Above the Ashen Clouds (Twisted Worlds #2)

16. Zariel

Chapter sixteen

Zariel

W hen I was a boy, barely old enough to start my formal lessons, my father took me to the capital’s city market. We were noble, so going to where our dinner was purchased and butchered wasn’t something we did. Even with all our knowledge, we angels were still vulnerable to greed and status, and there were many who toiled in as base a manner as any human peasant. In fact, most of us did so.

That day, I couldn’t wait to see the market, and it didn’t disappoint. There were weapons crafted by the leshi, jewels made by the sirens, mirrors from the rusalki, not to mention the myriad works of art made by humans—the rugs, pottery, and clothing. I had never imagined such an assortment of things or creatures in my life.

But then we saw the butcher. And the cattle. And the blood .

When the tears flowed from my eyes and my dreams of the market dashed, Father explained that I had to understand the ugliness and brutality of the world before I could appreciate its beauty. He was gentle, but he was right—it was a lesson I had to learn.

For a similar reason, around a week after our encounter with Gadriel in the library, I finally decided that I needed to take Cat to the places that I had been so reluctant for her to see. Gadriel complicated things, and his resentment could manifest in unknown ways. If she was going to stay with me for the foreseeable future, it wouldn’t help her to be ignorant of what surrounded her. And that included the prison.

And where our magic was made.

Our mountain was a temple of knowledge, and the most valuable things were always paid for in blood.

“Would you prefer to fly down?” I asked Cat. “Otherwise, there are footpaths.”

Cat peered over the edge in the atrium, her hand clutching mine for safety, the other hand tugging her skirts high so she wouldn’t trip. There was no railing, just a sheer drop hundreds of feet to the ground. She went to me for safety. Me . Who cared that it was probably just my wings that made her cling to me? I’d take any touch she’d allow me, and live that precious moment over and over until the memory abandoned me. Cat turned to me, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Would you be willing to take us down?”

“Of course,” I said, trying to contain my excitement .

In one movement, before she could read anything on my face, I took her into my arms and was almost undone by the nearness of her. The way her scent mixed with mine, the sound of her breath, the way her eyes focused on me with a trust I had not yet earned. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her head pressed against my chest, her form fitting against me as perfectly as ice nestled against water.

What would happen if we did give into the bond? Would it be such a bad thing?

At least then I’d always have the memory of her, even after she left this mountain and we returned to our world. Now that Gadriel was involved, I had another danger to be wary of, and another reason why she couldn’t stay. I’d get permission from the Artists to leave and take her home to her people tonight if that was what she wanted—if the prison made her think twice about staying with me.

Effortlessly, I jumped off the edge, gliding downward, ever downward, past endless levels of apartments, meeting rooms, galleries, kitchens, and everything else that made the Ashen Mountain a kingdom unto itself. The mountain changed with each bit of the descent, turning darker and colder, until we were overcome with shadows, like clouds passing in front of the sun. Cat held me tighter, and it wasn’t from fear of the fall—it was because of where we were. Did she sense the wrongness about this place, feel the same urge to leave ?

I landed on the ground with a soft thud and set her down in front of me—all to meet the stares of four angelic guards.

“She was curious, and the High Artist didn’t restrict the parameters of her stay,” I explained to them. No, he didn’t restrict her, but he didn’t give permission, either. Hopefully she wouldn’t want to go inside. That could’ve pushed the High Artist’s “generosity” too far.

One guard nodded, though their faces were impassive. They knew who I was. After Aniela’s trial, everyone did.

Cat stood next to me, frozen like a rock from the mountain itself. Distant screams echoed from within the prison’s depths, the tunnel that led even further underground. The only light was from the guards’ torches, a smoldering glow from deep within, and the distant light from the outside that shone high above us, not daring to reach so far into the darkness.

None of the beauty of the atrium was here, none of the trees and vines, none of the artwork that decorated our home. There was nothing here but death and despair.

“How”?she coughed?“how many prisoners are there?”

“Thousands, human,” one of the guards replied. “Guilty of everything from trespassing to murder.” The last phrase was said with a pointed gaze at me.

“All of them are angels?”

“Of course not,” another guard said. “While the library covers every topic, our prison holds every creature. I think there’s even a human or two that are likely lonely by now, if you’d like to see.”

Cat paled, even for her, though the guard told her nothing she didn’t already know.

“Let’s go,” I said, stifling the anger that rose in my chest. Taunting Cat, with prison? With torture? For what? Only my familiarity with the guards’ crassness—abrasive at the best of times—and knowledge that there was nothing I could do that wouldn’t ultimately hurt Cat, restrained me. Instead, she ducked her head and stepped closer, her body all but pressed against mine.

“Goodbye. For now,” one of the guards said.

