Chapter 22
Iwasn’t sure what to start cleaning up first. The blood or the bodies. I remained motionless, looking between the deceased angels and the floor.
“Who started this mess?” Kaelthos asked, eyes scanning the room.
Seventh Choir kept their eyes down and mouths shut. To their credit, Xadari Legion also kept quiet, refusing to answer Farasee Kaelthos. I swallowed and lifted a wing.
“I did, Farasee Kaelthos.” I lifted my chin, meeting his golden eyes. “I take full responsibility.”
His nostrils flared.
“Your irresponsibility led to the deaths of six Disciples.” He looked at me with disgust, hovering above the floor so his robes wouldn’t touch any blood. “You should be ashamed.”
“Yes, Farasee.” I lowered my eyes. “I am responsible for the loss of these six Disciples and three Fallenspawn.”
Quazar looked at me when I acknowledged the Fallenspawn. I didn’t have the energy to make sense of his confusing expression. Like a mix of hatred and…gratitude? I couldn’t be sure.
“Farasee Kaelthos, I have been injured in a way I cannot self-heal. May I please see Raephim Zara—”
“No.”
My gaze snagged on the Farasee. Cruelty filled his eyes.
“Since you caused this, you will help your angel-mates clean up this mess. Then the two of you are coming with me to bring these bodies to the wingyard and to file their spirits.”
I raised a brow. “Who two?”
“You can’t be this dense.” Kaelthos pointed a wing. “You and the Fallen bastard.”
“Quazar Valoyen and his Talon did provoke me…” I started. “But they’re not responsible for this. I struck his Talon, Dakairi, first. Then the Prince. He doesn’t need to be dragged into the wingyard with me. I will go alone.”
“He can and he will,” Kaelthos said, finality in his tone.
“Farasee Kaelthos—”
“You will not argue with me Anathelle, or I’ll have you sent to the Scourgers.”
I flinched.
Quazar’s shadows pooled at his feet, his eyes piercing through the Farasee’s back since Kaelthos wouldn’t address him to his face.
There was no reason for me to be defending Quazar or any of his Fallenspawn. But Papi had raised me with integrity. I’d lost my temper, and my loss of self-control ended in nine lost lives. I’d have to live with the weight of my blind rage.
There were Disciples and Fallenspawn that wouldn’t see another dawn because of my anger. It was a weight I would always carry. Now that the adrenaline of the first trial had passed, and I was wounded and exhausted, something became undeniably clear.
Rage was expensive. It was deadly and came at a price I couldn’t afford.
“Forgive me, Farasee Kaelthos. I didn’t intend to argue.”
Stars, I hated having to be polite with this brute. But he was a Farasee. He was one of the leading heads of the Order. An Order I was striving to be a part of. I had to respect him out of reverence for the office he held.
Waving my hands, I summoned a stack of large towels into my hands. I kicked off my sandals, lowered to the floor—wincing as I got down—and kneeled into the blood. The blood drenched my gown to the knees. It was still warm. Still full of life.
Stars. What had I just done?
Ignoring everyone watching me, I began dabbing at the blood on the floor. The first two towels were instantly drenched with how much blood I’d soaked up. My hair spilled over my shoulders into the blood. I didn’t care. I kept wiping as much as I could, wiping the floor of my shame.
Amayah flew to my side, summoned her own stack of towels, and began wiping up blood beside me.
I took in her warm brown skin, and beach blonde coily hair as it fell, like mine, into the blood on the floor.
She didn’t push her hair out of the way, either.
Then Daelun joined us. Isandra. Kazemir. Omarion.
Quazar had removed his waistcoat, remaining in a fitted black shirt that clung to every shred of muscle he had.
The shirt ended at his biceps, exposing his arms and the inscriptions running all along his arms and down to his hands.
Eyes focused, he began wiping up the blood of the Fallenspawn. The rest of his Talons followed suit.
Every angel kept their wings tucked into their spines. I kept mine open and hanging. Tucking them in was too painful. The Spirit Harvester had done severe damage, and Kaelthos refused to let me get treated. He floated by the doors of the wingtower like an overlord, watching us all.
I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I was moving. I got up, flew over to where the Fallenspawn were soaking up the blood from the floors, and with fresh towels, I began soaking up the blood of the dead Fallenspawn. Every angel in the room froze. Quazar’s eyes widened.
“What in the Hèls are you doing?” he whispered.
“What does it look like, Quazar? You tell me since I know you’re not blind.”
I kissed my teeth, vexed at the stupid question, and went back to soaking up the blood of the Fallenspawn. I wiped until my stack of towels were gone. I summoned a new stack and kept at it. I was growing increasingly tired. My muscles were sore, and all I wanted to do was sleep.
