Chapter 14
Present Aeon
The last person Lila expected to see when she opened her front door was Adrianna, but there the elusive angel stood, shifting on her feet like she expected Lila to shut the door in her face.
“I want to talk to you. Is Castor here?”
“No. He’s off with Beni.”
“Good.” Adrianna swept past her, and Lila had no choice but to kick her out or shut the heavy oak door behind her.
She shut the door.
“What can I do for you?” Lila studied her old classmate, whom she saw infrequently now.
During lessons, Adrianna used to play pranks behind the instructors’ backs.
She’d had a bubbly, dramatic persona back then, but now, she’d gathered her lustrous black hair into a high, tight bun and minimized the makeup on her light brown skin.
Her lazy smirk had hardened to a scowl. The sparkle in her eyes that had once promised mischief now promised retribution of a colder kind.
“Have you decided to patch things up with Eva?” Lila ventured when Adrianna didn’t answer. Her old friend was studying the small, one room house Lila shared with Castor like she hadn’t been there hundreds of times.
There was nothing to see, really. Nothing had changed.
There was the blue cotton velvet chaise where Castor drank wine.
And the oak frame bed where Lila tolerated his awkward humping and loud snoring.
And, lastly, the small wooden desk where she kept her metalworking designs and creations.
Lila sat at this desk and tinkered with her drawings while she waited, again, for Adrianna’s answer.
She was working on a special design request from a fellow carpenter: a set of two gold hair pins with leaf tassels that dangled from clusters of porcelain flowers studded with diamonds and pearls.
When Adrianna spoke, it wasn’t of Eva.
“I have a proposition for you,” she began, “but you cannot speak of it to anyone. Do I have your word?”
Lila raised her eyebrows.
“Does Eva know about this?”
“Eva is irrelevant to this conversation.”
“I remember a time when Eva was relevant to every conversation, whether or not she actually was.” Lila chuckled.
“Do you want to hear this opportunity or not?” Adrianna snapped. Her voice rent the aether like a blade splitting skin. “Unless you’d rather stay in woodworking for your entire existence. I thought you hated it.”
Lila blinked.
“Why would I be leaving?”
Adrianna glanced through the peephole of the door as though she expected someone to be outside listening.
Then she bent over, placed one hand on Lila’s desk, and whispered, “There’s a faction interested in the removal of the Council and the setup of a new government, one with freedom of choice.
You could be anything you want to be, even an architect. ”
Lila stopped sketching; she paused with the tip of her pen poised against the page.
She’d heard murmurings against the Council, of course, but nothing concrete.
Rumors that the Council had more resources than they spread out among the guilds; that they were favoring one guild over another for their own secretive reasons; that the Creator was displeased with the Council’s governance, and that was why no new angels had been created in the past aeon…
This, however, was a serious, and surprising, turn of events. It did not bode well.
A new government? What would that even mean? Everyone knew that the Creator had set up the Council. Did they think He would stand idly by while it was removed?
Not that the common angels had seen Him in a long time.
The ones who were old enough to remember Him walking among them—older than Lila and Adrianna—remembered Him with marked differences.
His voice, His appearance, and His mannerisms were subjects of rampant speculation.
Even those who had conversed with Him had trouble remembering what was said or how it was said.
Before, she’d thought He was still making all the big decisions behind the scenes. She’d thought the Council was merely a conduit. They liked to make it seem so.
But now she knew that even Luc had trouble gaining an audience with Him. And that the Council, not the Creator, was giving Luc orders.
Could it be true—the nastiest of the rumors? Could the Creator have…disappeared?
She suspected that the Council hid many things, but could they be hiding that?
“A new government, you say?” Lila replied, carefully neutral. She didn’t want to talk about Luc or what he’d implied in their meeting. Or admit that she’d met with him when Adrianna knew nothing of their previous relationship.
No one did.
“Yes.”
“Mm.” Lila smiled. “So they’re going to take this cage from me and hand me a larger, shinier one?”
“What cage? Lila, you’d be an asset. You would have quite a high rank.
You’re proficient in your field and several others, and I know you’ve been training with the warriors.
I’ve heard you’re handy with a sword. We need a display of force, to show how serious we are.
To show we have the power to convince the Council to step down and to protect Heaven’s borders once the new government is in place. ”
“And if the Council refuses to step down?”
Adrianna pursed her lips.
“Then we will do whatever is necessary.”
“Meaning?” Lila frowned, but she received no elaboration.
“I know you’ve been hurt by decisions that have been made,” Adrianna doubled down.
“You’re not the only one who feels misplaced.
Or have you not noticed that most of the current students were placed in the warrior guild for some reason the Council won’t clarify? We are trying to right those wrongs.”
“You might be trying. I have no idea who else is involved in this or what their intentions are.”
“Then come to a meeting. See the good that could come out of this. See the world as it might be,” she urged, and there it was—the punch of her words, the rhythm of her voice. How she made the ear soar and soften under the spell of it. Trademarks of the old Adrianna peeking through.
“No, thank you,” Lila answered, unmoved. “But I must ask. Why are you involved in this? Are you that unhappy with Eva and with your work as a painter? I thought you loved both.” There had been a time when Adrianna loved both. Or had appeared to.
Adrianna’s mouth twitched. She seemed to be plotting the best choice of words.
“Well, perhaps I should have led with this, but the other reason you should join our efforts is that we don’t believe in any restrictions based on origin.
In fact, soulmates would no longer be required to stay together if they wish not to.
” Wetting her lips, she continued, delicately, “Haven’t you often wished to leave Castor? ”
Lila stared at Adrianna in shock.
