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AN entourage of petite servants flitted about the Queen like playful sprites weaving trinkets through her bronzed hair. While the servants were gorgeous with their defined cheekbones and long legs, they donned modest gowns to accent the Queen rather than draw attention to themselves. However, even if they’d been naked, nothing could have drawn Azrael’s attention from the Queen. Even the enormous golden-arched mirror did nothing but to magnify the Queen’s presence. Standing entranced in the doorway, Azrael momentarily forgot all her worries and fears as she gazed at the rarity that was the Queen’s Acceptance framed by the V-line dress. The golden tattoo glowed as if it had absorbed the sun’s rays and writhed with life up and down the Queen’s delicate spine. Only the ruler of Manor Saffron could wear such a mark. This was what it meant to survive the initiation of magic necessary to maintain a house of Windborn.
A snap of the Queen’s fingers broke the trance. The servant girls’ giggles abruptly ceased and they swept in unison in what seemed like a practiced dance, bowing with impeccable elegance before exiting the room.
“Come, my child,” Queen Ceres said while puffing the azure silk of her dress about her shoulders.
Keeping a tight grip on her courage, Azrael crossed the threshold from the rest of the Manor into the Queen’s chambers. A supernatural sense of power restricted her throat with fear. She held her breath, lest any signs of her intimidation be given away.
Queen Ceres glided to her side and pinched Azrael’s chin. Out of habit when facing the Queen, Azrael blinked her green eye closed. “Who did this to you?” she asked as she traced a light finger over Azrael’s puffy cheekbone.
Azrael slit her green eye open. Lying required just a little evil. “A mishap during my dance lessons, Majesty.”
The Queen frowned and released her. “Sit with me. There’s much to discuss.” Queen Ceres reclined on one of the room’s fine one-armed sofas and Azrael was grateful the bruise would be overlooked.
“Azrael, what if I told you that you didn’t have to marry Sir Percival?” the Queen asked.
Azrael’s eyes widened as she lowered herself to the velvet seat. “Am I being banished?”
The Queen smothered a laugh in her hand before arching her brow in a sympathetic gesture. “No, sweet child. Quite the opposite.” She leaned and grazed her fingers across Azrael’s arm, sending warmth and comfort through her veins. “You have been chosen to undergo the Acceptance, and should you pass the trial, become Queen.”
The Queen’s words were so heavy they fell straight into Azrael’s heart and bolted deep in her chest. “You wish me...” Azrael drew a hand to herself, “to become your successor?”
The Queen’s smile grew. “Not only I, the Divine themselves wish it for you. And a hybrid as Queen? Imagine it.”
A multitude of possibilities unfurled in Azrael’s mind like hatched seeds sprung to life.
This is my opportunity? Azrael swallowed. It was better than anything she could have imagined. I could certainly impose changes to how hybrids are treated should I become Queen.
“Now, becoming Queen isn’t all luxury and romance,” the Queen said, cutting into her optimistic thoughts. “There are responsibilities, duties, and, of course, the Acceptance Trial to endure.”
Azrael numbly nodded, her eyes drawn to the Queen’s hidden tattoo.
“Do you understand what you are, sweet child?” The Queen leaned in once more and her lilac perfume drifted in the air between them. Azrael leaned in as well, lured by the conspiratorial tone the Queen’s voice had taken. “You are of angels, my dear. All Windborn are.”
Azrael slammed back in her chair and wheezed. “Angels?”
“A Queen’s duty is to wean her children from the Light from which they’re born until they can live on their own without it,” she continued in an easy breath. “We require constant stores of Divine Material to keep the Windborn fed during their adolescence. That is why they must be sold, to pay the price of keeping them alive.” She clicked her tongue. “Such a vicious cycle.”
Azrael blinked and swallowed a dry lump in her throat. The Queen had just revealed what the Windborn truly were, and why she sold them into slavery. She would only share such things with one to take her place. Azrael began to hyperventilate.
“The Divine chose you,” the Queen said and pressed a firm hand on Azrael’s, “but you must accept out of your own free will. In this, you are in control of your own fate.” The Queen’s magic sent a wave of supernatural comfort and ease that pressed on Azrael’s shoulders.
Azrael shrugged the magic off, not wishing for synthetic comfort and the Queen smiled knowingly.
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Azrael admitted. How could she possibly accept? The only reason she was here was because she’d made a pact with a demon.
“You don’t have to make this choice blindly,” the Queen continued, seemingly oblivious to Azrael’s turmoil. “Come with me and I will show you what your decision would mean.”
Queen Ceres swept to the inner sanctum of the room with unmatched grace. Her tiny shoes clicked against the marble in gentle chimes, and with a wave of her hand a corner of the wall split into symmetrical lines, forming seams that spread until a doorway appeared. The stone’s surface became gritty and translucent. As it thinned, a long hallway emerged. Azrael mustered the courage to rise and follow.
Queen Ceres spread her arms and the dawn of a new sunrise lit the grand hall. Wide, golden arches speared into the cathedral ceilings and a layer of molten light swept away like ripples on a pond. Azrael gasped in elation as the Queen’s wild gaze caught hers.
