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“Konstantin told you all this?”
He snorted. “The archmage talks too much. You ask him one question, and he prattles on for thirty minutes about his precious technomancy. I have no clue why he even trusts me, although of course he needs my expertise.”
I suspected Konstantin was just naïve enough to be impressed by Wendel.
“What kind of military tech?” I asked.
“Eisenkriegers.” His eyes gleamed. “Imagine a soldier in a powered suit of armor that gives him superhuman strength. Thanks to some really clever magic, the man inside the machine can operate the metal arms and legs.”
“Let me guess, you did the really clever magic?”
“Exactly.” He spread his hands. “Though I can’t take all the credit.”
“How humble of you.”
He tipped his head. “Konstantin thought of copying my necromancy so a soldier could control the Eisenkrieger. When I revive the dead, I can control them from a distance. I only need to touch them once. Together, the archmage and I mimicked that particular aspect of my magic. A feeble imitation, but it works.”
I sat up straighter. “And they must want Diesel for the mechanical work.”
“Correct.”
“But Diesel wouldn’t want to help the Germans, which is why they had toencouragehim to join the team for Project Lazarus.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
“Why the fuck did the archmages lie to me?” I rubbed my wounded head. “And that bitch didn’t need to pistol-whip me.”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “If it still hurts?—”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t a nurse, remember?”
“And you aren’t a doctor.”
“Icouldbe.” He smirked. “I would, of course, order you straight to bed.”
“Wendel!”
I yanked my hand away and tried very hard not to laugh. He sliced his toast with enough innocence that he deserved a halo.
Joy whirred like a flight of birds through my chest.
“Wendel,” I said, “I wish—I wish we could have more of this.”
“Poor knights? Let me ask the?—”
“No.This.”
Moments together where I couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop falling for him. But was this only a glimpse of aWendel that could have been? Sorrow, beautiful and deep, ached inside my heart.
“This,” he repeated.
He glanced out the window and scanned the street. Tension returned to the way he held his jaw. He folded his napkin, drank a slow swig of water, and dropped some coins onto the table for breakfast.
“It’s a lovely day,” he said. “Walk with me.”
We left Café Amsel together. My heart pounded with uncertainty.
