“Help me turn around,” she requested.
Azrael leaned on their supportive arms, turning and arching her head over a wing to see her back. Her Acceptance shone bright, and her breath was taken away to see its true glory. A twirling pattern of gold and faint blue-like colors wound intricately from points on her buttocks, to a wide scene arching up the small of her back, winding between her wings, and crawling up like the tips of flames licking the nape of her neck. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Azrael reached around to touch the place on her back where her wings jutted out. A hard, white crust rimmed each wing-stem. Azrael couldn’t feel it from her back, just her fingers.
For a long moment, Azrael just let her eyes wander on the pattern. Beauty was deceiving. Hadn’t it cost the lives of Meretta and her Majesty to attain it? Could she allow herself to appreciate it?
As she stared at the Acceptance, her mind deciphered the design and a marvelous scene came to life. Like the Manor itself, intricate patterns wound with the fleeting Windborn language. The light surged and revealed spirals and characters for a passing moment, before it blurred into golden trails once again. Azrael marveled as it flowed with the spirals perfectly, and she wished desperately to know their meaning. Soon, she promised herself, she would learn everything.
The cool air eventually began to seep under her skin that had been warmed by the baths. The servants were well trained, and only after a single shiver had they brought her new robes to be worn. They were the kind she could never put on herself, a large band wove around her neck and supported the robes as they draped attractively over her chest. The servants elegantly moved, only fumbling once or twice to find the best way to wind the cloth past her wings in a way to help her support their weight.
She sighed at the sight of such a beautiful dress flattering her figure. If only she could spread her wings like Gabriel, she could truly do it justice.
The servants eased Azrael to the entrance of the bathing chambers until they came upon Gabriel standing somber. His eyes lingered only for a moment on the maidservant who’d lost her bells. His charming smile lit his face when his gaze was drawn to Azrael “You must be feeling better.”
Azrael sighed. “You have no idea.”
He eyed her up and down. “The Windborn robes fit you well.” His grin widened. “They were made for the males among us, but it seems all it took to feminize them was you.”
Azrael blushed as Gabriel shooed away the servants and took her arm around his shoulder with ease. “Back to bed with you. You’ve had enough exertions for today.”
“I don’t want to go back to that wretched bed,” Azrael said, frowning. “If I ever see it again, it’ll be too soon.”
He laughed. “I know, and I can understand. But you must rest. Your strength will return, albeit slowly. No good will come from rushing yourself. I can promise you that.”
With annoyance, Azrael silently obeyed his command to take to her bed and rest. At least while she’d been gone the Healers had changed the sheets and replaced them with silk. She was tired of being tired; and the last thing she wanted to do was to sleep, no matter how exhausted she felt. Furthermore, her thirst for revenge hadn’t been forgotten. If anything, the long, agonizing weeks had only intensified it.
Right now my goal is to heal. I must take this one step at a time. Meretta and Queen Ceres will be avenged! Azrael stubbornly glared at the golden tiles along the floor as Gabriel helped her move onto the bed. I will rest, and regain my strength. Once I have healed, I will serve justice.
Azrael wanted to lie on her back, but Gabriel said she would have to learn to sleep on her stomach. He didn’t want her breaking any feathers, especially since they were so new. And Azrael knew what he meant; anything that touched them ran invisible needles up her spine.
As her eyelids grew heavy, Azrael curled a pillow under her head. “Gabriel?” she whispered.
He knelt at the side of the bed. “Yes?”
“When I first met Mita, she introduced herself as Hyanthia Mitralia. I don’t want to call her Mita anymore. Her name is Hyanthia. Mita was a sweet girl and Meretta’s friend. Hyanthia is her murderer.”
Gabriel pinched his lips and Azrael closed her eyes, lest she see his disapproval. But his warm hand found her cheek and she willed herself to look at him. To her surprise, his blue gaze was fierce with righteous anger.
“Mita is already dead. Hyanthia took her place,” he agreed.
