We spend the rest of the night eating, drinking, and talking. It’s normal and perfect, and I fall asleep thinking Luca’s hope must be contagious.
FORTY-EIGHT
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #75:
Watch. Listen. Learn.
ALISTAIR
The entire house shudders, yanking me from sleep. My eyes snap open, searching for the point of attack. Besides us, the bedroom is empty and quiet in the dim, gray gloom of early morning.
Ciprian sits up, rubbing his eyes as he scans for threats. “What was that?”
Malach yawns and pulls his arm loose, shaking out the pins and needles. It must have gotten pinned beneath Luca at some point during the night, but Malach isn’t bothered. “S’lach is testing the gate. Searching for weaknesses.”
“Why?” I snap. “He agreed to duel.”
“Agreements mean nothing to him,” Riven says. “He broke his contract with me and didn’t think twice about it.”
Celine pulls a pillow over her face. “Unless he’s knocking down the front door as we speak, cut the chitchat.”
Ciprianlays back down and curls around Celine. I shake my head. A few months ago, seeing him wrapped around her would have made me sick with rage. Now, I just feel warm and a little possessive.
I roll onto my side to watch them. Someone knocks on the door.
Malach barks something in the common tongue—I’m almost sure of it. I’m starting to recognize the differences in the celestial languages. I spent years carefully erasing my British accent to blend in on the Fringes, and I’ve had loads of practice noticing subtle tonal shifts.
The shared celestial language is smoother than thethatshadialect. It rolls off the tongue more easily, has fewer sharp consonants, and doesn’t seem to require much enunciation. It’s a working person’s language, with an efficient accent that suits the needs of the people who speak it.I wonder if Malach and Celine would teach me.
“My apologies for disturbing you,” Lyklan responds in his heavily accented English, for our benefit, no doubt. “But I thought you should know—S’lach has amassed a sizable force outside the gate.”
Celine groans, then raises her voice. “And if you absolutely had to assign a size, what would it be?”
Lyklan clears his throat. “Dozens.”
“Motherfucker.” Celine rips the pillow off her face and hurls it at the wall.
It explodes on impact, adding to the layer of down already on the floor. They really need to invest in sturdier pillows. If I spoke the common tongue, I could let the housekeeper know, but I’m sure she’ll figure it out once she finds the mess.
There’s a pause as Lyklan absorbs Celine’s outburst through the door.
“As I said,” he drawls. “My apologies.”
“Oh, shut up, Lyklan.” Celine rolls her eyes at the door. “You know I’m not mad at you. Come back in five minutes; we need to find clothes.”
A deep, husky chuckle comes through the door. “Only if you want. I would hate to inconvenience you.”
Green eyes flashing, Malach snarls something in the choppiest of their languages. It’s crisp, and each syllable cracks like a whip. I don’t have a clue what he said, but from his dark scowl, it wasn’t ‘thanks for stopping by.’
Lyklan laughs, louder this time. “I’ll be back with food.”
I glance at Malach. His curls are wild, lying flat on one side and standing up on the other. A handful of raised white scars decorate his muscles now, injuries that had already started to heal before we got him to Sheena. There’s an air of suppressed violence about him that allows me to relax my guard. Jealous Malach takes some of the pressure off me. If he beats Lyklan’s ass, I won’t have to. It’s nice.
Celine glances at his naked chest and licks her lips.
“Nope.” I block her view with my body. “You said five minutes. He’s going to come back, and I don’t want to have to kill the playboy angel.”
Celine’s eyebrows shoot up. “A playboy? Lyklan?”