I spoke loudly enough to let my voice carry over the arena, playing along. “Exile and Blind Luck are mine now. Your loss, my Prince.”
Belial’s hand tightened around mine. Before Tascius could jump over the arena wall, he leaned in close, almost pulling me into an embrace without caring who saw it. “I wish you every happiness,” he said quietly, completely genuine.
I looked up at him, my eyes prickling. “Never happy without you,” I whispered back.
Before Tascius picked me up and planted a deep, slow, and long-overdue kiss on my lips to the demons’ roars of delight, hope flared in Belial’s eyes.
It was only a small amount of mending, but my heart felt lighter than it’d been in weeks.
12
Azazel
The taste of change was on the air tonight. I felt the glimmer of Belial’s power, the breaking of bonds.
And the taste of an angel’s happiness.
My young Nephilim came striding out of the Brightside arena, cradling Melisande against his chest like a prize. He was limping.
I reached out, examining his inner workings. His leg had been broken in his last fight.
With a sigh, I pulled my shadows back inside myself, revealing my true face to the light again. Melisande looked up, her eyes brightening even more, if that was possible.
“You came!” She patted the Nephilim’s chest with her mysteriously-scarred hand, the one she thought she kept hidden from me.
I’d thought I’d seen true joy on Tascius’s face when I’d first brought him to Belial’s arena and he’d found where he belonged.
His true home was clearly elsewhere now. He was lit up with happiness, making his angelic heritage even more obvious.
“Of course I did.” I reached out and touched her, unable to stop myself, like always.
It was an impossible compulsion to resist. She had no idea how close she’d come to me putting my mark on her permanently, ensuring we were linked forever.
But I needed to be sure she wanted it. Once it was done, I would die before it would be undone… and maybe not even then.
Tascius lowered Melisande to the ground, his face tight despite his happiness.
“Your bones are broken,” I told him. Upon further examination, there was more than one fracture. The bones in his foot had been crushed. It was amazing he was walking at all.
“I’m fine,” Tascius said stubbornly, but Melisande looked up at him with her brow furrowed.
She gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let him go. “You’re not fine if your bones are broken, friend. Azazel, does my healing only work on… on injuries caused by the Dragon, or-?”
“You can heal him.” I ground my teeth with the effort of not snatching her away from him. He was my student for a time, too. He deserved forbearance, even if he’d found a more likely mentor in Belial. “We should go to Blackchapel. I can help you if your magic breaks away from you.”
Melisande nodded fervently, and gestured to the Chainlings, who’d brought Capheira out. A blind fighter stood next to them, almost humming with tension. “Bring Blind Luck back to my arena, please,” she said, slipping a sugar lump to the ghostly horse. “Someone is waiting for him.”
The Chainlings set off, but Blind Luck held back for a moment. “I can’t take back what I’ve done,” he said slowly. “But I can make up for it.”
“As long as you two don’t try to cut my throat in my sleep, I think we’ll get on just fine,” she said with a smile, waving him on. His apologies made, Blind Luck hurried after the Chainlings, desperate to get back to the person who’d bound his heart. The cords of it were invisible, but they shone around him with scarlet light.
Melisande let out a sigh. “I’m glad that’s taken care of. I felt guilty for separating them.”
“Come, let’s get to Blackchapel.” I extended a hand to Tascius, who raised an eyebrow. “You’re not walking.”
“Friend, please,” Melisande said softly, tugging him towards me. “Let me do this for you.”
He looked like he was about to resist, but Melisande’s pleas softened him. I knew that feeling all too well.
Tascius put his hand in mine and allowed me to dissolve him into stardust, making him weightless.
Melisande took his other side, linking her hands with what she could of him and spreading her wings.
Not for the first time, I tried and failed to fathom what the Nephilim must feel like with such a vital part of himself missing. When I’d sacrificed my wings, the pain had driven me to madness, but the gift of the shadows had slowly brought me back.
He’d had no such mercy, but he hadn’t been broken by it.
We rose into the air and flew over the Circles, crossing from Brightside to Nightside in silence. Melisande’s wings beat the air rhythmically, and sometimes she glided along, carried on the wind like she was no more than a feather herself.
Some of the tension emanating from her eased when we passed over Limbo and Blackchapel rose out of the mist.
She shot upwards to the balcony, beating us by only seconds. I released Tascius as soon as we landed, not wanting to bruise his pride any further.
The angel looped her arm around his waist and pulled him inside. I paused, looking up at the roof for a familiar figure. Lucifer Morningstar was perched on the rim of a large, round stained-glass window instead of his usual rooftop haunt, gliding down to meet me in the courtyard.
“I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been putting off this talk for far too long.”
Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest. “Has anyone ever told you ‘we need to talk’ is the worst way to say hello to someone?”
I shot him a look.
The Morningstar wasn’t put off. He knew me too well. “So she has her Nephilim back. Perhaps we can make plans that
