House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

“Two weeks isn’t that long,” Isaiah consoled Hunt from across the glass table in the 33rd’s private cafeteria in the Comitium. They sat at the table reserved exclusively for the triarii, next to the wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

Normally, Hunt didn’t bother with the cafeteria, but Isaiah had invited him for an early lunch, and he’d needed to talk. He’d barely sat down when he burst out with his recap of his conversation with Celestina.

Hunt bit into his turkey-and-Brie sandwich. “I know it’s not long,” he said around the food, “but …” He swallowed, turning pleading eyes to his friend. “Bryce and I decided not to wait until Winter Solstice.”

Isaiah burst out laughing, the sound rich and velvety. A few soldiers turned their way, then quickly resumed eating their meals. It might have bothered Hunt any other day, but today … “I’m glad you find my blue balls amusing,” he hissed at his friend.

Isaiah laughed again, handsome as Hel in his suit. Given how many meetings he attended with Celestina—and now Ephraim—it was a miracle from Urd that his friend had found the time today to grab lunch with him. “I never thought I’d see the day when the Umbra Mortis came crying to me about a relatively light punishment because it interferes with his sex life.”

Hunt drained his water. Isaiah had a point there. Of all the punishments he’d ever been given, this was the mildest.

Isaiah sobered, voice quieting. “So what happened last night? Everything okay?”

“It’s fine now. Sabine came to the apartment looking for Ithan Holstrom. Bryce got spooked. I arrived in time to convince Sabine not to start shit.”

“Ah,” Isaiah said. Then asked, “And Baxian?”

“He took it upon himself as my so-called partner to provide backup. However unwanted.”

Isaiah snorted. “Points for trying?”

Hunt chuckled. “Sure.”

Isaiah dug into his own food, and for a moment, Hunt’s chest strained with the effort of keeping every truth inside. Isaiah had been with him throughout the Fallen’s rebellion. He’d have valuable insight into this shit with Ophion. Even if his advice was to stay the fuck out of it.

“What’s wrong?” Isaiah asked.

Hunt shook his head. His friend was too good at reading him. “Nothing.” He scrambled for another truth. “It’s weird to think that two weeks without Bryce is a punishment. If I so much as blinked at Sandriel the wrong way, she pulled out my feathers one by one.”

Isaiah shivered. “I remember.” His friend had been the one to bandage his ravaged wings again and again, after all.

“You like working for her? Celestina, I mean?”

Isaiah didn’t hesitate. “Yes. A great deal.”

Hunt blew out a long breath. He couldn’t tell Isaiah. Or Naomi. Because if they knew, even if they agreed to keep the shit with the rebels secret and stay out of it … they’d be killed, too. As it was, they might be tortured a little, but it’d become clear they knew nothing. And they might stand a chance.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Isaiah asked. Kindness shone in his dark eyes. “Even stuff with Celestina. I know it’s weird with the rankings between us, but … I’m the middle man between the 33rd and her. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

He’d never really deserved a friend like Isaiah. “It’s not weird with the rankings between us,” he said. “You’re the leader of the 33rd. I’m happy to work for you.”

Isaiah studied him. “I’m not the one who wields lightning. Or the one with a fancy nickname.”

Hunt waved off the weight of what his friend said. “Trust me, I’d rather you be in charge.”

Isaiah nodded, but before he could reply, silence rippled through the cafeteria. Hunt looked up on instinct, past all the wings and armor. “Great,” he muttered. Baxian, tray in hand, walked toward them. Ignored the soldiers who gave him a wide berth or fell silent entirely as he passed by.

“Play nice,” Isaiah murmured back, and made a show of beckoning the male over. Not for Baxian’s sake, but for that of all the people witnessing this. The soldiers who needed to be presented with a unified leadership.

Hunt finished off his sandwich just as the shape-shifting angel slid into a chair beside Isaiah. Hunt met his stare. “How’d it go with the Hind?” He knew the male could read between his words. Did you talk, you fucker?

“Fine. I know how to handle Lidia.” No, I didn’t, you asshole.

Hunt found Isaiah watching them with raised brows. “What happened with Lidia?”

The Helhound answered smoothly, “She wanted to grill me about why I left last night. I didn’t feel like explaining to her that I’m Athalar’s understudy, and where he goes, I go.”

Isaiah’s eyes darkened. “You weren’t so antagonistic toward her under Sandriel’s rule.”

Baxian dug into his platter of lamb kofta and herbed rice. “You’ve been in Lunathion for a while, Tiberian. Things changed after you left.”

Isaiah asked, “Like what?”

Baxian gazed toward the glistening city roasting in the midday heat. “Things.”

“I think that means we should mind our own fucking business,” Hunt said.

Isaiah snickered. “He’s taking a page out of your book, Hunt.”

Hunt grinned. “You’re confusing me with Naomi. I at least will tell you straight up to mind your own business. She’ll only imply it.”

“With a death glare.”

“And maybe a gun set on the table for emphasis.”

They laughed, but Hunt sobered as he noted Baxian observing their volley, something like envy on his face. Isaiah noted it, too, because he said to the Helhound, “You can laugh, you know. We do that kind of stuff here.”

Baxian’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’ve had more than ten years here. Forgive me if it takes a while to forget the rules of Sandriel’s territory.”

“As long as you don’t forget that you’re in Lunathion now.” The threat of violence rumbled in Isaiah’s every word, belying the impeccable suit he wore. “That scar Athalar put on your neck will be nothing compared to what I do to you if you hurt anyone in this city.”

Baxian’s eyes glittered. “Just because you weren’t interesting enough to merit being part of Sandriel’s triarii, don’t take it out on me with bullshit threats.”

Isaiah’s teeth gleamed. “I had no interest in getting that close to a monster.”

Hunt tried not to gape. He’d seen Isaiah lay down the law countless times. His friend wouldn’t have gotten to where he was without the ability to draw a line and hold it. But it was rare these days to see that vicious warrior shine through. Soldiers were turning their way.

So Hunt cut in, “Sandriel would be thrilled to know that she’s still pitting us against each other all these years later.”

Isaiah blinked, as if surprised he’d tried to intervene. Baxian watched him cautiously.

Hunt took another deep breath. “Fuck, that sounded preachy.” Baxian let out a snort, and the tension dissolved.

Isaiah threw Hunt a grateful smile, then rose. “I need to head out. I have a meeting with the Aux Heads.”

Hunt winked. “Give Ruhn my love.”