11. Nahomie
Nahomie
I kept silent as King Tassarion continued flying with me firmly in his clutches.
He shifted my weight, no longer holding my body like a sack of feathers, instead carrying me in his arms with an unusual gentleness that was unnerving.
I noticed the king kept the entire manor in ever-present gloom.
Almost all the drapes were closed. Most of the windows trapped the sunlight from the outdoors, keeping the light from pouring in.
The walls were made of onyx stone, which only made the manor darker.
More ominous. As if the king lived in the shadows, avoiding what could be exposed by the light.
So far, I hadn’t seen a single maiden or attendant.
There were no other angels, aside from Khaziah.
It seemed mainly to be just us and the Nanmiess.
I monitored his souls, nervous whatever trick Tassarion had pulled would wear off, and the diaphanous creatures would be set on edge again.
I observed most of these Nanmiess were full grown like Saundeiah.
They were haunting with their obsidian, ghostly bodies and luminous eyes.
But I could see which ones were male and which were female by the style of their spectral hair, features, curves, and ephemeral clothing.
I thought about what the king said. If I wanted to leave, he and I would have to strike a bargain. I wasn’t so sure I liked the sound of that. And even if I left, where would I go?
I wasn’t dumb enough to believe the Ivory Rain and Dyabèssa wouldn’t comb through Edenael to find me again.
Worse, they would probably hurt my family, or even our villagers, to make them confess anything they knew about my whereabouts.
Besides, the Farasees had ordered Nahomie Manor to be burned.
I couldn’t go home, and I couldn’t return to Okapi Village.
Stars. I couldn’t return to Edenael at all.
Which left Mortevain Island.
Would Tassarion let me live here as one of his angels? Would my presence on this island only draw the wrath of the Empyrean to it? Was there anywhere in all of Sorellien where I would actually be safe?
A gentle rub down my back soothed me until my mind slowed and my thoughts were no longer frantic.
I could feel the tension leaving my body.
I exhaled, leaning into Tassarion. The King of Mortevain sensed my distress and rubbed my back until I calmed down.
I didn’t know how to feel about the gesture.
In one moment, he was teasing and taunting.
The next, he was beastly and intimidating. And now he was gentle and observant.
“There’s no need to fear the Rain when protected by their Bane.”
The Everthorn King’s whisper chilled my spine while consoling me.
For a moment, I felt bad for attacking him in a blind rage earlier.
Although he could’ve done without shackling me to a chamber without my say.
He tucked me close, angling his body to fly horizontally across a long hall.
It was like being flown through a maze. He took me down hall after hall until he finally came to a rest.
Tassarion stopped his flight, and to my surprise, lowered to his feet. His six wing pairs hung to the carpeted floor while he took a deep, steadying breath, resting from the long flight.
I tried to move, but he didn’t immediately let me go.
And for some strange, foolish reason, I didn’t protest.
Tassarion eventually put me down, giving me a chance to take in our surroundings.
We stood in a cavernous space. The candelabra hanging from the stone above glowed, casting a wide range of warm light throughout the expanse.
I looked around. Each entry point to this place was by boat and oar or by flight.
Everywhere was covered in water. Where we stood was a stony platform just above, rooted in boulders, above the moat.
I wouldn’t even begin to know how to get out of here on my own, even if I tried.
“What in the inglorious stars...”
I spun around, languidly taking in the full measure of where Tassarion had brought me. It wasn’t a chamber. It wasn’t a loft. The space was shaped like a cave with walls of obsidian stone, but ostentatiously decorated like the bedchamber of a High King.
“Your Highness, what is this place? Where am I?”
I couldn’t stop turning my head from left to right as I tried to take it all in.
It was dark but cozy. There was a chill in the air, yet I was still warm.
The Nanmiess flittered about freely as a resonant hum slithered through the open air, filling the cavern with its muted song. It felt as if I were in another world.
I spun again and found the king casually leaning against a pillar of stone, carved like the Orèthe—the first angelic settlers of the Sorellien Islands.
The pillar supported an arched alcove with built-in shelves embedded in the walls.
Every shelf was covered with scrollbooks, feathered quills, an assortment of plant life, and candles.
The king’s hands were in his pockets again, one foot crossed over the other, as he watched me get lost in the wonder, the absolute magic, of this place.
“This is my home, Phantimèssa.”
I blinked at him, perturbed.
“What are you on about? This entire manor is your home?—”
“No,” he cut me off coolly. He ruffled his wings, leaning on them as if they were a cloudchair.
“The Manor is familial. Any Everthorn can lay claim to it for themselves. Everthorn Manor as a whole belongs to our family. This lair belongs to me.” He tilted his head, eyes watching me with an unreadable expression.
“I steward the manor. I live in my lair.”
I nodded, understanding. It made sense. Most homes in Edenael, whether they were manors, villas, or even palaces, were often multi-generational.
The homes were massive, and everyone in the family had their own wing.
