Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Traditional nish thatsha betrothal vow:
My fate is no longer mine to command, but ours to weave. Should I ever sever the thread between us, may it strangle every fortune I dared to shape without you.
MALACH
I don’t intend to listen in on Celine and Luca’s conversation. My moral fiber prohibits intentional eavesdropping, but this apartment is small, we’re due a visit to the young angels soon, and I’m simply attuned to her voice.
With my hand pressed to the bathroom door, I listen to her cry. Her tears claw at my soul, exactly as our celestial heritage intended. I’m supposed to rend realms from their orbits when she weeps. Anything to banish her sadness.
How Luca listens calmly, I cannot fathom. Curious, I send a band of magic through the crack beneath the door, whispering under my breath until my skin is crowded with runes.
Judgment: the radiant magic I was gifted with. It can be finicky, but I’ve spent a lifetime honing it. Shifting through layers of bias and intent, known and unknown, I search the heart—not the organ distributing blood to their body, but the motivations that drive them.
Unseen and unfelt, my judgment finds Luca and surges eagerly inside.
There’s anger—bright orange. Hot. Coiled in the corner of his chest, it burns inside him. His basilisk? Around the flame, there’s a massive red orb, something I’ve caught glimpses of in others but never seen in such abundance before . . . devotion.
My hand curls against the smooth wood grain of the door. It’s beautiful.
Luca is utterly and completely devoted to Celine. While there are spots of green around his heart—ambition—and black—bitterness—he’s smothered them to mere pinpricks. Shoving them out of the way so he can offer her what she needs: comfort, compassion, and a safe place to unravel.
I was wrong to judge him in battle. While he is a lethal monster, Luca’s intent shines brightest when he focuses on her. I rub the back of my neck as my mouth goes dry. Have I judged others unfairly before?
Retrieving my magic, I drop my hand from the door. What am I doing? They deserve privacy. I turn to leave, but Celine’s next words stop me hard, as if I attempted an unlawful crossing of the echelons only to be rebuffed by the magic guarding the celestial pathways.
She hates the plans she sees in my eyes.
It hurts more than I expected. I-I can’t bear it. Stumbling away from the door, I bump into the bedframe, and wince at the thud. The room seems smaller. The walls are closing in around me. While I judged Luca, they judged me and found me wanting.
Does Celine mean the things she’s saying?
My magic quivers eagerly in the back of my mind. I could send it out again, just for a moment—No! I swore I wouldn’t. I held her hands in mine and vowed never to use my judgment against her. She deserves the chance to show me her truth.
I’m numb all over.
The celestial realm will always be where our story started. It doesn’t have to be where it ends. Not entirely, at least. She used to know my every thought before I did, yet she’s read my intentions entirely wrong.
How can I get her to know me again? Do I even know her?
I glance around the room. Her bed is flawlessly made. Each corner neatly tucked. Green pillows of a variety of shapes prop against the headboard.
I run my hand across the fabric of the one closest to me. The soft texture scrapes against my rough fingers—delicate and subtle: everything I’m not.
Celine could turn these pillows to feathers in seconds, yet she takes the time every day to arrange them on her bed. Order and beauty—these pillows make her feel happy and in control. Dual-purposed, I must show her I can be that way too, that life with me isn’t limited to what her fears tell her.
Unfortunately, that means not breaking through the bathroom door to change her mind right now. Some truths must be proven over time.
Celine is my person, the one I swore to navigate life with, but she’s forgotten how good we are together. I’ll remind her that our connection isn’t a mistake, because without her help . . . I’ll be lost forever.
Pain pierces my temple, the headache threatening to blind me.
It’s a visceral reminder of why I can’t fail.
Celine thinks she severed our vows when she left, but they aren’t broken, only bruised.
Judging her intent rather than her actions, our combined magic knows she left to escape her father, not me.
Until her heart rejects me, they will persist—tattered and worn, tethering us until time itself unspools and the stars forget our names. I will do the same.
“Tell me more about the orphans,” Celine says.
I study her, surprised she’s asking—especially now.
Walking by my side down the street, she shows no sign of her earlier tears besides a slight swelling of the skin around her eyes.
Beyond my initial explanation, Celine hasn’t brought up life at home, except to ask how and when I believe her father might attack.
“They were marked by your father for assessment,” I say. “He ordered they be collected and bound with silence to await his verdict about their place in society.”
Celine grabs my arm, her fingers strong and determined as she pulls me to a halt. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Malach. You wouldn’t have dropped them here if you believed there was another way.”
I stand a little taller, rolling my shoulders back. Her faith in me feels good. Warmer than the bold, garish star that gives life to this planet.
“Some orphans are never given an assignment . . .” I grit my teeth, remembering how horror consumed me when I learned of S’lach’s plans. I was too late for dozens of my people. “His dedication to balance has reached unsettling heights. And with his radiant word—”
“Anyone with enough balls to speak against him or blow the whistle gets silenced. I know how he operates.”
Celine scowls, her face twisted with anger. I flinch. It can’t be easy to hear how her father’s evil has spread. It used to be concentrated on her and her mother.
Gods, this conversation is difficult for a myriad of reasons.
“Why didn’t the kids remember you, though?” Celine asks. “You don’t have magic that would make them forget being abducted, yanked through a gateway, and dropped in Sin City.”
“I was surprised too at first,” I admit. “But S’lach’s stasis held absolutely until we came through the gateway. I left before they woke from it, watching from a distance to make sure they were okay.”
Celine shakes her head, her upper lip curling at the corner. “Leaving me to provide an explanation to panicked angels with no idea where they’d landed. Convenient.”
I look at my feet, the brown leather of my boots dulled by dust. I never meant to give Celine more than she could handle; I only wanted to get them to safety. And I knew she wouldn’t fail them.
“Hey.” She squeezes my arm. “That wasn’t a criticism. You did good to get them out, especially knowing what he would do if he caught you defying his orders.”
Behind layers of muscle and bone, my heart constricts painfully.
Her faith in me feels good, but her praise hurts.
Flapping wings echo off the pavement, and Celine’s fingers drop from my arm to wrap around the hilt of the thin blade strapped to her thigh.
I hold my hand out when I recognize Lyklan, relieved we aren’t under attack and pleased to see her reflexes remain sharp. “Lyklan works for me.”
“Yeah, I figured that—he’s going to cause a scene.”
She glances at the townhouses lining both sides of the street.
From my weeks of surveillance, I know this neighborhood is home to a variety of supernaturals, but I understand her worry.
Celine doesn’t want word getting out that the angel population has “motherfucking skyrocketed” as Luca so eloquently phrased it.
Lyklan lands and dips his chin respectfully, first to Celine and then to me.
It’s the respect she’s owed as a nish thatsha and my betrothed, but his adherence to tradition makes her uncomfortable. Standing stiffly at my side, Celine glances away from Lyklan in favor of scanning the street again. It’s empty; however, my time here is proof that someone is always watching.
“You can be at ease, Lyklan,” I say gently, hoping my tone strikes the proper chord. I want Celine to be comfortable around angels again, but the guardian in front of us has been loyal to my family for many years. I won’t disrespect him.
“Of course.” He smiles at Celine and tucks in his wings. “The indicators you asked me to set up near the gateway are functional. As you suspected, multiple celestial signatures have been detected breaching the plane between our realm and this one.”
“He’s coming for me,” Celine whispers calmly, fingering the hilt of her blade once more. If I hadn’t heard her crying in the shower hours ago, I would have no idea she feels even a shred of disquiet.
Lyklan meets her gaze, his own serious, and nods grimly. “All evidence points to S’lach.”