Fallen to Grace Page 7

There was one who wore a blue so dark it would have looked black in a duller light. Michael stood apart from the rest, a silver flute in hand and his eyes closed as the melody drifted across the bobbing crowd. To Azrael, he seemed like a dark songbird pouring out his soul to each drifting passerby. Azrael closed her eyes as she listened, and it was easier to read Michael’s heart without her blue eye and green eye battling for supremacy.

  While Michael’s melody was soft and gentle, one of Lumerian’s ballads intended for celebration, the tone drifted into a minor key. She could feel his conflicted heart, the sadness born of the hybrid’s murder. In another life, he could have been proud of what he’d done. But in this life, he knew Azrael, and she could feel how he questioned his own certainty, his own goodness. When Azrael opened her eyes and their gazes locked, she reeled with the power of the connection. He’d never be able to understand the morality of what he’d done, but she could.

  Meretta hooked Azrael’s arm and swept her out of Michael’s line of sight. Instead of pondering Michael’s ethics, she was reminded of the grandiose of Manor Saffron. Velvet drapes spanned the two-story ceiling and drooped to graze the floor, their length a hundred of her bedsheets put together. Each white pillar of the upper balcony was lined with strings of rose petals. It would have taken years to assemble such trimmings, but the birthplace of Windborn filled it with all the magic it needed. Even as she watched, the petals twisted and multiplied, twining upon themselves to cover any hint of the marble underneath.

  Azrael scanned the faces, each so joyous and uplifted. She found herself wistful, wondering if they’d be so jovial if they knew their Princess mingled in the waltz among them, boasting the blood of a demon in her veins.

  A waft of buttery bread made Azrael’s mouth fill with saliva and she veered for the bobbing plate, grateful for the distraction. Azrael ripped off a white glove so as not to dull it with grease and snatched a flakey treat from the disapproving servant, not wasting any time and shoving it into her mouth.

  Meretta burst out in a delightful laugh. “See? You’re already having a good time.”

  Azrael grinned, as well as she could with the pastry crammed against her teeth, and had to admit she was right. How often could the Windborn enter the birthing chamber? Only when there was a new arrival, which was a depressing sight indeed, or when there was something to celebrate—which wasn’t often. And Azrael had something to celebrate, did she not? Perhaps Meretta was right. She would soon be Queen, and change how all Windborn were treated. New arrivals would no longer be pitied. They would be celebrated as well.

  Meretta’s eyes sparkled with delight and she shifted her weight, flowing into the swirl of the crowd, unable to contain her legs and arms any longer from joining in the dance.

  Azrael nibbled on the remainder of her pastry as she watched Meretta swirl. The sight of her undiluted joy was all Azrael needed to feel like there was light and hope left in the world. And it wasn’t just their dance master’s teachings that gave Meretta such grace—she was Windborn. Grace was in her nature.

  A young Windborn male caught Meretta by the waist and shot Azrael a mischievous smile.

  As fast as she’d been uplifted, her spirits fell and her face hardened. No doubt, this was Meretta’s Windborn admirer.

  Michael’s flute fell into silence and his gaze found her once again. Azrael couldn’t read his expression from this distance, but an ominous wave swept out and latched onto her throat like a vice.

  Azrael’s breath hitched. Is this my magic?

  Meretta stumbled and the handsome Windborn pulled her to his side. Azrael couldn’t hear his words, but his lips moved with a slimy grin plastered across his face.

  Azrael pushed through the crowd, determined to save Meretta or die trying. But as she grew closer, her lungs tightened and Michael’s unmistakable presence loomed over her like a dark cloud. His emotions raged with such power that Azrael swam in them dizzy and disoriented.

  “Michael,” Azrael whispered at the revelation.

  She’d never known such sorrow. He held no doubt about his righteousness, not until he’d met Azrael. His obsession with her went deeper than she’d realized. He envied that she could judge the world with both sides, and he was half-blind. He hated her for it.

  “Azrael.” Her name was on his lips and the room snapped back into reality.

