Chapter 45
After I had let down the flame barriers around me, I was spent, crumpling to the ground to catch my breath.
It was only when I lifted my gaze to the battlefield ahead that the silence made sense.
Everyone was kneeling. The soldiers. Whoever hadn’t been killed.
Even the div. And they were on their knees for Azar, who stood at the center of it all, sword in hand, her eyes wide.
Zain looked on in something like horror, still on the ground, his wings bloodied and mangled, poison in the daggers having rotted his precious wings.
Keyon stood a little way away from Azar and was the only one who wasn’t on the ground, either from kneeling or an injury. He was laughing, shaking his head.
Azar noticed this, and it broke her from the daze of realizing the enormity of what this meant.
“Aren’t you going to kneel before me?” she asked.
He stopped laughing, though a smile still traced his lips. He bent himself at the hip, bowing, half mocking. “My apologies, queen.”
Said queen was now making her way back to Zain and me.
“What now?” I asked.
“I need to go to Castiel; he can heal me,” Zain said. The tightness of his gaze told me that he was still in pain but was holding it in.
“Let’s go,” Azar said, her voice commanding more authority now that she was the new Jinn Queen.
—
The daylight of the Middleworld was too blinding after nine days in the darkness of the Underworld. We stumbled out into the familiar Denver alleyway, and before I even steadied myself, I heard soft retching coming from Azar.
Zain had retracted his wings before coming back here, but I got the sense that doing so was like pushing the pain and infection inward. He needed to be seen to, and quick.
“Let’s go,” I said, and he led the way to his car.
We looked like we were playing dress-up.
Me in the black corseted dress, ripped at the bottom, with mucky bare feet.
Azar in her blood-soaked jinn finery and Zain in combat trousers, boots, and leather armor.
We made our way quickly to his car, and I got into the driver’s seat, Zain next to me and Azar in the back seat.
I might have hesitated more about driving a new car, in a new city, but I had been through hell and back—literally. I didn’t think anything could make me afraid now. My adrenaline was too high for that.
“There’re slippers in the back,” Zain said. Even pained, he still cared about me driving barefoot.
“So Iranian,” Azar muttered, reaching over to retrieve them.
They were plastic and pink.
“My aunt and I go to the lake sometimes to swim,” he explained.
“Yeah, yeah,” Azar said, smiling.
We took Zain to Castiel’s apartment. Castiel regarded us with a dry look but let us in.
While he set to work healing Zain’s wings, he let us shower.
Cleaning myself in a shower, after nine days in baths that never felt like they truly got me clean, was sensational.
My skin felt fresh and alive afterward. For a semi–bachelor pad, Castiel’s bathroom had a surprising assortment of moisturizers and lotions.
I used a moderate amount of all of them. It truly felt like luxury.
Rather than put the wedding dress back on, I dressed in a gray sweat set that had been left for me on the bed in the room adjoining the bathroom. I was drowning in the clothes, but they were soft and didn’t restrict my movements. There was a matching set for Azar, too.
Zain’s moans could be heard through the hall, each one a twist to my gut. Hearing him in pain triggered a fight sensor within me, and I had to force myself to calm down—this was for his own good.
After Azar showered, we made our way back to Castiel and Zain. They were in the living room, Zain sprawled out on the sofa with a sheet underneath him. His wings were set free and already appeared to be in better condition, though they were still stained with his blood.
Castiel’s back was to us, but upon hearing us arrive, he whipped around, his lips in a tight line.
“He’ll be okay,” he said to us, but then he locked eyes with me specifically. “I heard you defeated Zahhak.” His lips quirked. “Who would have thought.”
I forced myself to keep my chin high. “It was nothing,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He barked out a quick laugh. “I bet.” And then, scratching his chin, glancing between Zain, myself, and Azar, he said, “I’ve been speaking to the elders, and they’re willing to make a bargain with you. Or rather, you specifically.” He directed the last part to Azar.
She raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“As Zahhak has been overthrown and you’re now on the throne, working with Keyon and the other khans, we want to propose that you work with them to eradicate the div. In return, the elders will not go after your sister and Zain. They will amend the treaty.”
My heart threatened to burst at the words. I breathed a sigh of relief and expected Zain to do the same, but his gaze was down, away from mine. I frowned, not understanding, until Azar asked carefully, “What’s the catch?”
Castiel sighed, flopping down onto the armchair and dragging his fingers through his hair.
“The elders would never be careless enough to let them be together without taking precautions. If you agree to help them take down the div, then they would strip Zain of his wings. Only then could he and Roxana be together. Only then would there be no possibility that any future child Roxana bore would be…chaos personified.”
My gut was in my throat. I was shaking my head. “No,” I gasped.
Zain looked up at me then, hundreds of years of pain and sorrow in his gaze, in the sorrowful tilt of his lips.
“He has already agreed to it,” Castiel said, though he didn’t seem happy about it. “Before running after you in the Underworld—an act I wouldn’t have consented to, but maybe he just wanted one last hurrah.”
“You what?” I hissed. “No.”
Castiel ignored us and asked Azar, “Well?”
Azar selected her words carefully. “The div killed my mother. And even though they’re the reason we’re alive now…I’ve been ruminating over how our armies could destroy them. So yes. If Zain and Roxy are in agreement, we have a deal.”
“No,” I said again. No one was listening to me.
“Let’s give them some privacy,” Azar said to Zain’s mentor, tapping my shoulder on her way out. Surprisingly, Castiel left the room without argument, so Zain and I were alone.
He struggled into a sitting position on the sofa, brows heavy. “Rox—”
“How can you even think about giving everything up?”
“This can’t go on,” he said, voice rough. “We have to break the cycle, and if that means losing my wings and not being an angel anymore, then fine.”
I crossed the room to him. “But what about your charge?”
“He’ll be reassigned to another angel. I’ll always watch over him but just won’t have powers to help him. But he’ll be well cared for. I’ve thought about this.”
“It’s everything you are. You told me that. This isn’t fair—”
He sighed. “No, it isn’t. And while being an angel has been my entire life’s purpose, loving you has been my soul’s purpose.”
His words loosened something within me, and I sat on the coffee table in front of him. He reached over, cupping my face. The rough callouses of his fingers made my skin sing with knowing and longing.
“This could end with us,” he said softly. “We could actually be together. Know each other. See each other grow old. Do the things we said we wanted to. Travel. You could show me around Hull. Don’t you still want that?”
I hadn’t realized I was crying until he began wiping the tears away from my cheeks with his fingertips.
I nodded faintly. This felt like the ultimate evil, to strip an angel of his wings, but the love in his eyes—and the love I felt for him, so strong it could burn the entire apartment down—made me wonder if this decision wasn’t so black-and-white.
“I love you,” I said for the first time.
Zain crossed the small distance left between us, his lips brushing mine. Fire and light meeting one last time. “And I have always loved you, in the lifetimes before this one and in the next. But especially, and most importantly, in this one.”