Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ophelia
Jezebel had assumed the chambers at the far end of the opposite corridor from me and Malakai, a wide stairway separating the hallways. “I do not wish to share a corridor with the two reunited lovers each night, thank you, sister,” she had said when I requested she move closer.
Malakai had smirked at her implication, and I felt the glow of his male ego from across the room.
I had ducked my head, choosing not to voice the fact that we were arguing over his lies much more than we were in bed together—though the latter had become my favorite distraction.
Not to mention the fact that the suites were so large, she’d never hear anything through the multiple rooms we each had.
It was a bit odd how we had all settled so smoothly into the Revered’s dwelling over the days following the Undertaking.
The glamorous palace was lacking most staff due to the Revered’s actions, so for the time being, the six of us had it mostly to ourselves, warriors searching for work trickling in slowly.
For two weeks, we rose every morning, trained in the large arena on the palace grounds, and spent the afternoons wandering Damenal.
We explored the city atop the peaks, seeing which shops had survived the war and which had closed, purchasing whatever we could from gracious owners.
Each haggard face was another promise that I would restore what we’d lost.
In the evening, we’d settle around the long table in the dining room, draining bottles of wine over rich food.
At first, Jezebel had prepared our meals.
We’d offered to help, and often kept her company while she cooked, but it normally resulted in her yelling at Tolek for touching something he was not supposed to.
For their sake, we’d hired kitchen staff quickly.
And after dinner, when the world was quiet and holding its breath, I’d stand on my balcony and look out over the city that was coming back to life. At the world that buried secrets tangled in threads of lies. At the mountains that remembered the heartbreak I was still enduring, and just breathed.
It was peaceful, but it would not last. This was the calm before the storm that I was beginning to fear would break over my head and drown me. The Chancellors of the minor clans would arrive for the Rapture within the week, and we’d begin restoring what Lucidius ruined.
I assumed no one would arrive from the Engrossians. That was another battle we would have to face in the coming weeks. For now, I let the solitude of the Mystique Mountains soak into my skin, rejuvenating my spirit.
I stood on a platform in Jezebel’s dressing room as the seamstress we had summoned fluttered about me, measuring and pinning and cutting. She wasn’t just any seamstress. She was Divina Delantin, and she was the esteemed worker of Mystique leathers in Damenal.
On the floor at my feet were the renderings Jezebel and I had recreated of our desired leathers. I remembered the nights we spent as young girls, sketching these awe-inspiring garments by candlelight when we were supposed to be sleeping, and the moment felt surreal.
Divina circled me, pinning scraps of material into place as I swiveled in the light streaming through Jezebel’s tall windows.
Everything in the Mystique Mountains, including the sunlight itself, brought a new realm of beauty to the world.
The seamstress’s expert hands folded a stretch of fabric around my hips, achieving the precise vision I had dreamed as a girl.
My skin tingled in anticipation of three days’ time when she would return with my finished product.
I was picturing the feel of the leather against my skin so vividly that I missed Jezebel’s rambling.
“Ophelia? Are you in there?” she asked as she unfolded from her position on the lavender chaise—her favorite in her chambers, even though it was in the dressing room—and approached me. Her eyes met mine in the mirror.
I turned as Divina instructed and looked down at my sister. “Sorry, what was that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Daydreaming again?” But her lips quirked up in a smile, and I knew she was relieved with the shift in my mood over the past few days.
Even more relieved when she had learned that the Curse we had feared was taking my life was in fact a farce, brought about by the Angels.
She had burned the note I gave her before the Undertaking—dropped it into the mouth of the Spirit Volcano when I told her what Damien had admitted.
We’d watched it turn to ash while questions lingered between us.
Jezebel toyed with her necklace’s pendant where it fell to her chest. “I said Father will be here in a few days.”
My stomach sank. “He will.” And he would be sequestered with the other Mystique Council members until they could be questioned about aligning with Lucidius. We fell into a contemplative silence, neither voicing the possibility of what that would mean.
“How did you feel after it? The Undertaking?” Jezebel asked, reaching up to fiddle with the ends of my hair.
I considered, unsure where she was heading. “I felt…whole. Like a piece of me had been fulfilled. And I felt powerful.”
She pursed her lips but was silent.
“How did you feel?” I asked, turning back to face the mirror and running a hand through the fringed fabric along my thighs.
She bit her lip for a moment before speaking, and tension radiated from her.
“I was underwhelmed,” she admitted. Jezebel’s tawny eyes met my magenta, our faces so similar, but our insides so different.
“I thought I would feel as you did, but I did not.” She paused, and I allowed her the time to gather her thoughts.
The only sound in the room was Divina’s stitching.
“Something within me shifted, and I believe that was the moment you are describing. Like a spring that had coiled in my gut all my life finally sprung free, but it was not fulfilling as you said. Like perhaps this piece of me that I gained was not the piece I sought.”
“You are a full warrior now, Jezzie.” I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her face up to mine.
For a moment, she looked so young—so uncertain.
A girl with questions on her heart and dreams in her mind.
“You have fulfilled that piece of yourself. Now, we can find the other pieces you feel are missing.”
She smiled softly and leaned her cheek against my hand, soft hair falling across my arm. “I think they may be far off, yet.”
“How far may that be?” My heart jumped, afraid of what she would say next.
Our eyes locked. “I am unsure, sister, but perhaps very far indeed.”
“Are you ready?” Malakai’s head peered around the door of our dressing chamber, his freshly trimmed black hair falling around his face.
