Chapter 31
“I’m so hungry I could eat a bloodhyena.”
All of Seventh Choir wrinkled their noses at Daelun as we flew toward the food hall.
“A bloodhyena?” I asked, raising a brow. “Gross. Not even if they were the last living thing in the entire Elledelle universe.”
“They’re fat and full of meat. I’m definitely feasting,” Daelun said, angling his body to fly as if sliding through the air on his side.
“Bloodhyenas eat anything,” Omarion said. “You can’t be serious.”
Kazemir leveled a look at Daelun, his face wrinkled. He nodded in agreement with Omarion.
“So what I’m hearing is, none of you have what it takes to survive?” Daelun lifted his chin.
“Yeah, okay.” Ellabeth rolled her eyes. “Anyway, are we not going to address the fact that we just spent our entire high dawn learning about defensive warfare?”
“Ellie’s got a point,” I called over my shoulder. I flew in twirls, spinning myself like a slow torpedo as I weaved through the cathedrals. We flew into the main tower of Temple Efysis and began our flight down the corridors to the food hall.
“Seriously. I came to be an Apprenti and to learn Incense Fusion. Not to go fight in Empràr Zadkias’s war.”
We looked at Amayah. Her quiet words rang true. I hadn’t come here for lessons on war, either.
“I mean, it’s not like we are fighting,” Isandra pointed out.
“Yes we are,” Ellabeth said. “That’s the whole point of forcing our bonds to the Fall…
to them.” She tossed a look at the Fallenspawn who were flying leisurely behind us, pretending not to listen to our conversation.
Their pricked ears told another story. “If they get deployed, so do we. We create their weapons.”
“So we don’t,” Daelun said.
“Good job, genius,” Ellabeth snapped. “We don’t use our Order’s abilities to make weapons, they have nothing to defend with. If they can’t defend the empyrean, invasion is inevitable. If we are invaded, we’re as good as dead. Is that what you want?”
“Okay when you put it like that…” Daelun said wistfully.
I rolled my eyes and kept flying. When we reached the food hall, a delicious aroma collided with my senses. I breathed in deeply, licking my lips.
Stars, I was ready to eat. The hall was packed. Disciples from each Order spilled out across the hall, sitting at long, gilded tables covered in endless platters of food.
I noticed most Orders stayed amongst themselves. The angels didn’t commingle with Disciples from other Orders.
I flew in quietly with Seventh Choir, nestled between Ellabeth and Isandra. That didn’t stop several hundred heads from turning to gawk.
I fought the urge to cut tail and fly away.
Most glared at me, starting with my lavender eyes, before lowering their gaze to my deep and dark purple wings that blended into gold at the tips.
I found too many males ogling, staring at my breasts, then my hips, and the length of my body.
It felt gross and made me want to bathe all over again.
“Ignore them,” Ellabeth said.
I looked at her as she lifted her chin. I wondered if she’d said that for my sake or hers. I looked again and found the males gawking at all four of us. They danced from me, to Ellabeth, then Isandra, before their eyes landed on Amayah, who was subtly trying to remain hidden behind our wings.
Chin up, I flew down the length of an empty table and sat down. Seventh Choir joined me. To our right, the other six Choirs and two Dominions filled out the remaining table except for Fifth Choir who was sitting elsewhere since they’d arrived earlier than us.
I picked up a plate, pulled a cover off one of the platters, and salivated. No amount of hate would ruin my happiness at seeing the gilded platter of honey greased bacon with herbs sprinkled on top. I started filling my plate with bacon, then reached over to tackle the stack of fried plantains.
Suddenly the food hall fell silent as a grave. I looked up, mid-reach with my fork on a plantain, when snarls began breaking out across the hall. I turned and saw the reason for the rising tension.
The Fallenspawn had arrived. All of Xadari Legion flew in brazenly, as if they owned the temple itself.
Chins high, muscled arms exposed through their fighting robes, they floated over to Incense Order’s table.
Each began filing in to the empty tables on our left until only one seat remained. The seat by me.
Blessed lights.
Ellabeth and I locked eyes over the platter of fried plantain as I heard the click, click, click of freshly polished boots. But of course. While everyone else flew in, he had to make a scene.
I turned and watched Quazar strut into the food hall on foot. He strolled leisurely through the tables, looking around, seeming unimpressed at what he found.
He was so tall, so fit, so regal. There was an air of pride to him.
He had the posture of a High King and the face of a Luminari—the Celestials who lived with the Infinite in the heavenly realm of Pasaille, the angelic paradise.
He took his time, as if it bent to his will.
