by Cate Corvin
Azazel’s violet eyes flicked my way, and his frown deepened.
Ah, fuck.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his baritone voice stern.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to hold my ground. I’d handled worse than their anger. I wasn’t going to cower now.
“She had a vision of the path ahead. According to her, one is a straight path, and it ends in bloodshed. The other path was a leap of faith, but she said there would be happiness at the end of it.” I forced myself to hold his steadily-darkening gaze. “She told me ‘a sword is only a sword, but a feather is more than a feather’.”
“Did she give you any clarification on that?” Lucifer asked, sitting up slowly.
I didn’t like the way they were looking at me at all.
It was just like what I’d done with Belial; I’d forged my own way ahead without thinking, without taking anyone else into account. I was so used to operating on my own decisions that I hadn’t asked for their permission, treating my choice as a kingdom unto itself.
My stomach churned. I didn’t think I could take it if I managed to turn them all away from me.
“I took it to be a part of that leap of faith.” My voice came out strong, thank god. “A sword is just a sword. Do we need an inverse sword, really, when the Sword of Light is the one destined to kill the Dragon?”
Azazel looked at me uncomprehendingly. “Do we need it? Yes, of course. Our plans revolve around one of us being able to touch the sword at all. The Sword of Light is not an option.”
“But I’ve wielded it,” I said, showing my palm like the scars would back me up.
“No.” His clipped tones were back in place. “You’ve fallen since that time. The risk is too great. Even laying a finger on it could eat you alive with its fire.”
I gritted my teeth, willing myself to just fucking say it instead of hedging.
Vyra was right about me. My pride, my utter confidence that I was always right, was going to be my undoing.
“I believe I could hold the Sword again,” I started to say, but Lucifer’s silver eyes seemed to be boring holes in me, he was staring so hard.
“What did you do, Melisande?”
My heart pounded in my throat, filling my mouth with the taste of copper.
“There won’t be an inverse sword.” I whispered it, my tongue feeling thick. I’d ruined everything with my own ego. “I gave him… something else.”
Lucifer rose swiftly, cursing. “Fuck.” He strode to the window, then whirled around. “All of our plans were banked on that fucking sword, Melisande! Every one of them! It all falls apart without the inverse sword!”
My lungs hung in my chest like a weight, unable to breathe. Everything was numb.
“None of us can touch the Sword of Light,” he said, a breath away from a snarl. “We won’t find another cache of raw ebonite just lying around. It’s all fucked now.”
Without another word, he climbed through the window and took flight, leaving just a few downy feathers spiraling behind him and a tense silence.
My fists balled at my sides, and I focused on just taking another breath, and another.
Even the bond between Azazel and I felt chilly.
The Watcher looked down, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of me, and began to dissolve. “I’ll go to the smith and see if any of this situation can be salvaged.”
I stepped forward, feeling like I was walking on wooden feet. “Azazel, wait-”
He dissolved completely, fading from my grasp when I reached for him. Even his stars winked out quicker, leaving nothing of him behind.
I licked my lips, standing at the window clutching open air, and slowly lowered my hands.
I didn’t deserve them back, because everything I touched, I destroyed through arrogance. Wrath and pride were my faults, chained around my neck, dooming me to always drag down everything I loved.
I turned around to find Tascius silently watching me.
“Do you want to go, too?” I asked, gesturing lifelessly to the door. “If I’m going to fuck everything up, I might as well go all the way.”
He rose from the chair and slowly crossed the room. I lowered my gaze, watching his feet, then his legs come into view, but I couldn’t summon tears despite the ache in my heart.
If I deserved this rejection, then I’d bear it as best I could.
“A sword is a sword, a feather is more than a feather,” Tascius said musingly. “You know I put faith in what the seers say.”
I nodded.
“What did you ask him to make?”
At that, I shook my head. “I can’t tell you yet. Not until I’m sure it’s done properly. Please believe me, it’s not… it’s not for a selfish cause.”
I dared to look up at him, feeling cold as ice inside.
Instead of leaving me, Tascius wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him in a tight hug. I released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding, grabbing onto him like my life depended on it.
“I admire your stubbornness, Melisande, but now that you have us, we need you to be more open.”
I closed my eyes, praising every deity out there that at least one person wasn’t furious with me. “I’m so sorry. I’ve spent years being molded into a soldier expected to make independent decisions on my own. I’m not used to relying on people, or caring what they think, or asking them their opinions. I know I’ve fucked up endlessly, but… I’m still learning. I’ve gone from being alone to being surrounded by people. It’s damn hard to share my mind sometimes.”
“They’ll come around.” Tascius kissed the top of my head. “But you’re going to have to shelve your pride and understand that you don’t work alone anymore, little friend. Sharing and relying on us is not a weakness.”
“Okay. Fine.” I took a deep breath. “From this day out, if I have a plan, I share it. I will just… ask.”
Tascius stroked my shoulders until I no longer felt quite as cold and numb inside. I didn’t deserve his patience and understanding, but nor could I bring myself to pull away from it.