It still curled in messy tendrils, but the few inches we sheared off after our ordeal seemed to take some of the memories with them.
Jezebel had enjoyed cutting it so much that she’d insisted on Cyph letting her do his, as well.
Tolek had threatened to draw his dagger if she came anywhere near his precious hair.
Malakai’s eyes lit up when they landed on me—almost like they used to. The subtle shift inflated my heart. “Ophelia…” he whispered with awe in his voice, coming to stand beside me in front of the mirror. The tension between us took a reprieve.
He ran a hand across my collarbone, over the leather strap around my shoulder, and down my arm, taking in the beauty Divina had crafted.
A chill followed in the wake of his fingers, my skin reacting to his touch like lightning shooting through my veins.
His path lingered on the tattoo on my arm, then the scars below, drawing delicate circles over the permanent marks with his thumb as if he could brush them away.
His gaze traced the warm brown leather framing my chest in a heart-shaped neckline, parting low between my breasts, with a panel extending down over the greater part of my rib cage.
My stomach was bare to expose the three long, white scars that wrapped themselves around my waist. A proud reminder of what I suffered for our people.
The skirt began below the scars, a thick leather belt holding Starfire. “Stars?” Malakai asked, tracing the design imprinted in the belt. Four tiny ones building to a final larger one with four main points and smaller beams between them. My own personal constellation.
“The North Star.” I smiled up at him as his fingers brushed over the biggest star, nestled beside Starfire. “A last addition I asked Divina to include.”
His bewildered smile nearly took my breath away as he eyed the skirt beneath the belt, strips of leather forming a fan around my thighs. As I moved, they spun out around me, lifting slightly. Perfect for the range of motion I would need.
The whole outfit was designed with purpose—to show off the sacrifices that proved my worth and also allow the freedom I required.
Divina had suggested adding golden wristbands, but I denied them, wanting all of my scars on display.
When Rina saw the leathers, she’d asked if I should require more coverage, to protect myself.
“I do not plan on needing protection,” I’d responded simply. Besides, should a true battle loom, I could don full leather garb and gilded armor.
I finished lacing up the knee-high boots Divina made to complete the outfit, and strapped Angelborn across my back before turning in a circle for Malakai, my hair flowing out behind me. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I watched my dream take shape.
Malakai’s hands settled on my shoulders, fastening the sky-blue cloak without breaking his gaze from my eyes, our mouths so close I could feel his breath against my lips.
Unable to help myself, I reached up and brushed the unruly hair from his forehead, appreciating the unfathomable softness of it under my fingers.
He is here, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. We survived.
I caught his gaze with my own, a flicker of pain flowing through his green eyes, and my stomach dropped.
Tension coated the air between us, a stark reminder of what he had suffered—what we had suffered, I had to keep reminding myself—and the broken pieces resting inside of us.
Shards of glass poised to issue fatal punctures with one misstep.
I shrugged out of his grasp, needing a breath of my own air. In the same moment, Malakai banished that echo of hurt from his eyes. We did what we’d become so adept at: ignoring our pain.
The anger between us had not vanished, but it gave way to this moment. Instead, we watched the fabric trailing behind me catch the light, shimmering like the crystal surface of the sea, and emphasizing the blue threading within my leathers. The color of our people. A sign of hope for us both.
“It’s perfect,” he whispered, planting a kiss to my forehead.
He stepped back, and I frowned at his linen shirt and plain pants. He bore no leathers because he had not officially completed the Undertaking, but I chose not to raise the conversation.
As we approached the Rapture chamber doors, Malakai bent to whisper in my ear, “I have to say…while you look every bit the powerful Revered Mystique in those new leathers, I’m more excited to see how they come off later.” His breath was a soft caress down my neck.
I winked at him in response. The shiver his words caused faded as we came to a halt in front of Tolek, dressed finely in his own sleeveless leathers with his hair combed back yet slightly ruffled, like he couldn’t leave it perfect.
“Jezebel and Cypherion have gathered the masses within,” he told us.
Those chocolate eyes swept up and down my body, taking in the freshly crafted leathers and lingering on every inch of the exposed skin around them.
Not in a leering manner, but in astonishment.
Quickly, though, the look vanished from his face. “Shall I tell them you’re ready?”
Malakai watched the shift in his friend’s expression, and the narrowing of his eyes nearly unsteadied me, but I did not have time to address it now.
“Yes,” I responded, and Tolek disappeared through the double doors.
I ran my hand over my leathers once more, ensuring that everything was in place. This was my first impression as acting Revered. This moment—what happened behind those doors—would decide my fate and the fate of my people. If my rule was supported, or if we would fight for allies.
Malakai sensed my hesitation and lifted my fingers from where they scratched at the dark scar the Curse had left me.
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it gently.
“You are the most powerful warrior of our generation, Ophelia. But more than that, you are fierce, kind, and loyal. Your heart burns with the hope of the Mystique Warriors. They will see that and they will honor it.”
I swallowed my fear, shook my hair behind my shoulders, and lifted my chin. Though talk of curses and glory echoed through my mind like a haunting vow, I remained determined. Malakai’s words were true, and I felt the strength within me to prove that.
“Let the trials begin,” I muttered.
With Angelborn across my back, Starfire at my hip, and Malakai’s grip firm within my own, a wealth of unanswered promises burned through my veins. I pushed open the double doors of the Rapture chamber to claim my fate.