“I don’t— Argh.” She raised a fist at him. “So maybe I do ask a lot of questions. So what. Anyone in my position would do the same. Besides, I’m a girl and that’s my job. You’re a boy. You’re supposed to pound your chest with your fists and grunt, then do everything in your power to please me.”
“Hardly. The man you just described is more likely to knock you over the head with a club and drag you away by the hair.”
With his every word, amusement had grown in that blue, blue gaze.
The show of her temper, and the subsequent humor, delighted him. But only a little, he assured himself, and only because he could not guess what she would do or say next. “How are you feeling?” he asked, studying her once more. She still had bruises under her eyes, her lips were chapped from being chewed and her limbs shook. “You are unwell again?”
“I’m still suffering from withdrawal, that’s all.”
Zacharel recalled the long list of medications she had been prescribed. Such withdrawals would be substantial. He could give her the remaining drop of water from the River of Life, but— His jaw clenched. Considering such an option before, while she’d been bedbound, he could justify. He hadn’t known whether she would live or die and that’s exactly what the water was for. Life and death. It was not for relieving a few aches and pains.
“I’ll be fine,” she added, probably to fill the sudden silence. “Now. Will you please take me back? Without asking me any more questions.”
“I might be beyond frustrating—” in fact, he was pretty sure the name Zacharel meant bastard in several languages “—but you are safer with me than with anyone else.”
“Safer with the guy who threatened to kill me?”
Ah. Now he understood. After a good night’s sleep, her head finally clear, she had recalled what he’d said to her—I could kill you now—and wanted to escape him. “I did not threaten you.” Truth. He had merely stated a fact. He could kill her at any moment.
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. But I tell you now, again, that you are safer with me than with anyone else.” Even if he hurt her, even if he did decide to slay her, she was still safer with him. Everyone else would do far worse.
For once taking him at his word, she drew in a deep breath and nodded. “All right, I’ll stay. For now.”
He felt an odd urge to say thank-you but managed to bite the words back. “You are simply too good to me.”
She crossed her arms over her middle. “Is that sarcasm? I think I detect sarcasm.”
“Are you sure I even know what that word means?”
She tsked under her tongue. “Another question from your end.” Her head tilted to the side and she studied him for the first time since he’d entered, the visual perusal a whispering touch over his entire body. “Your wings…”
“Yes?” He stretched out one, then the other, examining their lengths. Snow still trickled from each, but the glistening crystals were smaller than usual.
“They’re more gold than white. Yesterday the opposite was true.”
She was right. The amount of gold had increased yet again. That could only mean…he was evolving into one of the Elite, whether his Deity had spoken to him about it or not.
But…but…that could only mean his Deity was pleased with him and that Zacharel had been chosen to replace Ivar. There was no other explanation that made sense.
But why?
Because Zacharel had saved a human, despite the risk to himself? Because he had finally taken charge of his army, was finally earning the respect of his men? If so, that would mean his Deity had never wanted him to fail, that the promotion was to be his prize.
“Well?” Annabelle prompted. “And don’t think I was complaining. Your wings are very pretty.”
Pretty? The word should not have offended him, but it did. They were magnificent, thank you.