No, I wouldn’t attack the guards. But if they took a step towards her there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure that was the last step they took.

Cat and I turned and walked in silence through the dim tunnels, slowly making our way back up through the mountain. I’d fly her to my chambers, but there was something else I wanted to show her first.

“Thank you,” she said to me once were far away from the guards.

“What for?” I asked.

“I wanted to see the prison. Turns out that was a mistake.”

“Never think that. You’re my mate, there’s nothing in this mountain that you are not welcome to. Even its darkness.” My throat caught. I hadn’t meant to call her my mate. She blushed, but didn’t seem offended .

She didn’t seem offended.

Maybe … maybe we could spend the time we had together as we wanted, long-term consequences be damned. I’d make her no promises I couldn’t keep, but would it be such a shame to indulge in what nature had given us?

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“What do you mean? Oh, the guards? That was just posturing, and even before Aniela, they were never friendly with me. They’re noble born, yes, but spend long enough in the darkness and you become part of it.”

“But you said they are rotated out. To avoid this.”

“Yes. But some are not moved as often as they should be.” I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Do not worry. They won’t harm you.”

We fell silent, and my thoughts returned to the prison. Yes, the guards were always callous, but now there was something more behind their words. Their looks. Or was I just imagining things, fed by my own fear and Cat’s worry? By the threat of Gadriel?

I wish I had Cael to talk to, but he was still gone, sequestered wherever the High Artist kept him. And now that I thought about it, Cassiel, Daniel, and Muriel were still gone as well. I thought they were avoiding me because of the mate bond, but I hadn’t even seen them in passing, too long for normal assignments that required constant attention. I had been so distracted by Cat that I hadn’t paid much attention until now. Were they on the same assignment as Cael? The mountain was massive, and it wasn’t uncommon for someone to go weeks without seeing a friend, but all of them, absent from me right when I brought a human mate home? Something was off.

And then there was the High Artist’s announcement, lurking behind it all. An announcement that had been repeatedly delayed.

“We’re here,” I whispered to Cat once we came to a non-descript door in the tunnel.

She inspected it, lips pursed. “Where’s here?”

“Where our magic is made.”

Cat whipped around to face me, eyes wide. Her golden hair shone even in this muted light, ethereal—a perfect match for any angel. “It is?”

“Yes.”

It was time to show her that there was more to us than beauty, and that we traded in death as well as knowledge.

Carefully, I twisted the handle and opened the door, revealing a dark chamber that was large enough to hold hundreds comfortably. Unlike the rest of the mountain, this room was made of a polished black rock that we called bloodcatcher, which lined every surface and encased us entirely. In the center of the room, barely visible in the light from the few torches that were perpetually lit, was a wide altar, its polished surface marred with long gashes .

“What happens here?” Cat asked, breaking the reverent silence. Her hand still clutched mine desperately, her breath coming out in short gasps.

“I will tell you in our rooms,” I said, looking around to make sure that we were, in fact, alone. “For you to understand us, you need to know everything. And because of what I’m going to tell you, I need you to see this to make sure you believe me.”

“No worries there,” she said, “I’d believe you regardless. But why risk telling me? You could get in trouble for telling—showing—me this. Even I can see that. There’s no way that the Artists would be ok with me knowing their secrets.”

She was right. And I suspected that our freedom to wander—for her to even be here— came from two possible things. One, that the High Artist knew that he would be successful in bringing us home so that he didn’t care what one human knew. Or two, this was a test. He wanted to see what I would do with her, and what I would share. Here we were, engaging in a risk to my reputation that was so precarious after Aniela, and yet no one had intervened. Was I failing this test? Probably. But her safety was at risk. The High Artist was plotting something, I was sure of it. But what? And why?

I straightened my shoulders. Technically, I was doing nothing wrong. As my mate, she was entitled to go where I went, and I was allowed to be here, and thus, she was too .

“Let me worry about the Artists,” I said, but the furrow in her brow remained. “Do you want to stay here? Because I swear, I will help you off this mountain now and bring you home, if you desire it.” I would, though a part of myself would be leaving with her.

“I want to stay with you.” My treacherous heart leapt, uncaring at the deeper danger it was falling into, the pain that would only be stronger when she decided it was time to go.

I forced a smile, fighting both joy and sorrow, relief and worry. She would be with me, but in doing so, she would possibly be in danger. The mate bond constantly called to me, but it was now guided along by something more subtle, something that would eventually grow to overshadow the bond should I allow it. I cared for her, this human who had become the star in my night.

“If you’re going to stay with me, you need to know what we’re capable of.” I swallowed. Would she hate me, be disgusted by me once she learned the truth? Her jaw set, preparing for whatever I was going to tell her once we were back in the safety of my rooms. “I can’t protect you if you don’t understand the dangers that you could face—and what angels are willing to do for power.”