38. Cat
Chapter thirty-eight
Cat
“ Z ariel!” I screamed. I had to do something. What could I do? They were angels, massive angels, locked in a fight to the death. Could Aniela help him? No. She could barely stand.
“Help him!” I called out to the watching angels. Were they just going to stand there and let this happen? Did they want Gadriel as the High Artist?
Suddenly there was a squelch, and Gadriel’s eyes widened. A dagger stuck out of the side of his head. How? Where?
Cael pushed aside the gathered angels and strode in front of us, taking in the scene, right as Gadriel’s body fell to the ground.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Cael said, pulling the dagger out of Gadriel’s head and wiping the blood off on the dead angel’s hair. Did that really happen? No one even tried to stop him. No one protested. I froze. I had just plucked Cael’s father, what was he going to do to me? Was he the High Artist now?
Aniela stumbled to Zariel, who swept her into his arms, the two of them bowed together, talking in hushed tones. Finally, after everything, Zariel had his sister again. No matter what happened, at least he had that. Gently, he held her face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. After a few moments they stood, facing the new complication. Together.
A complication that seemed … unfazed. Cael finished cleaning the dagger on his robe, staining it with what was left of Gadriel’s brain matter, and approached me. Zariel moved towards us. “Cael. Don’t. Blame me—”
I stepped back. The angel, who had just murdered another angel, towered over me, knife still very much in hand. I knew we weren’t the best of friends, but fuck .
No one would help me, other than Zariel. Could he? I clenched my fists—I didn’t know how to fight, but I’d try.
“Don’t worry,” Cael said suddenly, giving me first a grin, and then a wide bow, his robes billowing in a flourish. “I just wanted to be the first to say congratulations to the new Lady of the Ashen Mountain.”
“What?” I had to have misheard. What was this? Aniela told me that plucking the High Artist’s feathers would mean that he’d be dethroned from the shame of being laid bare by a human. There was absolutely nothing said about me taking his place. Nothing. I wasn’t an angel. I didn’t belong here .
“Um” —I looked around awkwardly—“don’t you want it? Or someone more … qualified?”
Cael laughed. “I’m his chosen successor—his son and heir. And I renounce it. It’s all yours.” He winked at me.
It wasn’t going to be this simple. It couldn’t be. Others wouldn’t allow it. Others—
“There’s better options than me.” What I knew of angelic politics swarmed in my mind. They were complicated, to say the least. And this mountain was a situation all its own. But still— me ? The Lady of the Ashen Mountain was the High Artist’s … mate.
“Once word spreads of how Father was trying to make himself a god and was disgraced,” Cael said this last part loudly so that everyone could hear, “I think others may change their minds about allegiances. Look at your leader— look at what he let a human do to him. A god? He couldn’t even handle his own library.” The High Artist laid still, twitching from the poison that was slowly wearing off. Yes, I poisoned him to take his feathers, but he put himself in a position where it was allowed to happen—and no one stopped me.
Cael turned back to me, expression serious. “We need to get home, Cat. And you are our best chance to have a place here while we work to do so. You have connections to this world—to the humans—that can help us. Father didn’t see it—didn’t want to. You and Zariel together can help us in a way no one else can. If you’re willing. And this is temporary— once we get home this matter will be returned to the queen, and someone permanent chosen as required under our laws.” This speech was for others as much as me. Cael was laying the groundwork for angels to understand our … leadership? Temporary leadership.
“You won’t be alone,” Cael said softly. “The High Artist has advisors. I don’t want the job, but I’m not going to abandon you.”
“You had better not,” Zariel said, smirking and moving next to me.
Zariel. I wanted to cry at the sight of him, alive and whole. His face was bruised, his lip and hands bloodied, but he was alive. Alive.
Ignoring Cael, Zariel placed a hand on my arm and he took me into his embrace, placing his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, letting it wash over my senses. Him. I was holding him.
“You came back for me,” he whispered.
“Always.”
“You should’ve stayed safe.”
“Without you, there is no point.”
We kissed slowly, savoring the fact that this was an embrace that fate could have too easily denied us. I was at his side, and I was never leaving it again.
“Am I really the Ashen Lady?” I whispered.
He smiled. “Yes, well, Lady of the Ashen Mountain. As your mate and an angel, I’m the High Artist. Temporarily. ”
“But—”
“It isn’t what I wanted, but Cael is right, someone needs to take the High Artist’s place—and if someone doesn’t take it now, someone worse will.”
“I see.”
“We’ll manage,” Zariel continued, “and we won’t be alone. Cael has supporters, and there are many who will listen to him. Many did not like the High Artist, and Cael’s right—while I may not be the best-qualified candidate, the factions will be in chaos. We need someone who will work to take us home above anything else—and I will do that. And this will be temporary— acting High Artist, so to speak.” He had repeated that point so many times. Was he just as in shock as me?
“And then? Once the worlds are returned?”
He looked into my eyes, heavy with emotion. “You are my star and my light. You are my solace and treasure. I love you. More than I can express.”
He didn’t ask if I was going to leave the mountain. He didn’t need to. There was no possibility I’d allow myself to stay behind while he possibly shifted back to his old world.
My heart filled with joy, I couldn’t contain it or the happy tears that formed on my cheeks. I’d have him, and I’d keep him, and that was what mattered. “I love you.” I stared at the carnage my scholar had wrought—two angels were unconscious on the ground near us. “But maybe you didn’t need me. You seem to have handled everything fine on your own.”
“I always need you. You saved me—in more ways than one.”
Though it pained me, I broke out of his arms and took in the room and the wreckage. Angels stared at me, and some bowed hesitatingly. More streamed in and out, and there was loud chatter that grew with each passing moment. Zariel was right—as the news of what the High Artist tried to do—and how he epically failed—broke out, there would be chaos. It was best for everyone if leadership was solidified now, before angels had time to plot. And Zariel was sincere in his desire to only be the temporary High Artist—he never gave me the slightest indication that he wanted the job. What was the saying, that those who desired power were the worst ones to have it? Exhibit A of that was laying on the floor, twitching harder as the minutes passed. Did the poison hurt? I hoped so.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked, inclining my head towards the High Artist.
“Can I decide, brother?” Aniela asked from where she was conversing with another angel a few feet from us, thick bruises forming on her neck and face.
Zariel smiled. “Of course. As long as it conforms with our laws.”
She grinned back. “Oh, it will. Don’t worry.”