“Thank you, big friend,” I said against his chest, and he squeezed me tighter.
When Lucifer and Azazel failed to reappear hours later, and not even the training arena gave me the outlet I needed for my nervous energy, Tascius finally pulled me away and draped a cloak around my neck, obscuring my wings.
“Let’s go,” he said firmly.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere. Let’s look for Belial. You’re driving Vyra mad with all the pacing, and you’re not going to feel any better doing nothing but beating yourself up.”
I followed him onto the street, ducking my head. “I deserve to feel bad.”
“Wallowing in self-pity won’t help either, friend. Now you know what not to do, so don’t do it again.”
I looked up at him and squared my shoulders. “You’re into tough love, huh?”
Tascius draped an arm around me. “It beats watching you tear yourself up inside. What’s done is done; they’ll forgive you if you make an effort to trust us.”
I looked up and down the streets of the Nightside and blew out a breath. “Okay. The only place I can think of to look for Belial that we haven’t checked is the Consortium, but I have no idea why he’d be holed up there.”
“We’ll look anyways.” Tascius steered me down the street, seeming completely oblivious to the side-eyed looks people gave him.
Perhaps it was because he was so obviously Nephilim- if he’d had wings, there would’ve been no doubt that he was a prince- but demons scattered out of the way anywhere he passed, some openly staring.
I started to understand what he meant by wanting to be caged in an arena. Not only did he stand out like a sore thumb, but with his relentless, mindless Nephilim rage, he could do serious damage unless another prince stepped in to stop him. Even Lucifer was barely an equal match.
Thinking about Lucifer made my heart freeze over with regret, so I deliberately thought of Beli
al instead.
Looking for him in the Consortium was an absolutely last-ditch effort. I knew he wasn’t there. There’d been no sign of him for days now, but just walking with a purpose in mind instead of pacing my room made me feel calmer.
If they’d give me a chance, I would show them that I wasn’t always prideful. I’d chosen them; they deserved my trust, and once again I’d proven that I was worse at keeping an agreement than demons were.
Shame filled me, and I didn’t feel any better when the massive tower of the Consortium came into view.
I caught the eye of the black-suited butler, who was already preparing to greet me, apparently having been given my description by the look of familiarity in his eye. At that exact moment, something ran directly into the back of my head, almost sending me flying into the butler.
Tascius snarled and snatched something out of the air while holding me upright. Rubbing the back of my head, which felt a little like someone had thrown a rock at me, I turned and saw what was in his hand.
A tiny imp kicked and hissed, spitting at him. It waved a sealed envelope above its head, and for a moment my heart contracted. I was so used to receiving notes from Belial…
But the paper was old and dingy, and blackened with scorch marks.
I gasped in excitement and plucked the letter out of its puny hands. “Are you from the smith?”
The imp just screeched in an unintelligible language- probably insults about my brain and my mother- and Tascius narrowed his eyes at it.
The little creature fell silent at the look on his face and reached out to grudgingly pat the back of my head where it’d hit me, nodding furiously at my question.
“Good imp,” Tascius growled, and released it. It smoothed its little scales before taking off again in an insane tangle of limbs and wings.
I unfolded the note with shaking hands and read a simple message that had been scrawled in an untidy hand.
They’re ready.
Taking a deep breath, I folded the note and tucked it in a pocket. “We need to go to the smith now,” I said, my voice trembling in excitement and anxiety. If all went well, then maybe they could find it in them to forgive me. For the first time since they’d left, a tiny hope kindled inside me.
If it turned out terrible… then I’d have no one to blame but myself for taking the wrong leap of faith.
Before I dragged Tascius down the street, I whirled to face the butler. “Has Prince Belial been in here?” I demanded.
He shook his head, completely composed despite the little scene we’d managed to make with the imp. “No, Lady Wrath. He has not been seen here in approximately five years, three months, twenty-two days, sixteen hours-”
“Thank you,” I said hastily, and gripped Tascius’s arm. “Come, let’s go, we have to hurry.”
“I’m coming, friend. Whatever the smith made, it’s not going anywhere.” But he picked up his pace, matching my stride easily with his long legs.
“Maybe not, but I might die of happiness if it works. Besides, we need to stop for sugar.”
He raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because we need to catch a unicorn, my friend.”
29
Melisande
We left the snorting unicorn at the foot of the mountains with an extra handful of sugar, which Belial would probably disapprove of. It scraped at the stone with its iron hooves, and Tascius even petted its neck.
I patted its rump and sent it back out into the desert. It would find its own way home; we wouldn’t need him to cross back.
“Melisande, that was my ride,” Tascius said, giving me a bemused look.
I tried to smile at him, practically bouncing in place with excitement. “He’ll come back if he’s needed. Don’t worry about it.”
We started up the trail towards the forge, and I glanced back once to make sure the unicorn was heading back to the Fields of Asphodel.
“I think that animal is growing on me,” he said.
I looked back at him. “It’s a unicorn, it’d better be growing on you. Who doesn’t like unicorns?”