Then he stopped and scanned the food hall as if looking for something.
“Someone,” he teased down our bond.
I snapped my head down, burning holes into my half full plate. I didn’t need to look up to see that heavy gaze had fallen on me. And so did everyone else’s.
My wings felt like they were on fire.
The click, click of his boots began making their way to our table. To my side of it. Until he stopped at the empty cloudchair beside me.
“Hello, Safah Starling.”
I slowly lifted my head, looking up into his eyes as he slipped into the seat with deliberate leisure, a smile stitching wide across his perfect face.
My neck burned hot. Prickles of shadow slipped into my mind and caressed my thoughts. I gasped at the mental touch. Quazar’s eyes widened. Immediately the shadowy touch receded and the veil between our bond was sealed tight. Stars. Had he done that by accident? Because he wasn’t paying attention?
“Wings high, Princeling.”
I gave him a small nod before I began adding some fruit to my plate. Ignoring everyone staring, from the Disciples to the Fallenspawn ogling their Prince oddly, I began tearing into my bacon.
The first bite sent me straight into orbit. I thought I’d died and gone to Pasaille. The gooey honey glaze married with the juices of the thick bacon slice coated my tongue and made me hum. Without realizing it, I did a little shimmy and dance as I ate.
“That good, huh?”
I didn’t answer him. I was going to enjoy my bacon in peace. I tore into another bite. When I reached for my third piece, some kind of spell broke. Everyone else began digging into their plates, too.
“These are the best plantains I’ve had in a long time,” Ellabeth said, her aquamarine eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head with pleasure. “Holy stars! And when you add the pikliz? The spicy pickled cabbage is everything, Sazu. Everything.”
I laughed around my full mouth, also eating my plantain with pikliz.
“I could live off of this,” Daelun said, shoving some fried pork with pikliz sprinkled on top into his mouth. “A rotting shame those Disciples died in the first trial before having some.”
“Daelun!” I cried along with the other females of Seventh Choir.
“No truly,” I said. “What is actually wrong with you? Something isn’t quite functioning upstairs.”
“Piss off.” Daelun waved me off, scarfing down more pork. “I’m not wrong. You’re just too pious to say it.”
“Don’t you think the Infinite wouldn’t be too pleased at us speaking about the dead so lightly? Their spirits haven’t even crossed to the Ellelights yet.”
Quazar snorted at my left. I whipped around, staring at him. He gave me a closed smile since his mouth was full. He wriggled his eyebrows at me, his eyes blazing. I choked on my food, my eyes starting to water.
I didn’t understand him. One moment he looked like he’d set me on fire with his bare hands. The next, he looked like he wanted to be…friends or something. It was strange behavior and I didn’t like it. Papi always said clarity was the best policy.
Daelun patted my back until my coughing fit stopped. I turned to him, nuzzling my nose into his shoulder in thanks. He smiled big, brushing a tendril of hair out of my face, locking it behind my ear. Swallowing my food, I turned to Quazar to ask him something.
Only to find Quazar glaring at Daelun’s hand.
“Have you been deployed to the Seal Gate yet?” I asked him, trying to distract him from severing Daelun’s hand from his body. Quazar glared at the hand a long time, then at Daelun in the face for a moment longer, before turning to me, his expression softening.
“Of course I have. Myself, and every Fallenspawn who has graduated and successfully made it through the Empràr’s Pass.”
I noticed the Talons had their heads down while they ate, but somehow they were still completely tuned into everything he was saying to me.
“The Empràr’s Pass?” I asked.
Quazar leveled a gaze at me.
“You are Amaryss Anathelle’s fifi and you know nothing about the Empràr’s Pass?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not like Manmi told me everything.
What do you think she did? Gave me the secrets of the universe?
No. I was taught enough. What to study. How to fight.
Which books in the Saccrent mattered most. What the Farasees would be looking for.
That type of thing. She also taught me everything I needed to know to survive.
Nothing with that includes this Empràr’s Pass though.
What is it? Some kind of exam or something? And what’s it got to do with Manmi?”
“I, too, would love to know what this has to do with my Tati.”
I nodded as Ellabeth leaned forward, her eyes pools of swirling oceans as she popped a piece of dragonfruit into her mouth.
Quazar kept his eyes on me. He stared, searching my face, as if looking for something he swore he’d find. He narrowed his eyes when he seemingly came up short.
“You really don’t know,” he breathed.
“Don’t know what?”
I blinked as the winged tips of my ears twitched. Quazar blinked those hypnotizing emerald eyes and tilted his head like a confused lord unsure of how to proceed.
