“Loyal they’re not,” he added as if I hadn’t spoken. “I had a Protector once. He was my age, and we were raised together. He was my best friend. A brother.”

“I really don’t care,” I said. “Just being honest.”

He turned his head toward me as Zayne kept a distance between them. “I killed him. Pulled his heart straight from his chest. I didn’t want to. I had to.”

“Cool story, bro.” Zayne’s wings swept down. “Sorry if I sound repetitive, but I don’t care, either.”

“But don’t you want to get to know me? Know how it’s possible that there’s another Trueborn? My name? Or how long I’ve been watching? Waiting?” He paused. “You two have been very naughty.”

“I’m not sure what part of I don’t care is confusing to you, but let me repeat myself. I don’t care what your name is or who your daddy is.” I felt the grace roar through me. “All I want to know is how to break the wards trapping the spirits in that school—”

“You don’t want to know about Misha?” he interrupted.

My heart faltered.

“What he told me about you—I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he said, picking up on Zayne’s quiet advance from behind. “I’m in a charitable mood, Protector. Do not test it.”

“I’m in a murderous mood,” Zayne snarled. “Please do test it.”

“If you force me to kill you, I have a feeling everything will go south quickly.”

“The fact you think you can kill me just proves how far south things have already gone,” Zayne shot back. “You may be a Trueborn, but you touched Trinity, and that alone gives me more than enough strength to shatter every pathetic bone in your body, one by one. I won’t kill you, though.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I’ll just force you onto your shattered kneecaps, so she can deliver the death blow.”

God.

I wanted to kiss Zayne, right here and now.

“Speaking of delivering death blows,” he countered, focusing on me. “Interesting you and I can tick killing our Protectors off on our shared-experiences list.”

“I don’t care what you have to say about Misha,” I said, and I almost believed myself. “I want to know how to break the wards.”

“Jealousy is a terrible thing,” he said instead. “That was Misha’s sin. Envy. He was told he was special, and he was dying to believe that. Literally.”

I stiffened.

“It’s such a human emotion.” He shrugged. “I want you to know my name.”

“I want you to just answer my damn question,” I snapped.

“My name is Sulien—”

“For real?” Zayne cracked. “Sullen? That’s your name?”

He sighed. “Not the way you’re thinking it’s spelled.”