Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Ophelia
As I stood before the doors to the Rapture Chamber the next morning, the weight of millions of lives balanced on my shoulders.
I could have sworn unseen eyes were burrowing into my skin, waiting to see what I’d do next and whether a night of rest and persuasive words had succeeded in convincing the chancellors of my worth.
The walls around me wavered. I wanted to hide, to bury my nose in books in the palace’s great library and search for convincing arguments.
But solitude would only be avoidance. If I knew anything, it was that fate had a way of finding you, despite your greatest efforts. I had to dig up the answers within myself.
Angelborn’s pulse beat through my blood as I looked to Tolek, Cypherion, and Jezebel—my core guard, dressed in official leathers—then to Malakai and Santorina.
The former was allowed attendance in the Rapture because he was a warrior, but couldn’t participate since he hadn’t completed the Undertaking.
I didn’t think he minded; he’d been quiet since I returned late last night and found him asleep atop the covers, the room in disarray and a box I recognized on his bedside table.
I tried not to think about that now, though.
“The Bodymelders operate on logic,” Santorina reminded me, having spent the morning with the healing clan. “Approach from a factual standpoint, and Brigiet should be convinced.”
“Logic, right.” Rationale as opposed to the faith Mystiques operated on. I looked to Cyph, the most practical of us all, and he nodded in encouragement.
“You can do this, Ophelia,” he said simply.
“Good luck.” Santorina hugged me to her, the cotton of her dress soft beneath my shaking hands. As a human, she wasn’t granted permission to join the Rapture. I’d never hated that rule more than now.
“She doesn’t need luck,” Tolek said with one of his charming grins. “She was born for this.”
His support shot through me like a lightning bolt, straightening my spine. He was right.
“I’m ready,” I told them, confidence flowing stronger.
Tolek and Cypherion opened the large double doors, and Jezebel entered first to announce my arrival, Malakai following last.
Chairs scraped against marble as the chancellors stood, the apprentices and advisors they’d brought taking up positions around the room’s three solid walls, between the gilded statues of each Angel.
The fourth wall—my favorite view—was open to the air, looking over the mountains.
The only place in Damenal where you could see the entire city.
Every clan was dressed in their finest today.
From Titus’s swaths of silver silk robes adorning his tall frame, to Meridat’s chiffon wisp of a lilac gown, and Ezalia’s sand-colored leathers, each leader wore what their people deemed honorable garb.
Even Brigiet wore a thick dress and sturdy gloves, and Aird donned a straight-shouldered jacket, a heavy fur cloak draped off one shoulder, despite the warm mountain air.
The symbolism didn’t escape me, but I didn’t let it show. Removing Angelborn from my back and handing her to Cyph, I took my place at the table. Only once I sat did the chancellors do the same.
“I trust you all got some rest since we last spoke,” I began. Both the comment of a gracious host and a challenge. If the chancellors were going to force me to play tedious games, then play I would—and I wouldn’t settle for less than a victory.
Around the table, they nodded.
“We did, thank you,” Titus said, adjusting the shooting star pin holding his robes closed at the sternum. I met his close-set eyes briefly and swore there was a hint of sorrow beneath his straight black brows. A tight-lipped smile hid under the scruff of a long, square jaw.
“There is no use in stalling with small talk.” Aird’s voice sliced through the tension in the room, colder than the snowy terrain the Mindshapers hailed from.
“I suppose you’re correct.” I ground my teeth, refusing to hand over authority. “Would you like to begin with your vote, sir?”
We knew where Aird’s vote would land. It was merely a formality that I requested it.
Still, my fingers curled against my legs when he said, gray eyes narrowed to slits of icy denial, “I reject the appointment of Miss Alabath as the new Revered of the Mystique Warriors. I instead propose the council rules in her stead until an appropriate candidate is found.”
The Mystique Council was composed of five masters of practice, a Second, and a Revered—all of whom the Rapture thought were currently under inspection. It was a calculated slight, this suggestion.
But I chose a stronger argument. “May I remind you we have an empty seat in this room.” I didn’t look at the spot we’d left open despite knowing the Engrossian queen wouldn’t attend the Rapture.
Nestled between Aird and Ezalia, the dark wooden chair cut to look like an Angel’s wings was a futile symbol of the peace we hoped to one day reach.