“Before Azarath Academy fourthlings graduate, we have to cross through what is called the Empràr’s Pass. An endless stretch of rocky terrain in the far northern plains of the Ouanaviel island. It’s one of several ways to access Barrenrock and reach the Seal Gate. But the Pass is guarded.”
“By?” I asked, raising a brow.
His eyes glittered. The corners of his lips twitched.
“Bats.”
My brows shot to my hairline.
He was lying. He had to be.
“Ouanaviel has bats?”
Those lips quirked up even higher. “So sorry. We have ashbats.”
“Ashbats,” I repeated. “Well, then.”
I started turning away.
“Ashbats are the size of a small cloud, with teeth sharper than that of a viper, membranous, hideous wings, and a ferocious appetite for blood. Hallowed blood to be exact.”
I snorted, going back to my plate. “Guess you can make the crossing just fine then.”
“Pray tell, Starling.” Quazar leaned in close to me, his lips near my ear. I swallowed the knot in my throat. “When your Granmanmi nearly bled me dry. What color blood did you see? Was any trace of it obsidian?”
I stilled.
I’d tried hard since Sanctuary to avoid thinking about Titombwe. About the blood. About his breaking bones and body. Sanctuary had helped me forget. But now the events were at the front of my mind again.
I thought of his blood. So much of it. Every last drop had been gold. I met Quazar’s piercing glare.
“Obsidian or gold, my beautiful Starling?”
Omarion’s head snapped up at the endearment, his nostrils wrinkling. Something dark flashed across his eyes, but he said nothing. I swallowed my nerves, trying to ignore my galloping heartbeats.
“Gold,” I whispered. “Every drop was gold.”
I looked down, fighting the threat of new tears. A visible strand of shadow caressed my chin, lifting it gently so I looked Quazar in the eyes.
“Gold.” The gilded rim of his jade eyes seemed to burn. “Yet you call me Fallenspawn. Is it easier to think of me as Fallen than Hallowed? Does it make wanting to see me bleed again easier?”
“No!” I flinched back, snapping my chin from him. “That’s not…that’s not what I want. I—”
“Mm.” He seemed tickled at my reaction. “Ask me why the Empràr’s Pass is a special kind of Hèls for us? Ask me which Legionnaires cross it and which don’t?”
The food hall had fallen silent, but Quazar had my full attention. Appetite lost, I refused to back down. Back away.
“Okay, Fallen Prince.” I leaned into his space, crossing my arms. “Who flies through the Pass? What happens? How do they kill the ashbats? What’s the survival rate? Who is even responsible for the exam anyway?”
Quazar smiled. The sight pierced through my chest, cutting me open. He showed just the tip of his teeth. Enough to send my mind reeling as I struggled against the intoxicating scent of sandalwood.
“The Empràr’s Pass is typically crossed by around one thousand angels, annually.
Usually, only three hundred survive. Once you cross it, you don’t ever have to again.
You’ve officially proven yourself ready for war.
The ashbats can’t be killed. Trust me.” He grinned.
There was no joy in it. “I’ve tried. Many times. ”
He…what? Was he insinuating he’d gone back?
“Oh that’s right. You asked who flies through.
” He chuckled darkly. “We do. Of course. The Hallowed don’t have to go to through such lengths to prove their loyalty to the empyrean.
As long as they bond to their Dragèth parilielthai from Dragonkind, they can graduate and head to Watcher Hold.
But for us,” he looked back, looking over the Fallenspawn, all glaring at me with their pretty, jewel-like eyes, and the massive print of swirling thorns all over their neck and arms, “well, we have to prove we are Hallowed, even if our blood runs gold like you.”
His eyes blazed as they fell back to me.
“If we refuse to cross the Pass, we die. If we try to run, we die. The majority of us who have gone through, have died. We fly into the Pass. Most of us never return.”
I felt that sickening feeling overwhelm me again. I covered my mouth in horror, letting my eyes fall shut. That was absolute madness. It was sick. Who would come up with that? Who could be so…evil? It couldn’t have been the Profèts idea. Stars!
Was it High Farasee Manazzra Ahabiah?
I opened my eyes to Quazar.
“Who created that…that sham of an exam? That’s just…cruel. It’s…it’s wicked.”
Quazar grinned wide.
My hearts shriveled in my chest.
“Who?” He chuckled. My chest squeezed tight. “What a good question, my Starling. The Farasee responsible for making every one of my angels prove their loyalty to the empyrean by going on a suicide mission through the Empràr’s Pass was none other than your Manmi, Amaryss Anathelle.”