A soft blush rose to the Queen’s cheeks and she lowered her eyelashes back to the fountain. “Few truly understand what it means to be Queen. Even fewer appreciate the sacrifice. My power encases this Manor and all those within it. It is my duty to keep every child healthy and alive until they have parted from this place.”
“Is that why there is never a Windborn above the age of eighteen?”
The Queen hummed in acknowledgment. “My power has its limits. I can hardly keep up with all those who reside here. Especially...” she trailed off and a wave of sadness tugged at Azrael’s heart.
“The hybrids,” Azrael offered.
The Queen looked to Azrael with a small chuckle. “You’re learning.”
It was all falling into place for Azrael now. Why the hybrids went mad. Why they were so feared and misunderstood. The Queen kept such fate from all Aedium. But there was something about a hybrid that hindered her ability.
“Why are hybrids different, Majesty? Is it our demon’s influence?”
The Queen frowned and soft lines crinkled at her eyes. It was the first time Azrael had ever noticed a deviation from perfection from Queen Ceres.
“Partly, yes. When Celestia sends the children down, they are unprotected, unloved. There’s nothing to prevent a demon from feeding on a drifting infant. They suck the Divine Material out like a hummingbird feeding on a flower. I’m not powerful enough to shroud the child in secrecy, like some Queens would do. That is why there is a surplus of female Windborn at Manor Saffron. It’s a testament to my weakness as Queen.”
Azrael’s breath caught in her throat. “Females?”
The Queen nodded. “Yes. Even you, my child, were born as a man. Only after exposure to a demon does the child molt into the female gender. It’s a natural reflex. Only a female can survive the infection of evil. We’re the stronger sex, but we’re not natural. Not when it comes to Windborn.”
Crystal tears glinted in the Queen’s eyes and Azrael steeled herself against the Queen’s sorrow. The waves of pain and guilt that emanated from the Queen were weighty and powerful. Azrael found herself wishing she could access the Light that should have been unlocked within her. The single session had been enough to open Azrael to the Queen’s power, but not enough to give her power of her own, rendering Azrael helpless against the onslaught.
“Majesty, please,” Azrael begged and clenched a fist to her chest. “Control your magic.”
“Apologies,” the Queen whispered. The sadness ebbed as her magic retreated.
Azrael relaxed and bit her lip before deciding to press on. I need answers.
“Majesty, what of the hybrids? I thought that to be a hybrid meant to have encountered a demon? But you say, every female has encountered one. So... What does that make me?”
The Queen wouldn’t match her gaze. Azrael had never before seen the Queen so uncertain of herself as she took a deep breath and flashed her tongue across her lip.
“A hybrid is living proof that Celestia does not keep their promise. They’re supposed to keep demons on their side of the border. Lesser, rogue demons aren’t a surprise. But when a hybrid shows up, we know an archdemon took hold of the child. Even demons have organization and leaders. Mehmet is their King. Archdemons are his generals.”
“An archdemon...” Azrael repeated the words. She hoped saying it aloud would reveal what that truly meant. But it only brought a chill to her heart. “And what of Meretta? She didn’t encounter the same type of demon as myself?”
The Queen nodded. “That’s correct. A lesser demon is easy for a child’s soul to accept. But an archdemon, such power and evil cannot be ignored. A hybrid is the result. Your soul couldn’t fully convert, you couldn’t accept servitude to such a creature. And so you were torn, given an orb to eventually choose the demon’s side when you were old enough to think on a higher level.”
“And why would you allow hybrids to keep their orbs?” Azrael couldn’t hide the accusation in her voice. The only other hybrid child in Manor Saffron had made a deal with her demon, and paid her life as the price.
“Only the soul to whom it is bound may touch the orb. It’s a magical object. Even if I found a way to toss it into the sea, it would return to the child it belonged to.” The Queen sighed and patted the empty spot on the bench. “Stop sitting on the ground like that. Let’s speak as equals, Azrael.”
