The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein)
“He said quietly, “Someone’s here.”
“Hmm?” She yawned and blinked vaguely as Ilias rolled off the couch, shaking his hair out and grabbing for his pants. Dawnlight flooded the Veranda, and she had a good view of the two long strips of scar tissue that ran down his back. They stretched from the inside of his shoulder blades to just below the base of his spine. Ilias hadn’t said how it had happened, but she suspected it was a souvenir of his and Giliead’s last deadly encounter with Ixion. Ilias ha...dn’t said much about that either, except that Ixion had used a transformation curse on him and that Giliead had thought he would have to kill Ilias. We are going to have to do something about Ixion, she thought, eyes narrowing in speculation. Something permanently fatal, preferably. She shook her head, putting it aside for later.
They had spent the night on the long black couch built against the bandstand’s balustrade, facing the windows that looked out over the stern. In the moonlight the Veranda might have been some pocket of the fayre world, but it was a nightclub after all and the silver-banded walls, etched-glass balustrades and the matte black carpet should have looked tawdry in the dawn.MoreLess
“Hmm?” She yawned and blinked vaguely as Ilias rolled off the couch, shaking his hair out and grabbing for his pants. Dawnlight flooded the Veranda, and she had a good view of the two long strips of scar tissue that ran down his back. They stretched from the inside of his shoulder blades to just below the base of his spine. Ilias hadn’t said how it had happened, but she suspected it was a souvenir of his and Giliead’s last deadly encounter with Ixion. Ilias ha...dn’t said much about that either, except that Ixion had used a transformation curse on him and that Giliead had thought he would have to kill Ilias. We are going to have to do something about Ixion, she thought, eyes narrowing in speculation. Something permanently fatal, preferably. She shook her head, putting it aside for later.
They had spent the night on the long black couch built against the bandstand’s balustrade, facing the windows that looked out over the stern. In the moonlight the Veranda might have been some pocket of the fayre world, but it was a nightclub after all and the silver-banded walls, etched-glass balustrades and the matte black carpet should have looked tawdry in the dawn.MoreLess
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