I nod, glancing up and wincing from the bright light over Celine’s shoulder. Pressing the glass into my hand, she crosses to the kitchen to flip the switch.
“We were overwhelmed,” I mutter and frown. The details are unclear—even in my mind.
“Your team?”
My heart shudders. I try to remember specifics, but everything is blurry. Clanging steel, flying magic—the worry that we wouldn’t survive. Then nothing.
“Scattered or dead,” I say slowly.
The words are simple, yet uttering them is excruciating—and it has nothing to do with my sore throat. Besides, “Celine is gone,” no three words have ever hurt more. But my voice is cold, without inflection.She will think you a monster.
Celine drops to her knees by the couch, takes my glass, sets it to the side, then holds her hand out and waits. To salute. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me as I wrap my thumb around hers. The silent tribute to my lost guardians nearly snaps my control.
She understands.Of course she does.My eyes flutter closed as Celine presses her forehead to mine, our locked hands crushed between our pounding hearts.
“I’m sorry, Malach.”
“Thenishsuffer,” I whisper, weariness pulling at me.
Celine pulls away from me, her jaw tight. “Then they should fight back.”
“As you are?” I don’t mean to say it—wouldn’t have, if not for the pain.
Celine absorbs my cruelty and goes impossibly still. “We can search for survivors once you’re back on your feet,” she says, retreating from me and the conversation. Suddenly, I’m desperate to stop her from pulling away.
“If you cannot face him in your mind, My Truth, how will you face him in person?”
“Briefly,” she snaps, “when I remove his face with my blade, so no one ever has to see it again.”
She settles in the crooked chair and glues her eyes to the locked door.
I let the subject drop and watch the window.
Three days pass. Each one more confusing than the last. There’s no sign of survivors or bodies—no sign of a fight at all.
Try as I might, I can’t remember the specifics of what happened, only flashes of violence. My body heals, but the pounding in my skull won’t go away.
Luca and Alistair suspect I sustained a head injury early in the fight. My brain has healed, but it can’t return memories never captured. With my guardians gone, there’s no one to fill in the blanks. My guardians. I brought them here only to lose them.
Celine plants her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, but thankfully not on me. “I’m going,” she says.
“It’s too dangerous.” Luca scrubs his hand over his face.
“It’s way more dangerous here,” she argues. “And he shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“He hasn’t answered a single one of your messages—mine either—and he’s certainly not alone. Even if your father doesn’t think to look for you in Colorado, waltzing into the fucking compound without an invitation to visit the enclave is insane.”
Celine studies Luca’s flushed face calmly, then stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I didn’t ask your permission, Luca. I told you as a courtesy.”
“I’ll deny your time-off request,” he grunts.
Celine rolls her eyes. “Nice try. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll come too then,” Luca says, scrambling after her.
“No. One of us has to go to work, or people will talk. Besides, I’m not planning to knock. I’m just going to...”
“Hover like a fucking creep?”