Azrael breathed a sigh of relief. She vowed to herself that Hyanthia too, would soon be dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
First Flight
Mita huddled in the back of her cell, barely lucid. The Healers would come in another few hours and force more of the putrid liquid down her throat. She couldn’t remember how much time had passed. Days? Weeks? It all ran together now.
She tried again to reach her demon, but the drugs seemed to interfere. She scratched the burned skin of her forehead around the fresh tattoo, fruitless efforts.
A jarring rattle against the prison bars forced her to sway her head over her shoulder.
“Sweeeeeet Mita... That’s what he calls you,” said a girl’s voice. Mita strained and could hardly see a thing. The poison and lack of nourishment had rendered her vision useless.
“Who...” Mita tried to form the word as her cracked lips puckered. The effort came as a long drawl with expelled air. But the girl understood.
“I’m your ally, sweet Mita. Come to me. Come.” The voice was cynical and high-pitched. But Mita trusted her. She said the words that only he would know. Mita jerked her arm and flopped over on her side.
“Yes, yes, that’s it! Come closer.”
Mita took the one arm that seemed to function and dragged herself across the grainy floor. The pit of her chamber was covered in sand, a countermeasure to her excrement. When she was herself again...
Mita reached the bars and grasped her working hand onto them. Her other arm hung limp and useless over her chest.
The girl reached in-between the bars and lifted a small vial to Mita’s mouth. It didn’t smell sour like the Healer’s tonics, but sweet. Mita greedily drank the offering.
“Yes, sweet Mita. This will take time to have an effect, but it’ll repel the poisons they feed you. You will gain new strength. Then, you come to us. Yes. Come to us.”
Mita blinked her watering eyes at the girl. Faint lucidity was returning to her vision and she could make out the frail form guised in silk robes with a pink sash.
“You... Who...” Mita strained to say.
“I’m one of many who worship our clan master.” The girl reached into the cell and stroked Mita’s face. The tiny silver bells at her wrists had blood on them.
Mita almost purred as the girl’s hand swept down her cheek. It was the first kind touch she’d felt since being banished here.
“You have joined a powerful master. He claims humans, and occasionally, a Windborn or two. But Hallowed? You are a treasure, sweet Mita. You mean so much to us. Why did you stay? Why not come to us when the deed had been done?” The girl’s voice was chiding, but soft.
Mita had no words to offer. Instead, a growl rumbled in the base of her throat.
The servant girl laughed. The tones were delicate, but tinged with madness. “You’re angry. You needed to taste the sweetness of your revenge against the Princess. I understand.”
Mita tried to talk, but spittle foamed at her mouth.
The girl shushed her and stroked her cheek, but Mita had one important question.
“Please... His name...”
The girl smiled as Mita struggled to keep her eyes open. “Your demon? He’s called Xorn.”
For the first time, Mita noticed the dark shade that was overtaking her skin. She held her arm up and examined it with effort.
“Your change has begun. They can’t stop it. Come to us when your strength returns, sweet Mita. Complete your transformation.”
A wicked grin spread slowly acro
ss Mita’s face.
After a month of recuperation, and learning to gain control of her delicate wings, Azrael impatiently waited for Gabriel’s announcement that she was fit to dole out Mita’s judgment. When he entered her chambers grim-faced, she knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.
“Azrael, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he began.
“What kind of bad news?” Azrael inched around in her chair. Her wings were uncooperative and bulged out in every direction. Stress destroyed any tentative control she had over the unruly things.
Gabriel’s jaw clenched before he answered. “Hyanthia has escaped.”
Azrael intended to jump out of her chair, but a wing caught on the edge of the desk and she went sprawling to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and clutched at Gabriel’s robes.
“What? She can’t escape. She murdered them! You promised she would get a just punishment. By me. You promised!”
Delicately, he disengaged Azrael’s clenched fingers from the silk fibers of his robe. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
She snarled and tried to hit him, pound his chest no matter what little damage she could do.
