Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,28

I said, this close to lying down and taking a breather.

“That wasn’t me,” Dez replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The corners of my lips turned down as I stared at the scorched cement of the ledge. The smell of an overused Porta-Potty receded, and a different scent washed over me—a fresher, crisp scent.

Wintermint.

My heart stuttered.

Slowly, I rolled to my back and onto my other side, looking up. The first thing I saw was bare feet. Somehow they were clean. I had no idea why I noticed that, but I had. How were his feet still clean? Had he just been flying around this whole time? My gaze lifted, and as close as he was now, I realized that the pants were the same kind of linen that the Throne had worn, a linen that looked incredibly well tailored. I kept looking up. The stomach and chest were still bare. Then I saw wings, gloriously white wings streaked with grace, spread wide and blocking out everything beyond them.

Zayne stood above, staring down at me with eyes that were too blue to be real, too cold to be his.

“Zayne,” I whispered.

He didn’t move. “That thing was going to kill you.”

My heart started hammering. “Probably. Eventually.”

Zayne tilted his head. “I couldn’t allow that.”

That was good. That was more than good actually. Relief started to creep into me—

“If you are to die,” he continued, “then it seems only fitting that it should be by my hands.”

8

Well.

The relief and rising sense of hope was short-lived, crashing and burning rather spectacularly.

“How romantic,” I muttered, ignoring the aching hollowness those words caused.

“You think?” he asked in a flatly apathetic way that was both unnerving and impressive. “After all, you said that I died because of you. Shouldn’t you then die because of me?”

“I said you died for me, not because of me,” I corrected.

“How is that any different?” He turned his head just slightly, and I could see that there was no wound under his chin. I hadn’t cut him deep, but he’d already healed. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I couldn’t see beyond his wings, but it didn’t take a leap of logic to figure that Dez had been about to do something really brave and really stupid. And that he’d listened to Zayne’s warning.

“Smart choice,” Zayne said, his gaze settling back on me. There was a brief moment where I got to really look at that golden hue of his skin—at the luminosity that hadn’t been there before Gabriel killed him. It was a subtle glow that probably wouldn’t be noticeable to most, but it was his grace.

My stomach dropped. He truly was packed full of heavenly fire, and I knew if any Warden went toe to toe with him, to serve as a distraction for me to strike, they wouldn’t survive. If Dez went after him...

I thought of Dez’s wife, Jasmine, and how kind she’d been to me, and of his twin babies. He should be far, far from here.

But Zayne was in front of me, and I had to try, no matter the risk. No matter how selfish it was.

I managed to keep my voice level when I said, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“I know.”

“Is that so?” I worked hard to hide how his response unnerved me. “Why have you waited until now to make that known? Last time I saw you, you got up all in my face.”

“I did,” he replied without emotion. “But I’ve been busy.”

My heart seized with dread. Were there more bodies, ones we just hadn’t found? “With the dead guy behind us? That kind of busy?”

Zayne knelt, dropping down and tucking back his wings so quickly that I gasped. Our faces were only a few inches apart, and as close as we were, I could see that it wasn’t just the color of his eyes that was different. The unearthly glow of grace was behind his pupils.

“Do you mourn his death?” he asked, the question startling me. The fact that he was kneeling with his back to Dez told both of us he didn’t remotely view the Warden as a threat. “Do you think he died an unjust death?”

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I said. “It does.”

He eyed me coolly. “That man, if you could even call him that, was nothing more than the worst of predators. I sensed all his sin.”

My heart tripped. “What...what do you mean?”

“I can sense the sin of man—their darkest, innermost thoughts,” he repeated in a tone that