you to spread your arms out wide like they’re wings. Imagine you’re soaring. That you’re limitless and untethered. Understand?”

“Yes,” I say.

The Wolf’s hands are gentle as he rotates me with one arm locked around my waist, and the other a steady pressure between my shoulder blades, until there’s nothing between me and the sea below. “Arms out. Eyes up. You’re going to fall, and I’m going to catch you.” His lips brush my ear. “I’ll always catch you.”

And then he lets go.

For an instant, I’m suspended. Weightless. Everything in me seizes, screaming wrong wrong wrong—

The Wolf’s arms close around me, hauling me against him. “Breathe. I have you.” His heart thrums against my spine. “Do you trust me?”

The word lands like a blade between the ribs. Trust is such a small, simple thing, and handing it to the god who’s going to kill me is so dangerous. So stupid.

But I don’t want this to end yet.

“Just for today,” I say. “For this moment, I trust you.”

His exhale gusts across my nape. “Then fall, Devaliant. Fall and fly.”

And he releases me.

This time, I don’t fight the plummet. I surrender myself to gravity’s inexorable pull, the swoop and fall, the giddy lurch. As untethered and free as the birds wheeling above.

Strong arms snatch me out of the plunge. I slam into the Wolf’s chest with a breathless whoop, my hands finding his shoulders.

He grins. “Again?”

“Again,” I say, smiling back.

I lose track of the minutes. Of the dives and catches, the rushes of fear and excitement and impossible joy. All I know is his body pressed against mine, the drum of his heartbeat in my ears. I let the fear and the doubt all fall away, the hard, ugly things tangled like nettles around my heart. No past between us. No hate or splintered things. Just the wind and the sky and the sea. The two of us rising and falling, falling and rising.

I spread my arms wide and picture myself drifting, weightless. And when I tip back into the sky, it’s not a plummet. It’s flying.

The Wolf is always there to catch me.

I surrender to the rush, let the excitement sing through my veins, and when he pulls me to him after the final dive, I’m laughing, wild and breathless. I feel impossibly light.

The tower comes into view too soon. The Wolf lands in the center of the garden, his hands flexing on my hips before he sets me back on my feet.

For a long moment, we simply stare at each other, our breath slowing.

“Why?” I ask. “Why did you do this for me?”

His knuckles graze my cheek. I fight the urge to lean into it, to chase that fleeting warmth.

“It was something you needed,” he says. “And maybe I needed it too.”

I almost touch him back. Almost take his face in my hands and put all my words in the brush of my fingers across his skin. Because for a little while, we were both searching for the same nameless thing out there above the waves. Both wanting. Both unable to put that strange yearning into words.

But then he steps back and drops his hand. “Goodnight, Devaliant.”

The words are cool. Polite. A reminder of who and what we are, all tied up in meaningless pleasantries.

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26

EVANDER

THE AIR SMELLS like fear.

There’s a certain mélange that humans give off when they know death is coming. Usually, I like to take my time breathing it in, savoring the quiet before my work. The sights and sounds and scents of the next doomed village.

But tonight, I’m not alone on this hunt.

“Does this little display have a point, or are we just admiring the view?”

Bastien joins me on the cliff, his white hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. My brother and I have the same build—tall, broad shoulders, built for battle. Our wings used to contrast perfectly, his starry black to my gleaming gold. Now shadows writhe where his feathers should be, a reminder of what was stolen.

For a moment, I’m centuries younger, standing with my brother in another city. Before the war. Before the torture. Before I spent three days pouring magic into him while he screamed, the shadows growing out of the scars on his back.

And I nearly killed us both.

I roll my shoulders. “Killing is like fucking. I like to draw it out before I sink in.”

Before the war, that might have earned me a small smile. Maybe he would have made some comment about that demigoddess bartender we both had eyes for back in Vallenca. But Vallenca’s just rubble now, like the rest of our mother’s territory. Those days are as dead as the people we couldn’t save.

Some villagers scurry below, gathering kindling and tinder. That’s the fascinating thing about humans—all the different ways they prepare for death. Some run, others nest. I guess people will cling to whatever lie lets them sleep when the wolves are at the door.

Bastien’s black eyes meet mine, irises glittering with starlight. “You know,” he says, and the calm in his voice has me bracing for impact, “rumor has it you’ve gone soft recently. Forgot how to follow orders.”

I keep my face blank. “That so?”

“Alexios mentioned Keksa.”

And there it is. The real reason he’s up here on this cliff with me. Not out of brotherly concern—that ended with his wings—but as an excuse to slice me open and poke at my guts. Like I’m a math problem he can solve if he digs deep enough.

“Alexios needs a hobby,” I say with a dismissive flick of my fingers. “All that pent-up energy can’t be healthy.”

“Spare me the evasion. It’s beneath you.” Shadows writhe around him, coiling along his coat. “Selfishness, recklessness, the impulse control of a toddler—those are your specialties. Not cowardice.”

The irony of him questioning my behavior when he’s barely around to see it isn’t lost on me. Some days, I think he hates me. Hates the healing magic I used to give him the mockery of the wings he lost. He’s the reason I let that power atrophy until the Devaliant inspired me to use it, and if he ever found out, I think he’d dig around in my guts until I broke.

I look away. “It was a month ago, Bas. I was bored. Don’t overthink it.”

“I’m aware of the self-destructive behavior you turn to in boredom. That’s why I’m standing here.”

“Clearly. I’d never accuse you of standing here because you wanted a social visit with your brother.”

His eye twitches—on Bastien, that’s practically a flinch. “That’s your second evasion. Do I need to take over your work?”

“No. I’m fine. I told you it was just a whim.”

Lying is a skill, and lying to Bastien is an art. But what can I say? That I can’t stop thinking about her? That a Devaliant haunts my dreams? It’s obscene, the way I’m starving for her. Unacceptable. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Feel the press of her body against mine. Her voice in my ear, mocking.

This is killing you, isn’t it? Wanting me.

“Are we doing this or not?” I growl, rolling my neck. “Places to destroy, people to traumatize. I’ve got a busy schedule.”