Chapter 13
Iglared at the Fallen Prince. Chiseled jawline. Thick black hair. Full lips. Emerald eyes. A gloriously handsome face that could rival the beauty of a newborn star.
The reason Manmi was dead.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He glowered at me.
Suspenseful silence charged the air of the Sanctuary.
The Prince blinked. Leaned down. Took a sniff, wrinkling his nose at me, as if he smelled something foul.
“So you are the fifi I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of hearing so much about.”
His eyes were crystal pools of jade thrashing with a shadowy storm. There was an annoyingly satisfying bass that rumbled through my chest at the baritone of his voice.
I slowly sat down and began tapping my nails on the glass of the desk. I took a deep, long breath, giving him a once over, completely disgusted at his sight. I snorted, unimpressed with the Prince of the Hèls.
“Pale-faced demon,” I seethed, sucking my teeth. “Just like your ash-rotting Papi.” I tilted my head. “You shouldn’t be here, Cursed One. A bottomless grave suits you better.”
Quazar bared his teeth, thrust out his wings, and shoved them beneath my desk, then beneath my chair. After, he proceeded to lift the desk and chair, and flip them over with me in it.
“Safah!” Ellabeth screamed, as gasps broke out among the Ascendants.
As the desk flipped, I fyused. In a blink, my powers erupted, turning me into a starry hurricane. I had two swords of starfire in my hands by the time the desk crashed onto the floor.
I lunged for the Prince with lightning speed. The tip of the starry blade caught him in the wing, slicing across his talon. He snarled, flinching back.
“Quazar!” one of the Fallenspawn yelled.
I swung again. The Prince flexed his hands. Shadows pooled from his palms, as his emerald eyes grew brighter still. He looked feral, like a crazed dog. I threw up a star shield around me as Ellabeth screamed something I couldn’t hear.
I shielded myself too late.
A large shadow encircled me. It was tall, with slender curves, long hair, and seven sets of wings. I stared at it, finding the shadow eerily familiar.
“Wait a second,” I breathed. It took me too long to realize the shadowy silhouette was me.
Blessed lights.
I swung my starry sword and found myself tumbling in growing darkness that spread across the entire Sanctuary.
“What in the fresh Hèls is this?” someone cried.
The shadows grew, flooding the Sanctuary as the Prince snuffed out every inch of light.
Then he grabbed hold of my shadow. One moment I was flying into the air, making to swing for his head.
The next, I was moving involuntarily. My arms bent at awkward angles.
My legs wouldn’t respond. I jerked my body, but I couldn’t move.
I screamed when I felt a bone snap. Then another.
Focus, Safah! I chided myself. Bend, but do not break. Burn, but never bleed.
I breathed through the pain of my broken bones. Then I tumbled into myself—into my spirit—letting anger consume me. Starfire burned wildly throughout my body. I imagined getting a grip on my shadow, pulling it back to me, and taking control of myself.
Then I erupted. I spun around and slammed my wings, talons first, into the Prince’s chest. Like windmills, I whipped my wings in rapid succession, beating him again and again.
While he pulled back to deflect, I jerked, spiraled, and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying across the amphitheater. Without taking a breath, I lunged after him. When I reached him, I punched him in the face. His head snapped back with a satisfying crack.
Manmi was dead because of him. Rage boiled my blood.
Before he could recover, I swung again. This time, he was ready.
A blast of shadows collided into my chest, sending me flying back into the desk.
As I rolled, he grabbed hold of my ankle with a strand of shadow and yanked.
Hard. I screamed as I was jerked into the air.
The Prince grabbed my arm, jerked me around, pinned both arms behind my back between my wings, and slammed me down onto the glass. Face first.
I snapped my head back, head-butting him in his face. I heard the crack at his forehead. Felt the drip of his hot blood onto my neck, but he wouldn’t let go. I let my starfire heat my body, turning me into an open flame as I thrashed in his grip.
Shadows began pouring into my ears. My eyes. Darkness filled every crevice. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of black without any surface or pit.
“Get off,” I screamed.
“No,” Quazar seethed, his voice—deep, rich, and a little crazed—breathing closer to my ear than I liked. “There’s a long list of sins your Matriarchs purchased that you will pay for by the time I’m through with you.”
Fear. That was unadulterated fear snaking through my chest and growing by the second. He was too big. Too strong. I struggled against him but the Fallen Prince had me beat. And he knew it.
“Enough!”
Quazar and I were ripped apart by fiery tendrils, before we were slapped down into the desk that had been put back in its place. I was forced to fyuse back to my Seraphim skin. Before blood could trickle down my temple, I drew on starfire, stitching myself together.
I didn’t look at the creature beside me. I wouldn’t focus on how he was the spawn of the Hèls but had the face of a god. Or how he fought like a tyrant at war and yet I could tell he was holding back. Being gentle even. Which made no sense.
I didn’t want to think about how he smelled like mint and sandalwood, and a hint of ash. I wouldn’t give him any time by acknowledging his existence. This temple would crumble into nothing before I stooped so low.
“Now that you all have your temple-mates, your Ascension can truly begin.”
The tension in the room was our oxygen. There wasn’t an angel—outside of the Farasee Order—who didn’t look like they were ready to rip heads and shred feathers.
I glanced at Scroll Order to see who Tharic got paired with. When I found him, I smirked. At least Tharic Zamarien had been given what he deserved. He was temple-mated to some female from Hartari Order who looked like she was a breath away from ripping out his eyes and feeding them to her dragon.
“Before we began our Ascent,” I whispered, leaning over to Ellabeth who was glaring past me at the Fallen Prince. “What was it you said? That this would be some special kind of Hèls?”
A snort rang out behind me. “This is a special kind of Hèls alright,” Daelun seethed. “The worst kind.”
“I just knew I should have stayed home,” Amayah hissed from somewhere to our right. Isandra was bouncing her leg with an energy that matched the fury coloring her face. Stars. How were we supposed to actually get through the season like this?
Against our will, every Ascendant in this Sanctuary had been temple-mated to a Legionnaire from Azarath Academy. And every last one of us hated it.
I fumed, bouncing my leg like Isandra, wanting out of this suffocating cathedral. Next to me, the devil called a prince growled below his breath, equally in a tizzy of rage.
“You each have your scrollmaps,” Farasee Esau announced. “Use them. Find your wingtowers. Get acquainted with your new home…and your new blended Order.”
Snarls and hisses broke out at this. One thing was evident. The holiest place in the empyrean was about to turn us into the most decrepit beings alive. Blood would be shed this dawn. Enough to start a war.
“Dismissed!”
Farasee Esau clapped his wings like thunder. Then he whipped his wings around himself, spun around, and disappeared.