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“Daliah, it’s not funny. I’m serious.”
I sat up, looking at Zhèmson, confused.
“Zhèmson. I have watched you cut down Sky Watchers with an ease that chills my bones. Power and strength are a light thing to you.” I frowned. “But flying back to Avari could kill you?”
“It’s because…” He looked at the windows. “My ethèr has been sealed to this tower. If I try to leave, it will pull me back. If I press on regardless, a beating will ensue. Daliah…” He faced me, his eyes shining as if holding back tears. “I’ve been bound a long time. Every moment here drains a measure of my ethèr. If enough time passes and I don’t escape, then yes. I will die.”
My heart leaped. Zhèmson. Dead? I perished the thought. I couldn’t fathom losing him.
“Lightheart.”
“How do we fix it?” I blurted. “The binding. How do we undo whatever the Sky Watchers have done and set you free from the tower once and for all?”
Zhèmson stilled, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“Zhèmson… hey, what is it?”
He waved a hand, materializing a goblet in his palm. He downed the entire thing in one gulp before laying his eyes on me. In them I saw fear mixed with pride, and something else I couldn’t place. The angel was hiding something. Whatever it was kept him shackled to the tower.
“Zhèmson.” My mind was working at lightning speed, trying to piece together the mystery behind chaining down the most powerful angel I’d ever met. “What’s the secret to your strength?”
For once, I wanted to know not to betray him, but to see if the truth of his secret had to do with him being chained to the tower. Perhaps if he’d be honest, we could figure out how to get him down the Sky Ladder.
Zhèmson was quiet for a long time. So long I didn’t think he was going to answer. I couldn’t blame him. If he chose not to answer, finding the truth had many paths. I’d go hunting for a diary. A ledger. A scroll. Anything I could get my hands on to learn how to help him.
Whatever he saw in my eyes was enough to get him smiling again, with his teeth and those burning dimples. I held his cheeks in my palms and kissed both dimples, cherishing their sight. Zhèmson groaned against my chin before claiming my mouth with such passionate force I nearly forgot what I’d asked him.
“My Lightheart,” he began, his eyes dancing. “The secret to my strength is…” A holy hush fell over our nook. I knew, deep within, this time he was going to tell the truth. “The secret is my hair.” He swayed his long, beautiful locs. They fell in thick, healthy strands down to his waist. “They’ve never been cut. Ever. It’s a vow the nazèri Domenents make. We are to never drink strong drink. Never to touch the dead. We don’t bury our own. And we never cut our hair.”
“No strong drink?” I asked incredulously, eyeing his goblet.
Zhèmson barked a belly laugh.
“I’ll have you know, this is just really tasty fruit juice.”
“Bullrot!”
“Taste it yourself, my bullheaded Temptress.”
I did. I took a sip from his goblet. It had nothing but delicious fruit juice with a fresh taste and a bubbly fizz.
“Wait.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been sober this entire time?”
Zhèmson cackled so hard I bounced on his lap. As he laughed, thoughts in my mind clicked.
“I’ve never seen you touch the dead, though you lay waste to the Sky Watchers each time they challenge you. You’re drinking fruit juice, and your hair is longer than mine. Why are you still chained to the tower?”
Zhèmson leaned in, nibbling on the curved point of my ear. I sucked in a sharp breath, aroused and growing hot.
“Curious little thing she be,” he purred in my ear. “Wonder how long she’ll resist before I spread her like an offering before me.”
I flushed, biting my bottom lip.
Zhèmson grinned, his eyes turning to molten gold.
“Enough of towers and traitors. I didn’t have firstfast and I’m growing famished.”
“Zhèmson!” I squealed.
