announces, as if whatever he says goes. “If you’re what you say you are, we cannot risk you falling into Morax’s hands again.”
My temper flares, and the softness I was just feeling for Ire’s understanding and support is incinerated in the heat of my annoyance. He likes playing that mate card when it’s convenient for him. But what really is getting my goat is his use of if.
If you are what you say you are.
What is that supposed to mean? Does he not actually believe me? I try to rip his fingers off my hand, but his hold is firm. He acts like I’m trying to steal something that belongs to him when the damn thing is attached to my arm.
“Finally, you’re here,” a servant girl announces monotonically as she moves closer to me. It takes me a moment to snap out of the argument I’m having with Ire and realize the servant girl is Delta in her disguise.
How’d she get up here so quick?
“Who are you to speak so freely?” Ire snaps at her, and I roll my eyes. Looks like the petulant prick side is rearing its ugly head all too soon.
“Stop it, that’s my sister,” I hiss.
Her expression flickers with surprise that I just admitted who she really is, but she quickly rolls with it. “Yeah. I’m her sister, asshole. Who the hell are you?” she demands right back.
He narrows his eyes on her. “I’m Ire, progeny of the Sin Wrath, and I happen to be Sable’s mate,” he announces, his chest puffing up in a way that shouldn’t do things for me, especially not now when he’s being such an irritating bastard.
“Another one?” Delta asks, looking over at me curiously, her lips quirking up.
“You have four,” I defend, and she gives me a look that says touché and shrugs her shoulders.
“Wait. What the hell do you mean, another one?” Ire asks, but Delta has already grabbed my free hand and has started pulling me in the direction of Tazreel again. In Ire’s confusion, he must loosen his grip, because my hand finally slips from his, and now Delta and I are moving toward Pride.
I tell myself not to look over my shoulder, not to check and see what emotion is written on Ire’s face, because I don’t have time to deal with it right now. Following Delta, I surreptitiously look around and try to seek out anyone in here who could be spying for Morax. We need to talk to Tazreel, but we need to be discreet about it.
All at once, I realize what it might look like to have a servant pulling someone who’s supposed to be an Abdicated toward a Sin. That’s probably not normal, judging by the way Ire just treated someone he thought was the help. So it might be too late for discretion.
“Did you see Medley down there?” Delta asks me, yanking my focus from Morax and training it back on what we’re supposed to be doing.
“She’s not up here with you?” I ask, immediately diving into my chest to check on our connections. Medley feels fine though, determination and calm is radiating off our connection, and I pull away, feeling reassured as we get closer to our father.
“Will your weird phrase work so he’ll really know it’s us?” I whisper.
“Don’t worry,” Delta says with a smirk. “He’ll know.”
“We need to get on with it, Ace. I’m not here to drink and wet my cock. I have things to do. Or are you forgetting that my progeny are missing?” Tazreel snaps at a male with ash gray hair and wings. I immediately flick through Delta’s descriptions, realizing he’s the Sin Acedia.
“Relax, Taz. You know how these things go. Take a moment to put your feet up. You’ve been going relentlessly since you found out about your first. You’ll find them. No one can hide from Hell forever, and that includes Morax,” Acedia tells Tazreel evenly.
“This is what I get for asking sloth to pick up the pace,” Tazreel grumbles, and Acedia narrows his eyes.
“Name calling? Really, Pride? You’re better than that,” he says with a yawn.
Tazreel huffs out an exasperated breath, and my heart aches a little for the stress and worry I see etched in his face. I know Delta said he errs on the side of insufferable, but I can see and hear that he cares.
Delta clears her throat as we step up to them, and the two Sins look over at us. Tazreel holds out his glass expectantly,