“Of course it matters!” he blusters, his green eyes alight under the moonlight. “To see you cozying up with God of Death, knowing he is evil… It makes me sick.”
“I’m being fairly nice with him, for Ari’s sake. If you don’t like it, then you should just leave. You obviously don’t trust my judgment.”
“So, you’re choosing Azkiel over me.”
“This isn’t about him!” I shout, then quickly lower my voice when I remember we’re hiding. “Stop being so jealous.”
“I am not… it is not about that. He’s a fucking maniac.”
The temperature drops a few degrees as a storm brews overhead, dark clouds shrouding any moonlight. Wind whips around my ears, freezing my clothes to my skin as a drizzle of rain falls over us. I glance up, then say, “We can’t be at each other’s throats. Not with Ari missing. But if you stay, then stop judging me because I can’t take it.”
“I am not judging you.”
“You are! You hate my magic.”
His eye twitches, nostrils flaring, and my heart sinks as a sweep of disgust washes over his face, even if only briefly.
“See?” I reiterate.
Drake drags his sleeve over his face, wiping away the water droplets, then runs his hand through his tousled, dark hair. “I don’t hate you. I could never. It’s him.” He points at the temple, where Azkiel is sleeping. “He did something to you. I don’t know how, but he fucked up your magic. It’s making you act… unhinged.”
“Perhaps I am,” I admit aloud for the first time.
“I know this isn’t really you talking.”
I don’t respond, mostly because I’m afraid I’ll break any tethers of our friendship.
He jumps down from the wall, then grabs a leaf. “Here.”
He brings it to my lips, as if I can’t do it myself, then slowly tips the water into my mouth, but I take the leaf for him before I drink my fill.
The air thickens, winds splicing icy gusts between us, the hammering of the rain permeating the fresh mud into the air. Anger claws in my chest, threatening to tear me apart, but I won’t abandon our friendship over one conversation.
“We could die out here,” Drake blurts. “Look, I know you have plans, but they may not end in the way you think they will.” He pauses, drawing closer. “I have to do this, if only once.”
My breath catches as he leans in, shock rooting me as he brings his mouth to mine. I’ve wanted this for so long, but when his lips move against mine, nothing happens, and only disgust rolls through me.
I pull back, and Drake winces, rejection threading his stare as he closes his mouth, then steps back. “That was the wrong time,” he admits and regains his composure. “You’ve had a long night.”
“Drake—” I say, but he cuts me off before I can explain.
“Go get some sleep. I’ll keep watch until Death takes over.” He climbs back onto the wall. “We can forget this ever happened.”
I enter the sacrifice room, finding Azkiel staring at a bunch of symbols etched into the ancient, stone walls.
I’m about to leave upon spotting him when his voice echoes around us, stopping me in my tracks. “Don’t go.”
Spinning around to face him, my attention is immediately drawn to his exposed, chiseled abdomen, and the defined V-line disappearing into his pants. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he turns to me. “You’re wet.”
“It’s raining,” I say breathily, gesturing to the small puddle draining to the corner of the room, as rain lashes through the open crack in the roof.
“Come here.”
I swallow thickly. “No.”
He sighs, then crosses the room to me.
“Do you want to be warm?” he asks when I recoil from his touch. “Hold still.”
“What are you doing?” I push back, but his shadows creep over my body before I can stop them.
I glance down, my heart racing as I watch his shadows transform the fabric of my dress into a star-spun gown. The dark gray ombres from the bodice hanging below my shoulders, down to my lace sleeves and silver skirt.
I run my hands over the thin layers of fabric, wondering what manipulation he’s using now in doing me this small kindness. Although, it feels good to finally be out of that dress, so caked in blood, mud, and sweat. I’ve never seen that magic done up close before. “Am I able to do that?” I ask, my shadows rippling around my fingers.
“With practice,” he intones.
“I feel a little overdressed for a murder tournament,” I state, not wanting to admit it is the nicest thing I have ever worn. It’s too nice, for me. “It’d look better on Ari, when we find her. You can make her one instead, considering she is the prophesied one.”
“It was made for you.” He inches closer, and I crane my neck to look up at him, when he whispers. “You are devastating, Calista.”
I step out from his shadow. “I—I am going to find somewhere to sleep.” Away from you, I think the last part.
“We must talk.”
I cast my eyes to the ceiling, trying to find an ounce of patience. Having to be cordial with him is so fucking difficult. I hate that I need him. I sigh, then force a small, grim smile—For Ari. “Okay, go ahead.”