Azrael, slighted by the conversation, smoothed the folds of her gown before rising and sitting next to her. But to be offered to be treated as equal by the Queen did more than enough to smooth her ruffled feathers. Even though she preferred the grass, Azrael straightened her back proudly as she sat one-on-one with one of the most powerful figures in Terra.
The Queen’s gaze bored into Azrael’s. There was such desperation and urgency that Azrael leaned in and took her hand in her own.
“Hybrids are blotted out of my gaze, don’t you see?” the Queen said as unfurling sorrow hit Azrael’s chest. “I can hardly control the Light in your soul when something dark and sinister shrouds it like a fog. My power is strained. I have to choose between the rest of my domain, or the hybrids. When you first came to me, I steadied you with all of my strength. But the other hybrids who came after? I had nothing left. You’re like a dark spot in my vision, an eclipse that won’t end. It’s my fault they died, not yours.”
Azrael’s throat constricted as the memory of the dead hybrid child resurfaced in her mind. “But if you used your strength to save me, then it is my fault,” Azrael whispered.
Azrael was surprised at the surge of anger that jolted through the Queen’s grasp. Azrael shrank back and the Queen released her.
“No, Azrael. Never blame yourself for things you cannot control. Do you understand me?”
Azrael looked down at the ground and shivered. “Yes, Majesty.”
Yet, feeling the Queen’s anger had sparked her own. Maybe we can’t control the demons above...but what of the demons below? What of those who purchase the Windborn as if they are trinkets to collect? Why do we just sit back and let this happen? Why do we do nothing about it?
“And the Windborn who pass the age of eighteen, Majesty?” Azrael found herself asking.
The Queen breathed out a sigh. “This is a tradition even a Queen cannot undo. Only through tributes from Windborn sales can we sustain the generation that comes next. It’s a vicious cycle, but the alternative is death.”
Azrael took a firm hold of a sliver of bravery as she raised her chin to the Queen. “You say then, that life is more valuable than freedom. If this is the case, I want to meet those you have sold, Majesty. I want to hear from their own lips that this was the right choice.”
In that statement, the Queen’s anger vanished. The Queen let her hands hang limp over her knees. “What?”
“I want to meet those the Manor has sold. I want to see what kind of life they live once they leave this place. If I’m to become Queen, and uphold this twisted duty, then I need to know this is what my charges want.”
Uncertainty clouded her features. But in her eyes Azrael saw a spark of respect. “Very well.”
Azrael hadn’t expected her to accept, at least, not so readily. “Really?”
The Queen laughed. “Don’t act so surprised. You are the Princess. Second to me, your will is law in Manor Saffron. But don’t let it go to your head, you still have to answer to me until your rite is complete,” she said with a pointed index finger.
Azrael smiled. “Understood.”
CHAPTER TEN
Propriety
It was difficult to arrange for the series of interviews of the sold female Windborn. They couldn’t simply say, “We want to know how poorly our female Windborn are treated. Would they prefer death to their current situation?” But Queen Ceres wasn’t born yesterday, and had a few tricks up her sleeve.
The Queen made the announcement as an improvement effort of Manor Saffron’s wares. They would interview female Windborn and understand what training may have been lacking. Male
Windborn were always an easy sale, as they’d never been tainted by a demon’s touch. Females, on the other hand, were more of a challenge. The Queen herself wrote a letter which was transcribed and sent out to every merchant or politician who had made a purchase in the last ten years from Manor Saffron.
Dissatisfied buyers leapt at the chance for their slaves to be “taught some manners.” The Queen handed Azrael a long list of names as they sat in the study with Gabriel who reclined in his Windborn-style chair.
“Here is the first wave of interviewees setup later this afternoon,” the Queen said proudly.
Azrael took the expensive vellum and rubbed the edges with her fingers. She glanced over the list as the scroll unfurled down to her elbows. “That’s quite a lot of names.”
“Do you wish to lower the count? A more personalized interview would be understandable. I could—”
“No,” Azrael quickly countered. “I don’t want to leave anyone out.”