  The waltz continued and Meretta was swept away by the crowd. She shot Azrael a firm look paired with a nod, one that said, “I can take care of myself.”

  Azrael gazed up at Michael and blinked furtively.

  He tilted his head. “Would you mind coming with me?”

  Dazed, Azrael had no choice but to follow as Michael took her wrist and whisked her out of the room.

  “Where have you been?” he asked when they’d left the celebratory clamor and replaced it with muted song in the halls of Manor Saffron.

  “I was in isolation,” Azrael said truthfully. “After the hybrid...the Mistress—”

  He took a threatening step forward. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Azrael blinked, confused. “I’m not.”

  He clenched his fists. “I need your orb.”

  “W-what?”

  “Your orb,” he articulated. “Where is it? Have you already used it? It’s important.”

  Azrael shook her head slowly from side-to-side. “Why would you think I had an orb at all?”

  “You’re a hybrid, Azrael. You have an orb, even if you wanted others to think you didn’t. Don’t play dumb.” He took another step forward, his breath puffing hot against her face. “Where is it?”

  Azrael stepped back but was met with the cool wall. Her heel thumped painfully against it and she winced. “And if I gave it to you?”

  He slammed his fist against the wall, just inches from her head. “I’d save you. Let me take the demon off your hands. Let me take his attention.”

  Azrael glowered. “An orb doesn’t work like that. If the demon wanted you, you’d have an orb of your own to torment your nights.”

  He leaned, his lips just inches from hers. “You already torment my nights.”

  Azrael pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. With it, a warmth swelled in her lower back and burned through her limbs, sparking out a wave that sent Michael flying.

  He landed across the hall and thumped hard against the piling.

  Azrael stomped her way to him and enjoyed the moment to tower over him as he’d done to her a hundred times before.

  He gasped for breath and held his stomach. “I’ll venture that...you’ve already used it.”

  Azrael scoffed. “Yes. Okay. I used my orb. But it’s not what you think. I asked for an opportunity to change my fate. How’d I know that opportunity would be to become Queen?”

  He peered up at her. “Queen.” He breathed it as if he already knew, but hearing it was still a shock. He blinked a few times, his eyes looking tired and rimmed with red. “What was the price?”

  Azrael crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t kill the demon.” No sense lying to Michael. He was a driven person. Best tell him the truth and let him do what he would with it.

  He laughed and sputtered. “And the demon took that deal? You must have a dumb demon father.”

  Azrael narrowed her eyes. “He’s not my father. We don’t have fathers.”

  Michael grinned. “He made you what you are. What’s a father, other than that?”

  She glowered. “And if I hadn’t used my orb? What were your intentions with it?”

  He sobered and looked down at his hands, and Azrael wondered if he were imagining blood on them. “I would have asked to be like you.”

  AZRAEL LEFT MICHAEL with his blue eyes and disappointment. He could never be like her. He’d always be stuck in his ways, unable to see the world as she did. He had no place in her life. And now that she had access to her royal magic, she could do something about it. The deal with her demon was paying off.

  Azrael scanned the crowd and found Meretta sipp
ing from a fluted glass filled with sparkling golden liquid, no slimy Windborn male in sight.

  Azrael made her way to Meretta’s side and gave her a curious smile. “Where’d you hide the body?”

  She giggled. “After you left with Michael, I told him that you two had gotten close. The last thing Michael needed was an errant subordinate hitting on Azrael’s best friend.”

  Azrael nodded with approval. “Good. Hope that scared him off.”

  Meretta turned the glass in her palm, seeming smug. “Sure did.” She took another sip and then flicked her gaze to Azrael. “So, what’d Michael want?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He can’t get it.”

  Meretta hummed. “Who can get what they want these days?”

  Azrael scratched her burning back and winced as the dress stuck to the sores. “Hopefully, I can. For all our sakes.”

  Meretta gave her an approving smile before setting her glass down and swirling her onto the dance floor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Queenly Duties

  AZRAEL had made it back to her chambers just as the illuminated motes danced across the slit in the curtains in promise of a new day.

