We spilled onto the balmy air of the Nightside, leaving the arena behind. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his chest. Being snuggled against Azazel felt so good after a week alone.
But I couldn’t shake my apprehension. Not after what I saw moments after we swooped out the window, a plant pushing its way through the earth in my garden like an intruder, a blight nestled among the glowing lilies.
A black rose, its petals crawling with insects.
4
Melisande
I could’ve flown myself, but Azazel kept his arms wrapped around me in a death grip.
We shimmered between brightly-lit high rises, the drooping crowns of dark willows, and past other flying demons as he made his way to the edge of the Fields of Asphodel.
Blackchapel loomed before us, a more welcome sight than I ever would’ve believed it would become. The thousand stained glass windows, all in shades of gray, glittered in the half-light like beacons, beckoning us inside.
I released a sigh when Azazel placed me in the stone courtyard. “Where is he?”
We strode through the broad doors of the cathedral. Azazel’s hand was tangled in mine, but he made no move to pull himself free. “He has his own room here. Quickly.”
His jaw was set, nostrils white at the edges.
I gritted my own teeth as I followed him. If I’d just pushed him away when he’d first come to my arena instead of wrapping myself around him, we could’ve been here much sooner.
We passed the corridors I knew, flew through the parlor, and went through a hall lined with windows. Several doors of dark wood lined the walls, but I knew which one was Lucifer’s even before Azazel pointed it out.
It was the one with splashes of fresh blood drying on the floor and smeared on the wall beside it.
“What happened to him, Azazel?”
He pushed the door open, revealing a chamber of pitch darkness. “That’s immaterial right now. We need to see if you can heal him.”
I scowled, but no more answers were forthcoming. Azazel lit a candle, just illuminating the room beyond.
A large bed took up most of the space, draped with black sheets like an altar. The form sprawled across it sent my heart racing into my throat.
I immediately regretted our last sharp words of parting. Whatever had done this to Lucifer had been only moments away from finishing the job.
He was facedown, revealing a shredded back and twisted arms. One of his wings hung at a strange angle that made my stomach twist, its dark rainbow hues obscured by the blood soaked through his feathers.
“How?” I whispered, turning to glare at Azazel.
He just shook his head, his violet eyes as cold as ice.
Despite my concern for Lucifer, a flame of anger sprung to life inside me. He wanted me to submit to my magic, wanted me to train, wanted me to come when he called… but he didn’t trust me enough to tell me what had done this.
I turned my back on him and let my cloak slither to the floor in a puddle as I approached the bed, as cautious as someone approaching a wild animal, climbing up and settling on my knees.
A vivid memory of an injured Tascius rose to the surface. Lucifer looked like he was barely clinging to life, but if there was one thing these princes could claim, it was the ability to be downright deadly even when they were knocking on death’s door.
He laid on his stomach, face turned towards me and drawn tight with pain. Blood crusted the edge of one of his swollen lips, and a purple bruise had risen around his left eye.
“Lucifer.” I reached out and touched an uninjured stretch of skin on his thigh. His muscles twitched under my fingertips, but he didn’t move.
I traced the edge of one of his swirling tattoos, steeling myself for what came next.
If I could still heal, he might trust me more than Azazel did.
If I couldn’t… well, that’d make two graves Azazel would need to dig.
He needed me. Swallowing my trepidation, I pushed my skirts to the side so I could crawl closer, delicately moving one of his wings out of the way.
Lucifer let out a low groan, his fingers reflexively tightening their grip on the sheets.
That’s when I saw where most of the blood came from. Its flow had slowed to a crawl, but the delicate feathers near his shoulders were in disarray. I reached out to smooth one back into place, wanting to make one small thing right before I potentially burned us both alive from the inside out, but jerked my hand back in horror.
His wing was almost completely ripped away, showing wet red flesh and the ivory gleam of bone.
“Oh, God.” I swallowed again, this time to keep myself from throwing up.
How had he even managed to get as far as Blackchapel like this? Losing a body part as essential as wings could shock the system so badly all inherent healing would be slowed to a deathly crawl, even for an archangel.
No wonder he was still bruised and bleeding.
My hands fluttered uselessly in the air, looking for somewhere, anywhere I could touch him without causing him further harm.
A cool breath touched my cheek and Azazel was suddenly behind me, taking my hands and pressing them firmly against Lucifer’s back. My palm slipped against fresh blood and Lucifer drew in a raspy breath of agony, but Azazel pinned my hands there, covering mine with his.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, but Azazel’s lips were set in a firm line.
His presence at my back was a solid shield against the horror of it. I was able to take a breath without shaking at the sight of a prince’s wings almost ripped away. “Teaching you.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, reaching for my magic, letting it spiral through my limbs. The taste of salt
