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His eyes remained on me, piercing through my arrogance. My pride.
“I was about to enter the Ellelights when the Vèrtu arrived.” He looked away to the windows, eyes growing distant. “They were the ones who nourished me back to health. To life.”
I gripped the bottom of the mug, trembling. They’d actually done that to him? Gods. I looked at the Condemned, struggling to picture him weak. Emaciated. On the brink of permanent death.
How could the Sky Watchers manage that?
And why the rot was I here if they could?
We need the secret to his ethèr.
What could this angel possibly be hiding that would make his powers of greater necessity than his death?
I studied him. The beauty of his amber wings. How I could see reflections of the dining chamber in their light. The pride of his broad shoulders. The cut of his perfectly handsome jawline. His smooth brown skin, contrasting bright eyes and full, tempting lips.
He was powerful. Beautiful.
And my ticket to a new life.
I shook off any mounting sympathy my traitorous hearts would try to have. What his kind did to him didn’t matter to me. Especially when it was angels who’d brought Mother and me to ruin. I would never pity angels. But I would use them to reclaim what was mine.
While devouring every detail about the Condemned, I noticed the linger of his stare on my hair. How he looked down the column of my neck, to my full bust hidden beneath thin silk. He seemed to memorize my curves and the delicate folds of my features that mirrored the boldness in his own.
He blinked, regaining control of his visible lust. His gaze turned hard. A biting cold seeped into his irises, sharpening his senses.
“Tell me, Temptress. Why did they choose you?” A flash of his sharp canines. “Why did you agree to come to the tower?”
“Riddle me this first.” I leisurely sipped my coffee, watching him above the mug's rim. “What is your name?”
A bark of laughter.
“You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m stupid enough to give you my name.”
“What’s the problem?” I leaned forward, raising a brow. “It’s just a name.”
His eyes glittered as his thumb encircled the rim of his goblet, which refilled the contents within on their own.
“You’re faeretheth.” A low snarl sounded in the back of his throat. “It’s never just a name.”
I smirked, licking my lips. “Not all of us fae are as conniving as you think.”
“Bullrot.” He leaned back, bringing his goblet to his lips. His locs danced, swaying by his hips. “You’re all the same, Sèlie and Un’Sèlie alike.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “And you? You’re one wicked little thing if you’re in my tower.”
“Ah. So now you cherish your prison?”
“One learns to make do when their sentence has stretched to a full angelic lifetime.”
I jerked upright. “A lifetime?” I blinked. “Isn’t that one thousand years for you?”
The Condemned snorted.
“Five hundred years for fae is one cycle for angels.” A beat. “An angelic lifetime is one thousand cycles.”
I choked on my coffee. I ran the numbers in my head. The food in my gut turned sour as realization dawned on me. Gods. What had he done to deserve such a sentence? How in all the rot had he been here this long without going mad?
“One thousand…” I began, struggling to unglue my tongue. “But you don’t look a day over twenty.”
He grinned proudly. Flecks of wisdom shone deep in his gaze.