Had she wished to leave Eva? If so, that was news to Lila. She’d always felt like an outsider looking in on Adrianna and Eva’s perfect relationship. Even if she was in the same situation, she couldn’t understand them. She couldn’t imagine possessing their happiness at being tied together forever.
And yet…she’d always been closer to Eva, who benefited the most from that arrangement, so maybe her perception was skewed.
She had to admit that she and Adrianna had more in common than she and Eva.
Adrianna bore the same designation as Lila: she’d been created for Eva and was the second half of her pair.
Her existence had never been her own. Perhaps she thought this rebellion would help her establish her own identity.
Lila had thought to rebel once. Now, she knew to survive on subtlety.
Over the past aeon, she’d learned better ways to bargain and communicate with Castor.
They would never be cordial, but at present, they were civil.
They had perfected the art of saying as little as possible to convey what they meant.
They knew enough of the other person’s quirks, expressions, and gestures that they could go without complete sentences for most of their routine interactions.
They even had scheduled exchanges of intimacy, which were much more bearable for Lila than the sudden, inescapable exchanges of her youth.
She performed the brunt of the labor in their workshop, and he allowed her time and permission to pursue her ‘little hobbies.’ Perhaps there was something better out there, but if there was something worse, Lila didn’t want to know.
And what of Castor? Could she leave him alone after all this time? He hadn’t chosen to be tied to her either, even if he relished in it. Sometimes, having shared a home with him for so long, she even believed she had genuine affection for him.
Lila shook her head. The idea Adrianna presented was a seductive one, but she neither believed in it nor did she know if it would truly change her state for the better.
She managed with how things were. Or, at least, she could bear it. She could predict it. She could predict Castor. She could not predict what a new government would do, or any of its proponents.
Instead of answering Adrianna’s question, she replied, “You would leave Eva? After all this time?”
“No! Of course not! I love Eva. I just wish…I wish the decision to be with her hadn’t been made for me. Perhaps there are other sides of myself I would have wished to explore.”
“Other sides?” Lila frowned.
“You wouldn’t understand. You only like one type of angel.”
“One type?”
“Anatomy-wise.” Adrianna colored. “In bed,” she added, and it was Lila’s turn to blush.
“Oh.” Lila blinked, the thought having never occurred to her before.
Well, except for that one time during lessons…but she’d dismissed it, thinking it impossible based on Adrianna’s origin.
Apparently not.
Huh.
All this time, she’d thought she was the only angel who had trouble with the fate assigned to her. Perhaps that had been self-centered of her.
“Have you told Eva—”
“Told Eva what? That she’s not enough for me? No, I do not wish to hurt her in that way.” Adrianna shifted on her feet, noticeably uncomfortable. “The point is, there are interests I have never been able to pursue because of my attachment. Surely, you feel the same.”
“My feelings on the matter are irrelevant. I’ve lived this way too long already. My existence is what it is.”
“That’s not the Lila I remember from lessons.”
“The Lila you remember from lessons is not here. I am,” Lila replied, in a voice as rough as the wood she toiled over. “And my answer is ‘no.’”
Adrianna reeled back, her lips forming a sour scowl.
“I should have known you would not be compelled. I would have vouched for you, but I should have known. You’re too stubborn for your own good, Lila.
That’s why you will forever chase things that are out of your reach, yet fail to grab them when they’re offered to you on a gold platter.
But if you will not join us, then you will speak of this to no one. ”
“This cage or that cage,” Lila repeated, her tiredness evident in her voice. “What difference is it to me?”
“I’m warning you.”
“I assure you, Adrianna, I have far more loyalty to my friends than I do to the Council, but you would be wise to heed my words. Make up with Eva. Talk to her. Leave this alone, and don’t trust in anything other than your own two hands.”
“Promise to say nothing. I need to hear it.” Adrianna’s voice pulled taut as a bowstring. Lila heard the reverberation of it in the stale aether—a menacing chord, fraught with mistrust.
“I swear,” she answered calmly.
Perhaps her tone convinced Adrianna of her seriousness; perhaps she’d never intended to harm Lila. Whatever the reason, she gave her a terse, respectful nod.
“All right. I hope you know what you’re doing, Lila. What you’ve just given up.”
“Oh, I know.” Lila lowered her voice.
Adrianna studied her a moment longer, then wrenched open the door and let herself out.
When she was gone, Lila let out a breath of either relief or regret. It all felt the same now.
She tried to return to her sketch, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Should she say something to someone about this plot?
But she knew nothing, really. The only angel she could point to was Adrianna, and she would never betray her trust.
She certainly didn’t care about protecting the Council. Aside from Luc, not that he would ever need her protection.
This wouldn’t end well; she felt that in her bones.
But perhaps a change in government was inevitable.
The Council was an old institution, worn by the aeons, and it had not always handed down decisions that the masses of angels favored.
Adrianna was probably right—and this worried her—that there were other individuals like her who had been snubbed by the Council’s decisions regarding the state of their existence.
And they, unlike her, would leap at the chance to change their current conditions.
Like she, once, might have leapt.
From the depths of her desk, Lila procured her oldest document, which stayed hidden beneath stacks of metal hair pin designs: her application to the architect program, a proposal for a garden that would have stretched out from the Great Hall down the entire length of Heaven to the South Edge.
It would have swept over the current bare marble paths and lone, singular courtyards.
Instead, the walk from the Great Hall, down to the angels’ cluster of homes, down to the courtyard where all the artisan districts converged, and further still, would have been dotted with thousands of flowers and shrubs in whimsical patterns, sculptures of stone and stained glass, paths for walking, wooden bridges and water features, and wide fields of bountiful green grass.
Lila’s garden would have seamlessly blended…