House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

“Isaiah and I are on good terms.” And Naomi.

“I mean the others. The grunts. No friends there?”

“Why the Hel do you care?”

Baxian casually pulled in his wings. “I want to know what’s in it for me. What kind of life I can look forward to.”

“It’s what you make of it,” Hunt said, opening his door. Stale, dusty air greeted him. A far cry from the scent of coffee that filled Bryce’s apartment.

He peered over a shoulder to find Baxian surveying his room. The emptiness of it. A peek into Baxian’s room across the hall revealed an identically empty space.

Hunt said, “That’s what my life was like, you know.”

“Like what?”

“Vacant.”

“Then what happened?”

“Bryce happened.”

Baxian smiled slightly. Sadly. Was it—was it possible the Helhound was lonely?

“I’m sorry you have to stay apart from her for so long.” Baxian sounded like he meant it.

Hunt’s eyes narrowed. “Did Celestina punish you?”

“No. She said it was your bad influence, so it was your punishment to take.”

Hunt chuckled. “Fair enough.” He stepped into his room and made quick work of assessing his weapons and clothes.

When he reemerged into the hallway, Baxian was sitting at the pine desk in his room, going over what appeared to be reports. Every instinct screamed at Hunt to walk out and not say anything, to Hel with this male who’d been more of an enemy than a friend over the years, but …

Hunt braced a hand on the doorjamb. “What do they have you working on?”

“Progress reports for the new recruits. Seeing if there are any promising angels to pull up through the ranks.”

“Are there?”

“No.”

“Angels like us don’t come around that often, I guess.”

“Apparently not.” Baxian went back to his paperwork.

The quiet of the hall, the room, settled on Hunt. Pushed on him. He could hear Bryce saying, Come on. Try. It won’t kill you. She bossed him around even in his imagination. So Hunt said, “We’ve still got twenty minutes left of lunch. Want to play some SUL Sunball?”

Baxian turned. “What’s that?”

“You really don’t know anything about modern life, huh?” Baxian gave him a flat look. “SUL,” Hunt explained. “Sunball United League. It’s their video game. You can play from the point of view of any player, on any team. It’s fun.”

“I’ve never played a video game.”

“Oh, I know.” Hunt grinned.

Baxian surveyed him, and Hunt waited for the rejection, but Baxian said, “Sure. Why not?”

Hunt headed for the common room. “You might regret that in a few.”

Indeed, ten minutes later, Baxian was cursing, fingers stumbling over the controller clenched in his hands. Hunt nimbly dodged Baxian’s avatar.

“Pathetic,” Hunt said. “Even worse than I thought.”

Baxian growled, “This is so stupid.”

“And yet you keep playing,” Hunt countered.

Baxian laughed. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Hunt scored. “It’s not even satisfying playing against a novice.”

“Give me a day and I’ll wipe the floor with you, Athalar.” Baxian’s thumbs flicked the controls. His avatar ran right into a goalpost and rebounded, sprawling onto the grass.

Hunt snickered. “Maybe two days.”

Baxian glanced at him sidelong. “Maybe.” They kept playing, and when the clock above the door read twelve, Baxian asked, “Time to work?”

Hunt listened to the quiet dorm around them. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Didn’t I prove this morning that I’m the soul of discretion?”

“I’m still waiting for your motive, you know.”

“I’m not here to make an enemy of you.”

“I don’t get why.”

Baxian ran into the goalpost again, his avatar ricocheting onto the field. “Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get.” Baxian managed to gain control of the ball for all of ten seconds before Hunt took it from him. He cursed. “Solas. You can’t go easy on me?”

Hunt let the subject drop. The gods knew he’d had plenty he hadn’t wanted to talk about when he first arrived here. And the gods knew he’d done plenty of terrible shit on Sandriel’s orders, too. Maybe he should take his own advice from earlier. Maybe it was time to stop letting Sandriel’s specter haunt them.

So Hunt smiled roughly. “Where would the fun be in that?”

“This sucks,” Bryce muttered into the phone that night, splayed out on her bed. “You really aren’t allowed to leave?”

“Only for official 33rd work,” Hunt said. “I forgot how crappy the barracks are.”

“Your sad little room with its lack of posters.”

His laugh rumbled in her ear. “I’m going to be extra good so she’ll let me go early.”

“I won’t have anyone to watch Beach House Hookup with. You sure I can’t come over there?”