  She sat on the overly plush bedding and the air felt cold and lonely, despite the warm glow of Manor Saffron’s Inner Sanctum. Rubbing her face, she groaned and peered at the statue of a woman that seemed to be watching her. The figure’s white marble eyes showed pity and disappointment. She was the embodiment of all Azrael’s fears. She wasn’t strong enough to be Queen. She couldn’t possibly change anything if she were. She— Azrael looked away.

  Her back burned and her mind buzzed with the fleeting thoughts that came with lack of sleep. Just as she was about to resign herself to lying awake, she spotted an ornate door she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps the statue’s disappointment guarded it, or perhaps this was magic. The Queen hadn’t wished her to find it, until now.

  Azrael cautiously tiptoed to the golden door, carefully stepping around the stone guardian. She turned the knob and the door eased open without a sound. She slipped inside and adjusted to the dim glow of the room. There were no windows, but as she waited for her eyes to adjust, the Divine-lit walls illuminated until she could see the entire room clearly. She gasped as a massive library was revealed, wall-to-wall shelves spanning a room almost as large as the celebratory chamber she’d danced her cares away. But here, there wouldn’t be prying stares. Here, scrolls and books and inks would be much more valued company.

  Azrael dazedly wandered to the far end of the room, running her fingers across blood-red velvet couches. The couches surrounded a table that boasted three books, and the plush furniture begged her to test their comfort. She pondered lying on it and falling asleep among the unspoken knowledge of this room, but an extravagant study desk drew her attention. Framed by silver shelves stuffed with books and bottles of ink, the allure of knowledge called to her like the moon calls the sea. Azrael drifted to the shelves first, examining the titles and furrowing her brow when she realized the language was foreign.

  On this side of the room, the marble floor was cool and the Divine heat was absent. She squeezed her arm through the shelves and books, and found the wall cool, painted over with metallic paint. Would these books be weakened by the Light? What did that mean?

  Azrael returned to the velvet chairs and reexamined the three books laid out on the table. Their titles read: “The History of Hallowed,” “The Forbidden Records: Volume One,” and the last was written in swirling foreign letters that she could not read.

  The door slammed.

  Panicked, Azrael jumped from the couch and stared at the blocked exit. Decorated with countless jewels and bangles, the Queen eyed her with a mischievous smile.

  “Eager to begin our studies, I see.” Her voice rang through the room as she stepped forward. Embroidered cloth shoes had replaced her usual heels, and she did not make a sound in her approach. Her garb constantly morphed to match that of her latest visitor.

  Azrael rubbed her shoulders with discomfort. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was only looking for...” Her voice faltered to find a good excuse. She squirmed in the uncomfortable silence.

  The Queen waved strands of bronze hair from her face as she crossed into the study. “Don’t fret yourself so, Azrael. This room, is in fact, your personal study. And I,” she placed a silky hand on Azrael’s cheek, “am to be your teacher.” The Queen’s rings were cold on her face. But Azrael welcomed it and smiled back.

  “I have many duties, Azrael, but you are my most important one. If you are to be Queen, it is imperative that you learn all I know.” The Queen motioned to the books laid on the table, and Azrael realized they’d been intended for her. “You must strive to learn all the basics before your Acceptance is completed. However unlikely, there is always the possibility you are the next Alexandria. In which case, you will have many other pressing matters to attend to, far greater than that of becoming Queen of Terra. While a Queen is always needed to bring our children home, and raise them, a true Queen must live in Celestia, as she will have an entire race to lead.”

  Azrael bit her lip. An entire race? Were there more Windborn? Did they have no Queen?

  “Learning cannot take place without answers,” the Queen said. “I cannot answer unspoken questions.”

  Azrael wanted to retort that she could, but took in a breath and held it a moment before breathing it out. “Aren’t you Queen?”

  The Queen nodded. “Yes, though only recognized by the Terraborn, the humans. The angels are still waiting for their Queen. The Council has ruled in the void, and I can tell you, it’s a poor system.”

