“Shouldn’t we get inside?” I asked, noting his lack of urgency. “Your message made it seem as though we hadn’t a moment to lose.”
“Did it?” he feigned surprise, leaning a shoulder against the stone wall and taking another slow drag. “Sancha does have a penchant for the dramatic at times. I believe she can wait a few more minutes while two friends catch up.”
He lingered on the word ‘friends,’ his dark eyes trailing down my body in a way that burned away the chill of the night air. He shifted his weight forward, taking another step closer.
It had been two weeks since I’d last been face-to-face with the Acolyte. I hated that I knew the number of days. That I had to stop myself from reaching for him. That I recalled, with such great detail, the sensation of his lips against my own. The sounds that he uttered when I sank my teeth into the warm crook of his neck.
But there were other matters to attend to. And as much as I wanted to forget the fact I was standing on the stairs of the Cradle, the looming shadow that the Church cast over the two of us smothered the flames of my desires all at once.
“So, Sancha has finally returned to the Cradle?” I asked, though I already knew it to be true. The Council of Magi had recently decided to loosen its grip on its members—if only temporarily—as winter had taken hold of the Magi City. The Unseen delegates had returned to Paradise the prior evening, much to Azrael’s relief, and it seemed as though progress was finally being made on the front of negotiations with the Unseen Rebellion.
“Aye, she has. The Cardinal has returned to roost, though I can’t say for how long. The Council is still reeling from the mess we made of things, and they can only keep a handle on so much at once.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Mess’ seems far too tame a description for nearly every Mortal across the Expanse manifesting magical abilities overnight.”
Cirian huffed a laugh. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s more of a kerfuffle?”
“I don’t understand what the Council has to be upset over,” I continued. “Tobias told me they’d been harping about the ‘Second Awakening’ for decades, claiming it to be the catalyst behind each and every decision they made.”
“But there’s the rub,” Cirian replied, flicking his ash onto the ground. “Now that it actually happened, they no longer have their blanket excuse to condone their selfish behaviors. Plus, none of them ever imagined that the Awakening would bring magic to the Mortal population. If everyone is a Magi, then how can they hold onto the power they’ve used to force the mortals into submission?”
His conclusion had merit. Mortals had long provided the Magi a labor force to exploit with promises of magical boons. To those without the touch of magic, even the promise of it could drive a man to any lengths.
“What of the Church? Have they determined an official stance on this most miraculous of events?”
Cirian snorted a laugh, smoke billowing from his nostrils. “It’s only a Miracle if we can tie it back to one of the clergy. Externally, the Church is calling on those who have awakened to join in worship and gratitude to the Source. On the inside, however… let’s just say there are more than a fair share of bishops who are not thrilled with the idea of their sanctuaries being filled with Mortals.”
“How generous of them,” I scoffed, pulling the edges of my coat tighter around me. “Leave it to those imbeciles to take an opportunity to actually help those in need as an affront.”
Cirian dragged the remainder of his cigarette against the wall, extinguishing it. “Sancha is doing her best to make sense of the chaos, but there’s only so much she can do. She’s beset from all sides, and between you and me, it’s starting to wear her thin.”
“What about you?”
He looked up then, dark eyes reflecting the pinpoints of street lights as if he was the one who captured the stars and held them hostage in his gaze. “I continue to play my part happily, Bast. It’s the only thing I can do. Without Tobias… I find it difficult to do much else.”
The pain beneath his words squeezed the air from my lungs. It was familiar, that pain. That longing. We shared it, the two of us, along with Azrael. A glaring hole in our lives since Tobias had been taken.
I reached for him then, my fingers finding the bend of his elbow. He didn’t pull away from my touch, those fathomless eyes finding me once more as the ghost of a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.
“How is he?” Cirian asked.
“The same,” I answered, numb to the grief that saturated my words. “Which is to say, he’s still alive. We should focus on that much.”
Cirian unleashed a hollow laugh. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier if he were merely dead? You can work with dead.”
“Careful what you speak into the world,” I warned him, though there was no heat behind the scold. “My Gran used to tell me that. My words were wishes spoken into the Ether, whether I knew it or not. You never know who is there listening.”
“Then I will speak aloud only pleasant things,” Cirian replied, his hands reaching for me in the shadows of the spires above. “Of all the ways I would worship your body in the dark, Bast.”
My flesh burned at his touch as fingers sank into my waist and he pulled me closer, motions deliberate as he advanced,my back pressing against the rough stone wall. Before I could manage any attempt at dissent, his warm lips were on mine, his breath sweet against my tongue as he devoured me in a kiss.
The weeks apart had been kindling, stacked higher and higher with each passing day, waiting for an errant spark to come and ignite the pyres of passion. Cirian’s kiss was no mere ember—it was a bolt of lightning descending from the heavens, igniting all at once the dormant desires until they burned, scorching my veins.
Twisting my fingers into the fabric of his vestments, I pulled Cirian closer, folding myself against his lithe frame. Already, I could feel it, the glimmering thread connecting the two of us as it had before, spurred on by his touch. Even as he broke away to gasp for air, the tether burned bright against the dark backdrop, its verdant light illuminating his face with angles that transfigured his beauty into something otherworldly.
He was more than the distraction I hoped he would be. And as I stared up at that face, his plump lips now blood-red, I knew that the connection we shared went beyond just the needs of flesh. Whatever magic Tobias had called from the Ether that night had woven us together, souls-and-all.
And in that moment, I couldn’t have felt more grateful.