The real weight of the gesture, though, was how Kakias’s manipulation filled the space, her vile actions taking up residence in the room despite her absence.
“Remember the threat that is posed to every clan, Aird. Should that sway your decision?”
“The Mindshapers have no issue with the Engrossians, Miss Alabath.”
As if on cue, a folded piece of parchment flared into existence in the center of the table. The room fell silent, taking in the black wax stamped with the Engrossian sigil: two axes forming a V with a crown in the center.
Chest tightening, I opened it. One delicately scrawled sentence glared up at me, I do hope my dear Rapture misses me.
She didn’t sign it. Didn’t need to.
This was no excuse for her absence, no explanation for her actions. This was a power play—a reminder that while she may not have deigned to attend the Rapture, she was not to be forgotten.
The energy in the room crackled with heightened tension. I crumpled the paper and tossed it on the table, trying to focus on the challenge before me.
“If you do not stand with us, we will all have an issue with the Engrossians.” I pointed to the note. “She is only beginning.”
“That remains to be seen, Ophelia—”
“It’s Revered, sir.” Tolek’s harsh voice echoed between the pillared wall, carrying out over the mountains. “I advise you respect the name of the leader the Angel has chosen.”
The Mindshaper looked Tol up and down, eyes narrowed, and I hated something within that stare. “Should I now?”
Aird crossed one knee over the other, leaning back. His thick frame filled the wooden chair as he stroked his beard, platinum hair falling in a curtain around his shoulders.
I gave Tolek a grateful look but shook my head for him to back down.
“Thank you for your opinion in the matter of my appointment, Chancellor.” I turned away from Aird, folding my hands atop the table. “Are there any who are in agreement?”
My heartbeat thundered so loudly behind my ribs, I was certain everyone would hear it. At my elbow, the Bind tingled. A hint of encouragement from Malakai that lifted my chin.
“The Soulguiders’ position hasn’t shifted since yesterday.
” Meridat stared at the note from the Engrossian queen, eyes as sharp as the scythes of her people.
When she looked at me, sweeping her long braids over a dark shoulder, the many rings and fine bronze chains across her body caught the sun. “We stand with you, Revered Alabath.”
My chest loosened a fraction.
One vote. Two with my own.
“Thank you.” A blush warmed my chilled skin.
I looked to Brigiet and Ezalia—the Bodymelder and Seawatcher I’d told my father would be our most ambiguous opponents—and silently willed every bit of hope into my gaze. It all rested on the shoulders of these two women, and the Starsearcher beside them.
Brigiet’s eyes flickered around the room, landing on a map of the continent hung at one end.
Her movements were precise as she rose, the fluidity of the Bodymelders marking each step.
She didn’t say anything, running a finger along the painted white flowers bordering the image, then the gold frame surrounding it.
As the Bodymelder considered, Ezalia lifted her pointed chin, breaking her thoughtful trance with Kakias’s note.
Dark brown hair framed her sun-tanned face.
She looked directly into my eyes with a sea-glass stare, voice as crisp as a breeze off the Neptitian Sea.
“I’m not sure if you know this, Ophelia, but my family has always supported the Alabath line.
We’ve led the Seawatchers in a nearly smooth rule dating back to the Angels.
” I held my breath as she scanned the room.
“The Alabaths are the most historically strong, diplomatically fair, and utterly proven bloodline of the Mystique Warriors. That much is not up for debate between us as members of the Rapture.”
“No one has argued against the Alabaths, Ezalia,” Aird scoffed. The glare she cast him could cut glass.
The Mindshaper withered.
“As I was saying.” Ezalia looked back to me. “The Seawatchers cannot offer you much by way of resources. But we can offer you support. You have my vote for appointment.”
She rose, coming around the speckled marble table to shake my hand. The bracelets adorning her wrists chimed against each other, coral and sea-green stones matching the ones embedded in her leathers.
Heat bloomed behind my ribs—a tumble of pride, surprise, and joy. I hadn’t expected Ezalia to be able to commit, not with how thin her ranks were. It wasn’t an alliance that would benefit my people much, but it mattered in this moment. It demonstrated a united front.
That only left Brigiet and Titus. The Bodymelder had been warming to our persuasions since her arrival, and with Santorina worming her way innocently into their hearts—
But her full pink lips turned down, snapping my last stretch of hope.