“Yeah?” Illium’s breathing was yet unsteady, but he’d straightened up, his hands braced against his hips.
“He warned me that I might one day strike out at the ones I love the most.” He held the aged gold of eyes that, to him, meant home, meant safety. “He said that it would be an unconscious thing, but that I’d choose them as targets because I knew they were safe, that they wouldn’t forswear me even when I was an ass.”
“Keir doesn’t use words like ass,” Illium said, but there was a slight tremor in his voice that had nothing to do with his breathlessness.
Aodhan ran the back of his hand over Illium’s cheek once more, ignored the small attempt at levity. “I forgot what he told me even as I struck out at the person who means more to me than anyone else.” Illium was the sun in his system, the person without whom nothing else functioned quite right. “I took advantage of your loyalty and generosity, and I’m sorry for that.”
“Shut up.” Illium swallowed hard. “I’m glad you felt safe enough with me to be utterly insufferable.”
“I’m still sorry.” He waited until Illium met his gaze. “Not for what I want or how I’ve changed, but for how I’ve hurt you by my actions—and by my silence.” He hadn’t used it as a weapon, but that didn’t alter that it had drawn blood. “I will never again do that.” A promise that was a vow. “I will never again lock you out.”
Blinking hard, Illium glanced away.
Aodhan moved close enough to take Illium’s chin in his hand, tug gently until his best friend in the world would look at him again. The gold shone with a sheen of wet, the same emotion rocks in Aodhan’s throat. “Always, Blue,” he said, his voice husky. “Me and you? We’re always.”
Their breaths mingled, the sounds of the world fading away, until it was just Aodhan and Illium, Adi and Blue, Sparkle and Bluebell. Then Illium gave a lopsided smile and their entire world righted itself.
Nothing more needed to be said. Not here.
Leaving Illium to recover, Aodhan told the rest of the team to prepare to shift toward the secondary alternate route. It only took them an hour to move out—quick when you considered the number of people and vehicles involved. Aodhan didn’t see Illium after that except at a distance, his friend doing his job as an advance scout, sleek and fast.
As for Anaya, she was busy with the rear guard.
A position to which Aodhan had shifted her prior to this flight. Nothing to do with Illium being out front. It just made logical sense.
* * *
* * *
Illium wasn’t scheduled to stand night guard when they made camp, as Aodhan needed him fresh for his scouting duties the minute day broke. It was just as well, because he was wiped. The unpredictable eruptions meant constant high-speed flights to find a clear route, and then relentless worry as people passed beneath.
In a smart move, Suyin and General Arzaleya had split the caravan into multiple small “pods” far enough apart from each other that one eruption wouldn’t take out a large chunk of the population. It slowed them down, but the tradeoff was worth it in terms of safety.
At one point, they’d ended up with the caravan split in two when an eruption occurred in between, and had to work out a route to bring them back together. So far they hadn’t lost a single pod, but everyone’s nerves were at a fraying point. It didn’t help that, given the persistent disruptions, they’d only made it halfway to their projected goal for today.
The only reason they could rest easy tonight was because Illium had located a patch of rocky ground on which to make camp. Not the most comfortable, but the one type of material—aside from bodies of water—that the fog didn’t seem to like. It was too bad there wasn’t enough of such ground to take them safely to the coast.
With Suyin and the general both gone, Aodhan had to be front and center, and would only catch a short rest break at some point during the night. He was plenty strong enough to handle it, but that didn’t stop Illium from worrying about him.
Not that he’d say that aloud. All those scouting runs alone? They’d given him time to think about everything Aodhan had said to him—especially when it came to that first big fight in Elena and Raphael’s Enclave home. Hard as it was for him to admit, he had jumped down Aodhan’s throat that night.
He’d never have reacted the same way had it been any other member of the Seven. The fear and rage he’d felt when Aodhan was taken, the agony of the aftermath, none of it gave him the right to treat Aodhan as . . . less.
His gorge roiled.
He’d never, not once, thought of Aodhan that way, but you’d never know it from his overprotective hovering. No wonder his best friend had been so angry with him. Aodhan had apologized for using Illium as a target for his anger, but Illium had apologies to make, too, and he would as soon as Aodhan had a free moment.
To distract himself for the time being—and because he was sweaty and filthy after the long day—he made his way a short distance from the camp and to a small but deep lake that hadn’t frozen over, most likely due to underground geothermal vents. While those vents had kept the water liquid, they hadn’t appreciably warmed it up.
Still, it had been cleared as safe, and angels were built for the cold. Everyone else was making do with wipes, or by warming up enough water for a rubdown in the privacy of their snow-resistant shelters.
The angels who’d decided to take advantage of the lake did so fully clothed. This wasn’t the time or the place to be caught with your pants down. Illium did take off his boots and stash them in a tree, but—if need be—he could fly and fight bootless.
That done, he shot up high into the sky before arrowing down to the lake. He didn’t splash as he went in, his body an aerodynamic blade that sliced deep, deep into the dark depths. The icy chill was welcome, its quiet embrace equally so.
He was feeling as good as his troubling thoughts would let him when he broke the surface and sleeked back his wet hair. Another angel swam lazily over from a short distance away. Anaya, that was her name. Her golden hair had gone dark in the water, her curvy body hidden beneath, and her face awash with admiration.
“Nice dive,” she murmured, a look in her eye that he could read all too well.
“Thanks.” He’d intended to do another dive, maybe swim, but now said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m under strict orders to eat and sleep.”
No insult in her expression at his rejection of her silent offer. “To be honest, I should do the same. But if you want to play when we’re not so stressed . . .”
Illium’s usual response to such invitations was a grin and a nod. He never made promises he didn’t intend to keep, but he also hated to hurt others when they’d made themselves vulnerable to him in such a way.