Something else I missed about being home with Manmi and Papi, though I didn’t regret living in Nahomie Manor alone.
At some point, while I was distracted, the king had taken to removing his crown. He looked kingly, yet so youthful, though I was almost certain he was older than me by a couple of centuries.
I couldn’t help feeling that he was also so alone. This enormous manor, and not a single other angel in the place except for a healer. And these souls.
“Do you host any royal gatherings?”
“No.”
“Hold any council meetings here?”
“No.”
I bit my lower lip.
“Throw any village parties?”
Tassarion’s eyes flashed. The corner of his lips twitched, almost curling into a smile.
“Exiled rejects don’t throw parties, Phantimèssa.”
Exiled? Reject?
I tucked that little piece of information away for another time.
“Mm.” I fidgeted on my feet, looking around again. “Sounds dreadfully boring.”
His lips twitched again, his eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.
“Was your life so lively back in Edenael?”
I snorted.
“Not at all.” I lifted a finger, looking back into his eyes. “But! I remember having a grand ole time at a village party... or two.”
His lips curled into a wicked grin then. My hearts fluttered at the sight. I felt sheepish. Exposed. I cleared my throat.
“Was there a particular reason you went through the dramatics of dragging me down here?”
Tassarion raised a brow so high it nearly reached his hairline.
“Dramatics!” The other brow rose. “Coming from the Seraphim who tried to tear my mind apart with blackfire.”
“In my defense, you locked me away like a criminal in that bedchamber for three dawns. It was only appropriate that I rightfully thank you for your actions.”
Tassarion scoffed, shaking his head. His braids tumbled around his shoulders.
I itched to pull one and coil it around my fingers.
I looked to the side and glimpsed what was beyond the velvet curtains.
My jaw hung. Beyond Tassarion’s drapes was a perfect, panoramic view of the Ouanaviel Sea.
Like I did in Nahomie Manor, the king also had immaculate oceanfront views that most angels dreamed of having with their homes.
And here he was closing it all out with these blasted curtains.
I opened my mouth to question the silliness when I found him turned away from me, as he lazily walked to an ornate desk carved from marble.
I stared at his back, a patchwork of stitches and scars.
His body was a mosaic. A work of art. At the center of his spine, his six pairs of feathered, onyx wings hung to the carpeted floor.
His wings flapped gently as he sifted through his desk for something.
Tassarion Everthorn was a leviathan of an angel with a hidden darkness that had to have been born from an evil place.
Still, I drank in every inch of him, from his braided brown hair to the heels of his bare feet as his toes wriggled in the plush rug he stood on.
I pressed my lips together, ogling his muscled body, briefly thinking through what it would feel like to be held by those arms. Pressed down into a bedcloud by them.
I flushed at my thoughts.
And realized Tassarion had stopped moving, his back still towards me.
“It really is rude to stare, Phantimèssa,” he purred.
My nostrils flared. Blackfire ignited in my blood, engulfing me in heat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tassarion chuckled, still facing away from me.
“So you’re stubborn and a terrible liar.”
I flushed even more, twitching where I stood.
“I’m not?—”
Tassarion whirled around, a small stack of scrolls in his hands. He let his wings drag behind him as he lazily sauntered over to me, eyes locked on mine.
“So you weren’t feasting on my body with those mesmerizing, amber eyes of yours.”
His gaze leisurely danced down the length of my body, gliding over every curve and bend. My skin burned as he blazed a trail down my frame, drinking me in. I parted my lips, but could utter no response.
“You weren’t wondering what the Monster King could do to you with ropes of muscle for arms and endless sin for a mouth?”
My breath hitched as fire sang in my blood with liquid heat.
“King Tassarion, what are you doing? What do you want from me?”
The words fell from my lips like a plea. He smiled wide, the beautiful sight reaching from ear to ear.
“What do I want, she asks.”
His eyes flashed with midnight before returning to steel. Fire danced along the planes of my arms. Dangerous.
This was so dangerous.
“I want you, Phantimèssa. And I’ll make you a deal. You will live in Everthorn Manor. Safe, sound, unharmed. You won’t ever be found by the Ivory Rain. And even if they were stupid enough to come here, I will protect you with my life.”
Tassarion breathed me in like that first dawn when he’d trapped me in his arms. He groaned with pleasure, tugging me close with one of his wings around my waist. Something wild danced in the back of his eyes, making my hearts skip several beats.
He was offering me exactly what I wanted... but at what price?
“The catch, Monstaru Roi,” I whispered. “What is it?”
Tassarion grinned like a fiend when I called him Monster King.
“Dearest Phantimèssa, by now you should have gathered that I am a benevolent king.”
He chuckled as darkness permeated the lair. The souls danced and laughed like drunken ghosts. I gripped the skirts of my gown, recognizing I’d been trapped. And it was too late to run.
“I will keep you safe by any means necessary. By blood, bone, and life.” A salacious grin. “And you will become my wingmate. My bride. Phantimèssa, you will become mine.”