My happiness managed to push my regret aside for now. If the smith had accomplished what I thought he had… then I’d be able to give Tascius his unfulfilled dream.
I did hesitate at the mouth of the tunnel, but Tascius took my hand, squeezing my fingers reassuringly. “Just follow, and don’t let go of me.”
I hated this damn tunnel and the prying eyes, but those eyes could go fuck themselves today. I was jittering in my boots, desperate to see how my commission had turned out.
When the heat of Hekla Fell touched my face, I released a relieved sigh, and almost dragged Tascius to the hut.
Wayland blinked as I yanked aside the curtain, panting from the unmitigated heat of the magma. “That was fast.”
“I’m very excited, as you can see,” I said, wiping sweat off my face. “Did it… it worked, right?”
The smith smiled and rubbed several pairs of hands together as Tascius ducked under the doorway after me.
“Oh, yes, of course it worked. I can work miracles with my hands, woman!” He held up six hands towards the sky for a moment, his head thrown back like he expected a ray of heavenly light to shine down on him. “They are beautiful, if I do say so myself. And I do say, because I made them, therefore they are a masterpiece.”
I glanced around the hut. He’d cleared a lot of the piled-up armor, and there was a massive cauldron of molten gold over an open fire, adding to the heat. Several long, flawlessly-white pinions were scattered across his worktable.
“May we see them?” I asked, my mouth dry from more than thirst.
Wayland coiled around, and I saw another table behind him. A heaped form had been covered with a cloth. He picked up the edges of the cloth and beckoned me closer with a glare. “You won’t see them from over there!”
I had the sense that he very much expected my awe and adoration when he revealed them.
Tascius crowded in next to me, ducking to avoid an axe swinging from the ceiling. “What are we looking at, exactly?”
“Something of great interest to you,” the smith breathed, his ruby eye gleaming, and he pulled the cloth away.
My hand rose to cover my open mouth as I took them in.
They were flawless.
He’d used the ebonite to create a web of metal so fine it was no thicker than a spiderweb, but stronger than steel. Thousands of snowy-white pinions had been melded into it, creating a perfect pair of wings worthy of any archangel.
The ebonite was still visible where the wings would be melded to the scars along his shoulder blades. Wayland lifted one of them, folding and unfolding the ebonite structure, demonstrating how it looked and moved exactly like a real wing.
“You’re speechless,” he said, peering at me. “That’s to be expected. No one could create wings as fine as these unless they were born with my inherent talents.”
Tascius was squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt. I looked up at him, unable to hold back the wide smile spreading across my face. “Do you like them?”
He slowly pulled his eyes from the wings to my face. “You had him make me wings? Little friend-” He cut himself off, and grabbed my face, kissing me so hard he stole my breath away.
“Ick,” Wayland muttered.
“This is what you gave up the sword for?” Tascius asked when he finally let me breathe again.
I cupped his face in my hands, ignoring the smith. “It was worth it. A sword is just a sword, but a feather is more than a feather. He used one of mine to give the ebonite the essence of flight.”
Tascius closed his eyes, his face drained of color.
“And you have to take them,” I said firmly. “The ebonite’s already been forged with magic. There’s no going back now.”
I worried my lip when he didn’t respond. What if he’d be furious too, that I’d made this instead of the sword?
He finally opened his eyes, the midnight tones glittering with
the light of the molten gold. “There is nothing I could do for you that would ever match this.”
Relief shook me to the core. “Now we can fly together.”
“So do you want to stop smooching and put these on or not?” Wayland glared at us. “Do you need a room? There’s one right over there.”
He pointed in the direction of the lake of lava.
“He does want them.” I grinned up at Tascius.
“Then get out of the way and lay the big fellow on this table.” Wayland plucked up the white feathers and deposited them in a basket, and Tascius slowly climbed onto it. The wood creaked beneath his substantial weight but didn’t break.
“This is going to be extraordinarily painful,” the smith said. “The worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life. You will probably pray to every god out there to smite me down and wipe you from the mortal coil before this is over. You will find all torture after this to feel like nothing but gentle tickles. The agony will be blinding, soul-wrenching-”
“Can you just do it before he changes his mind?” I hissed.
Tascius turned his head to face me and pillowed it on his forearm with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t change my mind. No agony could compare to losing them.”
“Mental fortitude,” Wayland said, brushing Tascius’s long hair aside to reveal his scarred back. “Good man.”
I grabbed a dusty stool from a corner and pulled it up the table, sitting next to Tascius’s head and brushing his silky hair comfortingly.
He reached out to tangle his fingers with mine, until the smith uncorked a bottle, soaked a cloth in whatever substance it contained, and ran it over the scars on his back.
Tascius’s entire body tightened as stiff as a board and his hand clamped down on mine, almost grinding my bones together.
Before I could protest, the smith had pulled out a gleaming steel knife that was sharp as a razor.
“Hold him still,” he snapped, but Tascius was locked in place, drawing in a hissing breath as the scars bubbled under the liquid.