  Azrael’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  The Queen tucked a lock of hair behind Azrael’s ear. “What else troubles you?”

  Could she read every emotion so easily?

  “Majesty, please forgive my forwardness, but I must know. I cannot fathom why our entire society has been lied to for so many years. Why have the angels remained a secret? Why is your magic kept to a tolerable rumor? The only spark of truth in our halls is the myths of legends that are told by traveling minstrels.” Azrael watched the Queen closely for any hint of a lie.

  Queen Ceres adjusted one of the bangles on her arm. “That is a difficult answer to give. However, I can assure you the truth has been kept silent at no small price.” Her gaze grew distant. “Many have died at the hands of angels. I don’t fully know, nor understand, the logic of their ways. But it is Angelic Law that their presence remains hidden. I have sought all my life since my Acceptance for the answer to why their secrecy is so holy that it justifies eons of murder.”

  “Murder?” Azrael ventured.

  Azrael wasn’t sure, but the Queen’s skin seemed to pale just a shade.

  When the Queen didn’t answer, Azrael glanced at the book written in the strange language. The Queen followed her gaze and picked it up, her fingers tracing the engraved letters. “This is a sacred book from the Windborn city. Even Gabriel doesn’t know it’s here. Though, he surely must suspect it.”

  Azrael looked again at the strange symbols.

  “The man I loved died to retrieve this book for me.”

  Azrael jolted at the Queen’s revelation and clenched her jaw to prevent it from falling open.

  “After he gave it to me, I never saw him again.” The Queen’s eyes misted, then control rippled through her body, leaving her stoic. She placed the book on Azrael’s lap. “I learned of his death after years of hoping he had found sanctuary. Yet, I was wrong, and he paid the ultimate price for my folly to understand Celestia.” She shook her head and her turquoise earrings glinted in the dim Divine-light filtering through layers of shelved books. “Hopefully, you will find answers where I have failed.”

  Failing to keep her jaw clasped, Azrael gawked at her. In such few words she had spurred untold questions.

  “Who was he?” Azrael asked, knowing full well she was pushing her authority with the Queen.

  The Queen closed her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Azrael knew she couldn’t go any further. The pain that strained the Queen’s face made it clear that now was not the time to press her. Instead, Azrael considered the book still in her lap. It was leathery and faded, and when she ran a hand over the cover, it felt as if it were an object that didn’t belong. Physically, it seemed like an ordinary book. But an otherworldly and ancient aura emanated from it. The moment her finger traced the engraved symbols, a burning radiated from her healing Acceptance. Azrael gasped, not in pain, but in surprise.

  The Queen softened her gaze, and grinned. “Yes, it has that effect on royalty.”

  Azrael gave her a wary laugh, but when the feeling receded, she said nothing more.

  THE book from Celestia was a forbidden treasure, one that Azrael hoped to decipher. She would have to learn the Windborn tongue, and it was all the motivation she needed to dive head-first into her studies.

  For the next two weeks Azrael delved into ancient knowledge. Her days blurred, lonely studies in the dim library broken by the highlight of Gabriel’s teachings.

  Today’s lesson was with the Queen instead of Gabriel, since he had gone to Celestia. Instead of being disappointed, Azrael seized the opportunity to get the truth out of Queen Ceres, once and for all.

  As they sat in silence, the Queen took a rare moment to appreciate the beauty of the gardens. Azrael watched her, wondering how her approaching retirement made her feel. The Queen’s face was calm, almost serene as she watched the fountain’s display with folded hands. Her left shoulder sunk slightly lower than her right, giving her a semblance to a flawless statue. It wasn’t like the statue in her room, full of foreboding. The Queen seamlessly exuded sensuality and power. It was a skill taught at the Manor, one Azrael had never mastered. She marveled and envied the Queen’s beauty and poise.

  The Queen must have sensed Azrael watching her, for her crystal green eyes snatched onto hers. The wave of emotion that swept through Azrael’s chest was questioning and searching.