Surprise flickered in his eyes. "You feel it?"
Oh yeah, I thought wryly. I not only felt it, but I wanted it. Wanted him. "What happened to your wings?"
"Ah." He leaned back in his chair. "They were torn off."
"Torn off?" I stared at him in horror, desire briefly forgotten. "Why?"
"I'm afraid I committed the grave mistake of caring for my half sister. When she was murdered, I hunted down and killed the man responsible. For that, I was punished."
"By having your wings torn off? Fucking hell."
"I believe I said words to that effect at the time."
Despite the horror that still swirled through me, I couldn't help laughing. "I think you would have said a bit more than that."
"You could be right." Again, that delicious smile teased his lips. "In fact, I believe I got rather physical. Not that it did me a lot of good in the end."
"So who …?" I didn't finish the sentence, simply because I didn't need to.
"The priests," he said, "they're the only ones who can."
"But why didn't they understand your reaction? It's a normal response, after all."
"For humans—or people like yourself—maybe. But Aedh cannot be judged by human standards, and the priests are the least human of us all. They are cold, clinical creatures who believe in duty, logic, and the power of clear, concise thought. According to them, emotion is an aberration that should not exist."
I frowned. "But there are no priests left. They died out a long time ago."
"If that were true, I would dance through the streets."