Anaya sighed. “Pretty and faithful.” Her smile said he was forgiven for not accepting her offer. “I hope your lover appreciates you.”
Parting from her on a friendly wave without correcting her misapprehension, he swam to shore to shake out his wings. Once out, he didn’t linger. He didn’t want to linger.
Not here.
After he’d retrieved and put on his boots, he flew back through a clear sky, his wet clothing ice in the winter cold. He still wasn’t sorry about the dip. He’d needed it. Quick change into his alternate set of clothing and he’d be fine.
He caught the lights of the camp well before he reached it. More, he caught the sparkle of Aodhan. His best friend sat alone beside a firepit, his seat what looked to be a fallen log, and his brow furrowed as he stared at his phone. Lips curving, Illium arrowed away from the firepit to land near the tent that held the supplies of angels who hadn’t yet put up a shelter for the night.
It took him only a couple of minutes to change—into jeans and a sweater of fine black wool designed to fit around his wings thanks to four sleek black zips. He had another set of leathers, but what the hell, the softer fabrics felt good on his skin right now—and the sweater was one of his favorites.
Dressed, he deposited his wet gear with the laundry team; they’d ensure it dried as they traveled—the trucks had been fitted with rooftop racks for just this purpose. Then he hit the small tent that held the food supplies for this quarter of the caravan. The vampire on duty handed him two warm buns filled with spiced meat.
“Seriously?” Illium said, his mouth already watering. “We’re cooking on the road?”
“You don’t know my great-great-great-great-great-grandchild,” the grumpy old vampire muttered, his mustache so big and fluffy that it was its own continent. “She’s not about to have a cold dinner when she can whip this up. Just be grateful I saved a few for the latecomers.”
“I’ll kiss her when I see her next.”
“She’ll paddle your behind for daring.”
Laughing, Illium accepted the buns, several protein bars, and two bottles of water, then somehow managed to carry it all to Aodhan.
Who was now full-on scowling at his phone.
48
“What?” Illium said. “An astronomical rise in the price of ultramarine blue?” He knew full well that was one of the hues Aodhan and his mother used when painting his wings. He even knew the two still, at times, made it the old way—from crushed lapis lazuli.
“Ha-ha.” Despite his morose tone, Aodhan took the food Illium held out, placing it on an upturned crate in front of him that had clearly been put there for just that purpose. “No, it’s a notice from the team Lady Caliane sent over to meet us on the coast—they’re gathering building supplies for the new citadel and associated city. Small hitch.”
Sliding away his phone as Illium managed to fit himself on the log, too, their wings overlapping, he shook his head. “You don’t want to know more, trust me. It’s admin.” He picked up the bun, took a bite—and groaned in pleasure.
Illium’s blood warmed.
“Do you think Dmitri does admin?” Aodhan said after he’d swallowed that first bite. “I never thought of that part of being a second before I came here.”
Illium shrugged. “I think Dmitri has a finger in every possible pie when it comes to the Tower—but he’s been second for a long time. Our Dark Overlord’s got minions.” He demolished another quarter of his own bun. “You know that vampire, Greta? She hates people and mostly doesn’t talk to anyone, but she’s Dmitri’s right hand when it comes to admin stuff.”
“Her?” Aodhan stared at him. “You’re sure? She only grunts when I say hello.”
“I’ve seen her smile. Once.” Illium had been so shocked his mouth had legitimately fallen open. “I think she’s just ancient and can’t be bothered, but she enjoys the work, so she stays on.”
“How do you know about her?” Aodhan drank half a bottle of water.
“Because I talk to everyone.” In stark contrast to Greta, Illium liked people. “One time, I brought her a bottle of that fancy blood from Ellie’s café empire.” He would always find it hysterical that Ellie, one of the hunter-born, was the CEO of a thriving blood-café business. “She stared at it like it was a dead frog—looking over those half-glasses she wears.”
“Why does she wear those?” Aodhan muttered after swallowing the last bite of his bun. “Vampirism would’ve fixed any vision problems long ago.”