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Jezebel shoved past me. Eyes sweeping over the room and finding it safe, she climbed onto her bed and crossed her arms, a wine bottle dangling from her hand. The pink silk nightgown she already wore was almost identical to her sister’s.

“I did you a favor,” she growled.

“We’ll discuss your favor later,” I swore, eyes flicking under the bed again. Before Ophelia could ask, I added, “Good night, Alabaths.”

“Go see Santorina!” Ophelia called after me.

Sticking my head through the door at the last second, I winked. “Whatever you say.”

Chapter Nineteen

Ophelia

The door clicked closed after Tolek, and the easy joy carrying me a moment ago went with him. I collected myself as quickly as possible, dragging in a long breath and releasing it. The heat budding within me cooled just as slowly.

Tolek Vincienzo really was going to kill me. In a head rush of my own lust-filled dreams—that’s how I’d go. And I didn’t think I’d mind. Utter black out, all that would be left was desire and thoughts of his lips against mine.

I couldn’t let my thoughts go down that path right now, though. Couldn’t use him to avoid what was happening with Jezebel. Instead, I stifled them for later as I toyed with the pillows on my bed.

Jezebel’s baiting tone followed Tolek out the door, and a heaviness settled between us. Clearing her throat, she unfolded her legs and drifted to the writing desk, shuffling papers out of the way.

“Drink?” Jezebel asked. She held up a bottle I hadn’t noticed, crisp white wine sloshing behind the condensation on the glass. She poured two without waiting for my response.

“You don’t like when I drink,” I reminded her as she handed me one.

“I’d rather you have one for this conversation.” It was the avoidance of her tawny eyes and the nervous purse of her lips that convinced me—as if there was more she longed to let out, but she wasn’t ready yet.

I took a small sip, waiting for her to settle again. Her hand went to her collarbone absently, falling when it didn’t find her necklace.

Takes about as long to open up as the best, too, Tolek had claimed. He was right; my sister and I were two sides of the same coin, outwardly presenting—defending—in different ways, but deep down, that need to smother what we didn’t understand was intrinsic and toxic within us both. I’d be damned if I let her make my mistakes.

What had worked to get me to start opening up, though?

Space and safety.

Tolek thought he was smart with his gentle prodding—and I’d give him credit because it worked—but it worked because he didn’t pressure me. He allowed me to come to terms with things in my own way, on my own time. And that made me want to do it always, I’d realized. Because with him, I was comfortable. I wasn’t judged. I was safe.

I’d sit here all night if Jezzie needed time to form her words.

Luckily, it was only a few minutes of the crackling fire filling the silence until she opened her mouth. “So today…”

“Thank the Spirits.” I sighed.

She laughed. “I was trying to see if I could outlast you. You’re learning patience, sister.”

“Trying.” I rolled my eyes. Then, we both turned serious once more, facing each other from our respective beds. “What was that, Jezzie?”

“I don’t know.” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “Not entirely.”

It was the same hollow voice she’d adopted after the winged beast attacked us on our journey to the Undertaking all those months ago. The one she’d been shaking off through the months in Damenal but that had taken over again after the battle.

“Tell me what you do know, and we’ll figure the rest out together.” I scooted to the edge of my bed and gave her my undivided attention.

“It’s going to sound ridiculous—I thought it was for years.”

Years?

“I’ve been cursed by the Angels and can create Angellight with my blood and pieces of metal, Jezzie. I think the concept of ridiculousness is relative.”