Chapter Fifty-Nine #2
“Protect the queen,” Edevane cried out, though none of the knights seemed to know who they were protecting the queen from.
It was the angels who were poised to strike, but who were the Rhovarians if not servants of the Divine?
Several of their gazes slid to Varen, who squeezed his eyes shut, voice ragged from disuse.
“Our objective is to our people,” the captain declared. “If Rhovar is to survive, we need that cure.”
Marcel exhaled a shaky breath, but the command had spurred the knights back into motion. They stood with swords at the ready, forming a half circle between the angels and those mid-transformation.
Above, the battle in the air raged on. Xadriel’s blade swept in clean, precise blows that Severin barely managed to weave away from. He met the commander strike for strike, his daggers a blur and every movement fueled by that impossible, all-consuming wrath.
Eventually the commander managed a blow to Severin’s side that had enough force to twist him in the air.
His sword flared silver with the light of Glory, and Xadriel smiled as Severin cried out, convinced of his victory.
That smile soon fell as Severin struck back, his dagger cutting through the commander’s heels.
Aurelie gasped, doubling over. Her hand pressed to her ribs, knuckles white, and Xadriel’s attention whipped toward her.
A second later, realization dawned on him as he recognized why Glory hadn’t worked on the demon.
“Kill the girl!” he shouted. “Everyone, on her!”
Every angel turned at his command.
The shift was immediate, like a flock pivoting mid-flight. Several of the angels surged forward without hesitation, surprised as they were met by the raised blades of the knights. Others froze mid-step, glancing nervously at the humans they’d vowed to protect.
All the while, the weight of Xadriel’s command pressed upon them. Even Yuri felt the urge to obey thrumming in his very bones. The tension in the room was a stretched wire, ready to snap.
Aurelie shrank back, sword clenched in her fist. She was breathing through her teeth, and Yuri could feel how desperately she wanted to join her company. To stand by the knights who guarded her from the very beings they’d dedicated their lives to worshipping.
His stomach hollowed, cold as winter stone.
Their entire purpose had always been to protect the humans, and yet Xadriel’s army turned on them so easily.
“What of the cure?” Azriel called out, wings flared wide as he stepped into the line of knights, masking Aurelie. “Sabriel is the only one who knows how to make it! We need him.”
Severin had lowered himself to the floor, one hand clamped to his side to stanch the bleeding. Black blood seeped through his fingers.
“No demon shall be our salvation.” Xadriel’s eyes remained locked to Severin, the disgust sharp on his tongue.
Severin let out a breath that was almost a laugh, shaped by exhaustion. He wiped a streak of blood from his mouth, eyes meeting Xadriel’s with steady defiance.
But Yuri couldn’t stop looking at the blood draining from him.
All his life, Yuri had believed his duty was to humankind. Now the angels had a chance to undo centuries of suffering and restore countless lives and families.
He’d give up his wings a thousand times if it meant an end to this war. He’d let himself fall, over and over, if it meant he could lay his sword down for good.
So why wouldn’t Xadriel? Was it fear that chained him, or was it pride?
“This is who they are,” Severin hissed, though in that moment Yuri’s knees buckled, for it was no longer a demon staring back at him.
It was his oldest friend, looking at him from across a gulf that could never be crossed.
“When you took my wings, this is who you chose. We could have fixed everything, but these angels are cowards who will never change.”
He bent to sweep up a discarded sword, the blade flashing in the firelight. Then he surged toward Xadriel.
It was the first time Yuri had seen Severin wield a sword. Every strike felt new and yet achingly familiar. Wrath had tempered Severin into something fearsome, a weapon burning bright with vengeance. But beneath all that fury, Yuri could still see the boy he’d once known.
In the pivot of a shoulder before a feint, in the way his weight shifted to the balls of his feet, in the near-invisible twitch of his fingers before an attack—these were habits carved by years of practice, and ones Yuri knew as well as his own breath.
Sabriel was right—all his life, Yuri had chosen the angels. He’d buried every question, every uncomfortable command and pang of doubt. He’d followed orders and kept his head down, letting himself become nothing more than another blade.
I’m beginning to feel like a terrible burden has been placed on us. He thought of Aurelie’s words from the wagon ride. Do you ever wonder if maybe it’s not you who’s wrong? If maybe it’s the world?
He had wondered, but he’d buried those feelings and swallowed them out of fear—fear of the angels, fear of what would happen if he stepped out of line. Fear of losing everything.
But hadn’t that happened?
He’d already lost not only his best friend but himself. Yuri couldn’t do it anymore. He refused to stand by while Aurelie lost her people and Rhovar was destroyed.
And he sure as shit wasn’t going to watch Sabriel die twice.