Gabriel shifted in his chair. Even though the back had been filed down to a small, center arch to avoid the span of his wings, it didn’t seem to offer much support as he leaned back and the wood creaked. “I still don’t think this is a good idea,” he said with a frown.
Queen Ceres shot him a shameless glare. “Azrael is taking initiative in her role as Princess. Who are we to deny her request to understand those she will be bound to serve?”
Gabriel crossed his arms and looked away. “I think the truth will overshadow the reality.”
“And what reality is that?”
He snapped his dark blue eyes onto her. “Windborn aren’t always treated as they should be when they leave this place. But whatever treatment they may endure, it doesn’t change the fact that without the Council’s support, they would have died long ago. Who are we to choose for them if they should live as slaves, or die as angels? This whole exercise is a waste of time. Azrael should be focusing on her training, not these other Windborn.”
“Enough.” The firmness and authority in Azrael’s voice startled everyone in the room, herself included. She blushed, realizing she had just snapped at the all-powerful Queen who could order her death, and a creature of legend with wings. Maybe I am letting this all go to my head.
But it was too late. Azrael had taken the first step in staking her claim as future Mistress of Manor Saffron, and Queen of Terra, and with it the power and authority that came with such titles.
The shock on the Queen’s face dissolved and morphed into beaming pride. “Yes, Princess. Let us continue useful conversation. When would you like to meet our first Windborn?”
Azrael smiled as Gabriel swiveled his gaze between them. “Immediately,” she said.
Gabriel sighed and stood, stretching his wings as if they ached. “I won’t be a part of this.”
The Queen narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t be a part of it if you wanted to. They don’t know angels actually exist, and it would be a violation of the Council’s rule if they did. Off with you.”
Her casual dismissal of an angel seemed more like a friendly jest than an order. Gabriel gave her a sidelong smile as he swept out the room.
When he was gone, the Queen clapped her hands. The motion clanked her heavy bracelets against one another. “Well, let’s get you fixed up. You can’t be introduced as the Princess without looking the part. Come.”
Azrael suppressed a groan. She was on a mission to understand the world outside the Manor and figure out a way to make it better. But first, she must go primp her hair and don a king’s ransom in bangles? If Gabriel wanted to hear a good waste of time, this was it.
Azrael didn’t voice any complaints as they stepped into the Queen’s chamber. Before long, this would be hers.
There was only one opening to the outside world in the grand chamber: a large, circular disc in the center of the upraised ceiling. Azrael was entranced by the frosted glass that let the sunlight pour through. Windborn symbols were etched into the surface and the glass bent with wide arcs, making it look like a massive, glittering diamond that hung above their heads.
“Leanne will take care of you,” the Queen said.
Azrael blushed as she stopped gawking up at the ceiling like a crane and regarded the petit servant girl who stood at the Queen’s side. Azrael recognized her by her pink tassels as the same servant who had brought her to these chambers from, what seemed like, so long ago.
Leanne bowed with both hands clasped in front of her dress. When she rose, she offered a shy smile.
“Come,” the Queen said as she opened the door to the private section of the room. “The servants will setup this chamber for audience while you prepare.”
Azrael stepped through and let her eyes adjust to the dim surroundings. It wasn’t particularly large, but what it lacked in space, it made up for in treasures. A vanity desk was flanked by two tall pillars, which she quickly realized were elaborate shelves. Glittering vials and heavy, silver boxes scrunched up together as much as space allowed. A row of candles pushed into grooves lit the room, scattering dancing shadows across the walls.
“It’s so dark. Why isn’t this chamber built with Divine Material?” Azrael asked.
The Queen hummed regretfully. “While I love these chambers, they’re still part of the public domain. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a patron to meet me in here...” she trailed off, and Azrael realized the Queen had given more information than she had intended.
The Queen cleared her throat. “The first girl is already here, and the rest are on their way. I will make arrangements for the audience chamber immediately.” She waved to the servant girl who had made herself invisible against the dim wall lined with angelic tapestries.
