“The creature in the drawing. That’s its name.”
“Sounds ridiculous.”
“No.” Luc held up her drawing. “Thislooksridiculous.”
“A ridiculous drawing for a ridiculous creature designed by a ridiculous angel.”
She thought Luc might snark back at her, but instead, he chuckled.
“What?”
“Isn’t it tiresome?”
“What?”
“Being so combative all the time. You should have been a warrior.” Luc leaned into her space, and, frozen, she didn’t push him away. “Maybe it would help to have a physical outlet for all that pent-up aggression,” he noted in a voice that was too soft and too warm. She couldn’t breathe until he pulled away and resumed drawing.
There had always been something between them, buried under an aeon of orbiting and, occasionally, slamming into each other’s space. Sometimes, Luc stared at her a beat too long as they passed in the corridors. Sometimes, heat crept up her neck when they reached for the same tool during workshops, accidentally brushing each other’s skin.
She wasn’t sure if she hated him because he was everything she was not or because he was yet another thing she couldn’t have. But there, in that moment, they were together, alone, with only the Void to witness them. And she had the horrible, wonderful thought that if she kissed him, it would shock him—shewould shock him—and if anyone in power ever found out what she’d done—that she’d not only broken one of the most cardinal rules of her existence but had defiled the crowning glory of the angels in doing so—they would rage at her, as red-faced in disbelief as she’d been upon her earlier dismissal. Luc’s admirers would envy her; some, perhaps, would notice her for the first time.
She could carry that knowledge around for the rest of her existence, hidden deep in the folds of her robes, and smirk beneath her submission. She couldn’t be an architect, and she couldn’t be free of Castor, and she couldn’t leap into the Void, but she could have that.
Power tingled on her skin once more. It was a feeble power, born of grief and defiance and pure happenstance, but she would cling to it just this once. She would make it her own.
“What’s that one’s name?” she asked, pointing to Luc’s new sketch.
Luc turned, his mouth half-open.
She pressed her lips to his, and at once, she realized her mistake.
Kissing Luc wasnotlike kissing Castor, which was an awkward and sometimes painful combination of teeth-nipping and tongue-thrusting. Luc’s lips, like his voice, were soft and warm, and rather than push her off of him—as she’d thought he might—he cupped her cheek, dug his strong fingers into the base of her scalp, and drew her closer. This confused Lila, and, flustered, she pulled away first.
Luc stared at her mouth; he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and she fought the urge to shrink back. Her lip tingled pleasantly, and an unwelcome warmth bloomed in her stomach. It flowered into her chest.
No, no, no, this was wrong.Wrong,and Lila wanted to slap his hand away, but she couldn’t because he was looking at her the way he looked at his drawings. Like he hadn’t known something so wondrous could exist.
Lila scrambled backward and leapt to her feet. Without a word, she began hurrying away.
Stupid, stupid.Nearly leaping into the Void?KissingLuc? What had she been thinking? How could she show her face to Castor after this?
“Lila! Hey, Lila! Wait!” Luc called after her, but she took off at a faster pace, resisting the urge to look back.
Present Aeon
Luc stumbled through the main reading room and out into the brightness of the well-traveled path between the Library and the instructional buildings. Terrified faces and bloodied bodies, crumbled stone and shattered glass, trailed after him. He feared if he glanced down, he’d find blood on his hands.
Around him, angels were going about their routine tasks, moving in isolation or in groups of two or three. Some of the travelers waved at Luc as they passed by, but he couldn’t raise his hand.
Did theyknow?But they couldn’t. They would hate him.
Though, obviously,someoneknew. Whoever had built that room. Whoever cared for it.
Cold sweat dampened his collar. Chills rolled down his arms in waves.
He couldn’t stay there. He had to get out. Spreading his wings, he headed for the only place that might calm his thoughts.
When he arrived there, the Void was as it had always been, though he resented the watchtowers that had recently been erected. Normally, he didn’t pay them any mind, but now they felt like two overbearing sets of eyes as he crash-landed near the obelisk.