But I caused this. So I would make it right.
The room was so quiet you could hear feathers falling.
Fallenspawn or no. Hatred or no. They were angels, and they’d just died.
In their deaths, they deserved to be honored.
That’s what Papi taught me. All who died needed to be honored and their spirits preserved.
It was the Infinite who had the right to make a final call once an angel had gone, no matter who they were or what they had done while they still lived.
I was raised to hate all Fallen and Fallenspawn. But even Papi taught me, all angelic life, once it came to an end, had to be cared for as we allowed the Infinite to do what He willed with their spirits as they crossed from our realm into the realm of the Ellelights.
I wiped up as much blood as I could, then rose to my feet alongside everyone else. I began walking away, then I spun back, stopping in front of Dakairi.
“Did you hurt her?”
His eyes flashed. He was silent a long moment.
“No, Anathelle. I didn’t.”
That made all this even worse. All of this bloodshed was for nothing. My hearts clenched at the truth of what I’d done.
“I’m…” I frowned, ashamed of myself. Both Seventh Choir and the Talons watched me with curious gazes, but my eyes were on Dakairi. “I’m sorry. I…was…I am wrong. And I acted senselessly. It cost you your friends. A debt I will never be able to repay.”
I looked up into his shining blue eyes. His jawline was taut. I could tell he was grinding his teeth.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Dakairi. You never have to give to me what you fundamentally believe I don’t deserve. But I am giving you my repentance. I was angry with you, with Quazar, but your friends didn’t deserve to die for it.”
I turned away before he could say anything. Ivyana and Quazar both trailed me, their emerald eyes glittering with an expression I couldn’t understand.
Farasee Kaelthos summoned three large baskets made of woven clouds. I dropped the towels in them and wiped my hands on my filthy gown. I looked at the bodies, laid out haphazardly where they’d fallen. Three of the Disciples were very large males. How was I supposed to lift them?
Sighing, I spread my wings. The Disciples of Seventh Choir hissed when they saw my damaged wings.
“Safah, what happened?”
I lifted my eyes. Could I tell them where I’d been sent for my trial? What I’d seen? What I’d survived? I shot a look at Quazar. His face gave away nothing.
“Don’t. They’re not ready for that truth yet, Starling.”
He spoke to me down the bond, his dark shadows brushing against my mind.
“Don’t call me that.”
I couldn’t for the life of me understand why I was taking his advice. I didn’t like him one bit. I didn’t trust him. And I still blamed him for Manmi’s death. But I listened anyway. Something in my gut said I should keep quiet. Especially with Kaelthos listening to every word.
“I…fell. On…rocks. The big ones? Anyway. Got my wings shredded in the process. It hurts a lot, but I’ll be fine. Once I can see Raephim Zara,” I hissed, cutting a glance at Kaelthos. Fire flashed in his eyes, literally blazing as if they’d shoot out of his sockets and burn me to a crisp.
“Let me help you,” Omarion said, flying over to help me start lifting bodies with my wings.
“I said,” Kaelthos cut in, barking. “Anathelle and the dog will bring the bodies themselves to the wingyard.”
“His name is Quazar.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I cleared my throat, ignoring the angels who were now all gawking at me. The Fallen Prince included.
“I suppose he can also be called Prince. Highness.” I lifted my eyes to Kaelthos, whose neck was turning dark shades of red. “Dog is a bit crass for a Farasee so esteemed, I think. Quazar is simplest.”
I shrugged, flicking my sandals over to lace them up. I finished and lifted my head to find Quazar’s gaze burning holes through me with a curious expression. There was a slight curl to his lips. His eyes danced with amusement.
Focus, Safah.
I remembered my family proverb.
Holy. To whatever end.
Even if it meant putting up with Kaelthos. Even if it meant obeying a tyrant. All the females before me did what they had to so they could Ascend. So would I.
I flexed my wings, gently wrapping six wings around the lifeless angels, one of them being Fallenspawn.
How ironic we were all so different, but in death, the Hallowed and the Fallenspawn all felt the same as I held them in my wings.
Their bodies weighed me down. At most I’d only ever carried up to four angels as their bodies were brought to Papi for angelic embalming before their spirits were siphoned for filing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Quazar said down the bond.
I turned to him, just to see he’d put the waistcoat back on, picked up the other bodies with his wings, and had taken two Hallowed from my weight.
I didn’t protest. I already felt so much lighter.
Without a word, Farasee Kaelthos slipped out of the doors.
Quazar and I followed him while everyone else quietly watched us leave.