“Don’t you dare disagree with me, Alabath,” he growled, voice spiraling into the night, crackling with fury. “The Angels—all of this—none of it matters when we’re here. None of it can touch us as long as we’re together. You and I, we’re the constant.” His thumb brushed across my lips. “There is nothing any Angel, god, or Fate can do to change that, no matter how many curses plague us or trials unfold at our feet. Because as long as they do, we are infinite.”
As he said it, the sky above cracked, the clouds finally giving way to the milling storm.
Under the downpour, I cracked, too.
“I’m tired, Tolek,” I admitted, sinking into him as the weight of the words left my shoulders. “I’m tired of fighting enemies we can’t even see. The ones I can raise a blade to are one thing, but I don’t even know who we’re after anymore. Or who’s after us. I’m confused, and I feel so used, and…I’m tired.”
Warm rain drops pelted the stone, each one loosening a piece of the rock cemented in my chest.
“I know. I’m tired, too, Alabath.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m so damn tired of seeing you weighed down with this pressure. Do you know another reason I liked being in the outposts so much?”
I sniffed. “Because the archery stations are always open?”
Tolek laughed. The rain picked up speed, nearly drowning his next words so they were only held between us. “Because despite the restlessness the queen’s orders instilled in us, we were allowed to breathe. To indulge in something we have too little of.”
“Peace?”
“Time.”
A roll of thunder echoed his words, my skin icy and hair plastered to my cheeks.
“I’m scared we’re running out of time.”
Tolek’s eyes darkened. “Never.” He walked me backward until my spine hit a cypher, the two of us cocooned in the tree’s willowing branches. One hand tilted my chin up so I could look nowhere but at the pure, molten fire of his eyes. “With you and me, there is always going to be time. As much time as there are stars in the skies. The cosmos doesn’t run out of time,apeagna, and neither will we.”
“What if?—”
“No.” Nothing but pure demand radiated in that voice. The rain lashed down harder. “I don’t give a damn about the Angels. I don’t care what threats they wield or what power they employ. I’m starting to think they are nothing without you—and I know I am. You are the thing holding this all together, and there is so much power in that, Ophelia. You can command it as you wish. Have us all on our knees at your mercy becausethatis your right.”
His words snapped through me, emboldening me. “And if I want this entire task to end?”
Tol rested his forehead against mine. “Then we put a fucking end to it.”
The rain-soaked air stung my skin, but the iciness didn’t reach me. All I knew was the utter power in Tolek’s voice. It burned, igniting the Angellight woven through my very soul, into the hollows my spirit failed to fill.
“So be tired if you must,” he said, gripping my jaw tighter. “You deserve it. Tell the damn Angels they bend to your will, Alabath, not the other way around. And if you need a break, I’ll carry you.” He paused, searching my gaze. “We’ve all questioned our purpose here. Questioned how we’re tethered to the prophetic fates of Bounties and cyphers. Of stars and spirits and Angels. Perhaps I’m not tied to any of those things but you. When you’re tired, I’m here to help you surmount the Angels.”
Tolek’s waterlogged hair drooped into his eyes, but even that couldn’t mask what burned there—something as potent as my Angellight and as venomous as the beings it was birthed from.
It soared through me, searing the dark voids of doubt. And in answer, without even a conscious thought, Angellight shone through my skin, tendrils wrapping around my waist and Tolek’s, banding us together.
“It would be my honor to conquer the everlasting with you,” I said as thunder rumbled overhead.
His words were sharp against my lips. “Let’s make the Angels fucking scorch.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cypherion
She’s back,I repeated to myself as I carried Vale up the stairs to our room.
But though she was curled into my chest, she was different. Smaller somehow, like the loss bleeding into the air was ripping her apart at the seams. She shuddered, her hand braced on my chest, and the movement was so wrecked. Shattered.
“What do you need, Stargirl?” I whispered once I was sitting on the bed with her tucked in my lap.
“He’s dead,” she muttered, voice hollow.
I swallowed past the thickness in my throat. “I know, Vale.” I sighed. “I know.”