“Leanne’s the best. She—”
“What about Meretta?” Azrael interrupted. “She’s always helped me get ready for important events.” At the look of hurt on Leanne’s face, Azrael pinched her lips together before correcting herself. “I just think she should be here too.”
The Queen tapped her fingers across the vanity desk as she considered the layers of powders and brushes. They all stood up in a neat row, like a miniature garden of white trees. “Meretta has been of great help, but she is a Windborn, not your maidservant.” She turned and strapped Azrael in with her magic. The effect constricted the breath from her lungs. “Meretta will have no part in this.”
Her command was absolute. Any disagreement Azrael had with the Queen was suppressed under her magic. For the first time, Azrael realized that the Queen wished her to accept the way things were. Meretta would ensure more questions, not compliance.
The Queen pressed Azrael just enough to see her shoulders curl. Azrael bent over and exaggerated the effect the Queen had on her. While the magic was powerful, Azrael only had completed one session of the Acceptance.
Azrael closed her eyes and evened her breaths. The cold pit in her soul frightened her, but the Queen couldn’t touch her here.
Leanne’s delicate touch on her shoulder startled Azrael from her trance. Leanne’s brows were knotted in concern.
“I’m fine,” Azrael said.
The Queen turned and the beads of her dress beat together like a wooden wind chime. “Guests are waiting for you in the audience chamber once Leanne has made you presentable. Remember, you represent Manor Saffron now.”
Azrael murmured with understanding.
The Queen gave a curt nod before departing. When she turned, Azrael spotted the illuminated blue and orange spirals sparking across her tattooed back. It’d cost the Queen to subdue Azrael.
But the Queen hadn’t subdued Azrael, not completely. Azrael’s senses returned and she shook off the oppression that wafted over her like a fog.
Azrael frowned at the closed door. Why press me like that? Why not let me make my own decisions?
Leanne wasted no time and led Azrael to a red velvet stool. She laid out a set of brushes, thin, silver chains, and glittering jewels. Leanne cast one doubtful look at Azrael before selecting her first instrument, and A
zrael wondered if it was exasperation or dread she saw in the maidservant’s upturned brow.
Leanne took the largest brush first, a wooden stick with coarse bristles that spiked out on the ends. With practiced skill she began to untangle Azrael’s unruly hair. Accustomed to her own servant’s hurried yanks, Azrael cringed as Leanne pulled the brush through the first snarl. But the Queen was right; she was good at what she did and Azrael hardly felt the tug.
Impatience made Azrael bounce her knees as Leanne went through her hair, layer by layer, taking out every tangle and snag. Azrael marveled as she folded her hair like layers of paper, pinning it atop her head so she could work on each section. The maidservant took a crystal vial, shoving her way through the treasure trove without hesitation, and dotted the purple liquid on her palms. She rubbed her hands together before sliding running it through her hair.
The scent was faint, but unmistakably expensive. The mix of lilac, pine, and jasmine clung to her dark strands, glinting across the tiny silver chains that Leanne braided through with ease.
When Leanne turned Azrael to the mirror, she hardly recognized the black-haired beauty that stared back. A slight turn of her head offered a fanciful display of glints and sparkles as the chains caught the light in her hair, which was already primped to a fine sheen.
When Leanne tried to press a brush of powder in Azrael’s face, Azrael coughed and waved her hands. “No, none of that nonsense. They’re waiting on me. Isn’t this enough?”
Leanne frowned and jerked her left fist, no.
Azrael didn’t have the energy to argue with her as Leanne applied the powder, then put her thumb against Azrael’s temple and stretched her eye closed. A cold swipe left a sticky streak across one eyelid, and then the other. Leanne held Azrael’s head still as she blew on Azrael’s face to dry the liquid charcoal.
It was itchy and uncomfortable as Azrael struggled not to furtively blink her eyes. But when she looked at her reflection again, she had to admit it did give a “royal” air.
Fallen to Grace (Celestial Downfall Book 1) Page 8