He held her wrists, probably to keep her from hurting herself. “This is Mehmet’s doing,” he said. “This isn’t over.”
Azrael’s bore her gaze into him. How could he let her escape like this? This is unacceptable! How could he?
“I felt a presence when I was in the halls,” he continued. “And I went as fast as I could to the dungeons. But by the time I got there, she was gone. Luckily, there were no Healers in the room at the time of her escape, or surely they would have been made victims.”
Azrael stared, hardly able to comprehend his words. All she could hear was the one meaning she had left in life had now escaped...all because of him.
“I don’t care about stupid Healers! With their smelly potions and salves. I hope they all die!” Azrael screamed and her voice cracked.
Gabriel let go of her wrists and she began to beat her fists violently against his chest. But her strength was not what it once was, and shortly after she fell against him, soaking his robes with salty tears. Without saying a word he embraced her. His large wings encased her body. Azrael clutched her own wings tightly against her back as rage and grief rolled in great tremors through her body.
Her wings trembled, still twitching as if agitated by her outburst. Gabriel ignored it and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Azrael shivered when he grazed her feathers.
“Gabriel, she killed them,” Azrael pressed. “I have nothing left except my revenge. Nothing at all.”
“They will be avenged, I promised you that. I don’t break my promises.”
Azrael’s tear-streaked face looked up to his. His gaze was distant. Lost in a forgotten time and place. Without thinking, she reached up and stroked a white eyebrow with her thumb until his face softened. She watched him silently, and unspoken they shared a moment of understanding. Her hand fell and she leaned her face against his hard chest.
“What do we do now?” Azrael asked.
His hand stroked her back underneath the roots of her wings. “We’ll leave tomorrow for Celestia. You are skilled enough now to fly. A Windborn girl has been chosen to be the next Terran Queen and will undergo the Acceptance. Another angelic Ambassador has already been chosen to guide her through the process.” Azrael stiffened at the news. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how much you have been through already. But now it’s time for us to move on.”
Numbly, Azrael nodded. He’d never intended for her to take her place as Mistress of Manor Saffron.
An ache throbbed in her chest. She knew deep down that as a Windborn with wings, she couldn’t be exposed to the general public. True reign as Terra’s Queen was impossible. Her rule was now meant for Celestia, and had she not such revenge seated in her heart, it would have been a kingdom far greater than the human’s realm could possibly ever be. And yet, it seemed the one thing she wanted would forever be out of her reach.
Her fists clenched onto his robes with a flash of anger. She made herself relax and buried her face further into the ruffles of the cloth. I trust you, Gabriel.
Azrael wondered if he could read her thoughts, for he stroked her dark hair thoughtfully.
“I’ll be by your side, Azrael. Since the day I met you, it was determined by fate that I would be your protector. And even if I may be a failure in your eyes, I give you everything I have to give.”
His words were delicate and soft. A part of Azrael wanted to hate him. Wasn’t it his fault that Hyanthia escaped? Hadn’t he been charged with protecting the Queen? Grief choked her throat and she clutched onto him. No matter if she hated him or loved him, he was the only goodness she had left.
After she had managed to regain her composure, Gabriel let her slump onto her chair. Azrael didn’t want to see her reflection and angled herself away from the mirror. She knew her eyes were red and puffy as she placed a hand to her heated cheek. Gabriel offered an encouraging smile as he stroked her arm.
Somberly, she looked up to him. “You have nothing to look so sorry for, Gabriel. I don’t blame you,” she lied. If he was all she had left, she couldn’t push him away.
He nodded. “You’ve been through so much. I wouldn’t blame you if you accused me of neglecting my duties and allowing Hyanthia to escape.” He leaned, drawing her in with the intensity of his gaze. “I do promise you your revenge, Azrael. As much as revenge is considered a sin, there’s a fine line between that and justice. Therefore, I will do all that is in my power to keep my promise to you. We will find her. And justice will be served. But this will come in its own time and place. We must move on, for now, for your own safety.”
Azrael didn’t voice her anger, frustration, and confusion. Instead, she buried her head in her hands and sighed. “I understand.”
“Let us get some sleep then, and rest. For tomorrow will be a difficult journey.” He grinned. “Your first flight.”
Azrael rewarded him with a strained smile and climbed into her bed.
Gabriel ruffled his feathers and snuggled into his chair, his arms folded and his chin rested lightly on his chest. Within moments, Azrael marveled as his breath came slow and deep.
Azrael clenched her fists, empty with nothing but air and her thirst for revenge. Hyanthia had escaped her grasp.
She’s out there... Somewhere. How can I wallow in pity and silk sheets?
She shifted her wings and sighed. She held back a whimper as depression weaved through her body like an unwelcome chill. She needed to get out. Get out of this room. Get out of this cursed Manor. Get away from the steady rhythm of pain and suffering that had become the heartbeat of her home.
I can’t stand one more night in this place.
Azrael pushed herself up and glanced at Gabriel. He seemed in a deeper sleep than usual.
He must be exhausted from flying back and forth to the Council all the time. Good. Let him sleep.
Leaning on the edge of the bed until the tips of her toes rested on the floor, she glanced at Gabriel. He didn’t budge. She swept out of the room.
Azrael’s heart longed for comfort, for something to bring it hope. The gardens had become a place of refuge, and so she went to it without thinking. Scarcely any servants were roaming the halls at this hour, so her passage was unhindered.
Outside, a loving wind kissed her cheek, forcing a light smile on her face. The scents of night-blooming flowers embraced her in the humid darkness. The moon gave light to the silvered paths encircling the grand fountain. The only sound was the water as it kept its never-ending struggle to reach the heavens.
Looking up to the sky, Azrael pondered what star the fountain desperately was trying to reach. Wind caught under her feathers and they fanned out in reaction. A laugh escaped from her throat. She was pleased that control of her wings had progressed so much.
Azrael’s wings shrank and flexed at her back. I’ll be taken away to the Windborn city tomorrow… What
if this is my last chance for revenge? No... To serve justice?
Hesitating, Azrael’s wings squished up against her back tightly. She shook her head with defiance.
“I will not confine myself to conformity or propriety,” she announced to the watching flowers and singing water. As if in an encouraging response, a spurt of water lurched to the sky from the fountain. Taking that as a sign, Azrael gave her wings a great plunge toward the ground and was flung into the air.
Azrael suppressed a screech. Her strength surprised her. Flapping her wings with effort, she was lifted further and further into night. Fear stung until she felt the elation of flight. She giggled as the Manor shrank beneath her. Spanning around it, she was greeted by fields of dark green reflecting the silver moonlight.
Keeping in a quick and steady rhythm, Azrael climbed higher into the sky. She spread out her hands and delighted in the new rush of ecstasy. Gabriel had taught her a few things about flight, but it was nearly all theory and practiced moves on the ground. She hadn’t truly gotten to fly yet. But the sensation! It was freedom she’d always craved, the sense of absolute security and bliss. How Meretta would have loved it.
A grin stretched across her face. She was not only free, but safe. What could reach me here? What evil could possibly find me in this beautiful nothingness, this place of joy that surged from my heart and gave my wings flight?
For a short while, Azrael simply enjoyed the new sensations. She let the wind sing its new songs in her ears. On the surface, it was nearly as confined as she. But up here, away from the world and free, Azrael could truly hear its voice. It wove through her hair, sung through her feathers, and soared up with her higher and higher into the clouds.
Curiosity soon made her gaze wander downwards, to places below that she’d never seen. The Manor was nothing but a rose petal with the Inner Sanctum making it glow amid the looming shadows. She searched the land and spotted a span of blue. She squinted at the rippling reflections and realized it was a sea.
Fallen to Grace (Celestial Downfall Book 1) Page 20