“Majesty?” Azrael asked breathlessly.
The Queen’s arms dropped to her sides, causing her dress to flutter. Intricate seams in the fabric revealed tiny gems that glittered against the light. “Welcome to your new home.”
Azrael stepped into the brilliance. Her eyes darted to catch fleeting glimpses of a writing she couldn’t understand. Everywhere, there were whispers of a tome she couldn’t read, and if she listened closely, a chant she couldn’t quite make out.
The Queen placed a warm hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “You can sense the Essence.” Pride wafted from the Queen’s words.
“What is it?” Azrael asked.
“It’s Light. In these halls, it can speak. It whispers of all that has transpired in this place.”
Queen Ceres glided through the emblazoned corridor and Azrael followed with her heart in her throat.
“Do you know of the winged Queen?”
Azrael bit her lip before responding. “Yes, but it’s just a myth.” And so were angels.
Queen Ceres chuckled. “This Sanctum was built after she perished. So many Windborn were set free before her reign ended. It was such an era of prosperity and peace. It should never be forgotten by those brave enough to remember.”
Queen Ceres halted when they reached a living door of Light. It burned Azrael’s eyes to stare at the thick oak infused with Divine Material.
“Alexandria,” she said the name with reverence. The shimmering door before her ignored the profound moment. “Know that she was real, as are most myths you’ve been taught to disregard for your own safety.”
The Queen directed her penetrating gaze at Azrael. The power behind it pushed her back a step.
“Here, Alexandria ruled. Here, she grew, fought, and died. And it is here that we strive to fulfill her uncompleted destiny.”
Azrael wrung her hands. “What was her destiny?”
The Queen smiled. “Should you follow in her footsteps, you will one day find out.” She opened the door and her face softened, holding onto the knob. “I cannot give you all the answers. You must learn these things on your own if you’re truly to become Queen.” She opened her eyes, yet kept her gaze lowered to the floor. “I permit you one mentor. I pray he will guide you as he has guided me.”
She waved Azrael on. Never before had Azrael seen the Queen in a state of such submission. Her shoulders sagged and her gaze did not stray from her feet.
Curiosity drove Azrael’s feet forward and she stepped into the brilliant room. Massive glass windows shed in sunlight that dulled in comparison to the radiance of the Divine-lit walls.
Shielding her eyes from the glare, she focused her vision through slit fingers until the silhouette of a man appeared. Then, his face came into focus and Azrael drew in a ragged breath.
His was marble come to life. His stance, his body, his gaze were ultimate perfection. Stretched out behind him were great white arches; feathered adornments that moved with the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. To her utter amazement, she realized they were wings.
Unlike the jarring ice-blue eyes of a Windborn boy, this creature’s dark blue eyes enraptured her as if he held the ocean within himself—and he was anything but a boy. He held her in a bottomless, enticing gaze that demolished her world. Her entire being was snatched up in an iron web and nothing could have moved her from that spot.
“Azrael.” The trance was broken as he breathed her name. The iron web she had been caught in shattered, and with it, she lost what ability she had to stand. Azrael fell to her knees, breathless. Her instinct assured her what she saw couldn’t be real. But her wildly thumping heart told her this was no dream. The word forced its way into her head.
Angel.
He stepped forward, his perfect brow wrinkled with worry. “Please, you have nothing to fear.” He offered a hand, a legendary artist’s rendering come to life.
“My Divine, I’m not worthy to be in your presence.” She pushed her head to the floor in reverence.
His laughter startled her, bringing a flush to her face. “You’ve mistaken me. I’m no greater or lesser than you. I am Windborn, just as you are.”
Azrael peeled her forehead from the tiles. “How’s that possible? You are magnificent. You are perfect. You must be Divine.”
To Azrael’s mortification, he caught at her sleeve. “No more of this groveling. Come and sit with me.”
He waved to the inner hallway that opened up to a garden. Green puffs of bushes and yellow tufts of flowers swayed in the distance. Awed, Azrael shot a glance over her shoulder.
The Queen smiled and nodded in approval. To Azrael’s dismay, Queen Ceres closed the door, leaving the weight of responsibility to straddle Azrael’s shoulders.
Shouldering the weight as best she could, she followed the winged man into the gardens. A cool breeze swept relief under her sweat-dampened hairline. Circles of bushes, fruit trees, and flowers thrived all around them. Yet the natural beauty was dwarfed by a magnificent fountain that shone in the sunlight. Adorned with fine gemstones and statuettes, it thrust sparkling water up into the sky. Such contraptions were worth a small fortune, as they were crafted for royalty by Windborn engineers. Two years ago, Azrael had briefly entertained the idea of becoming an engineer, but had been laughed out of the boy’s classroom. Who’s laughing now?
Azrael jumped at a sudden fluttering sound as the angel flitted his wings. It reminded Azrael of a content bird.
He ruffled his wings once more before he sat on one of the benches that surrounded the fountain. Feeling too inferior to share a seat with this creature, Azrael knelt on the ground before him. The velvet carpet of grass grazed against her calf as she smoothed her robes over her knees.
The angel didn’t comment on the gesture. “You, like many who have been brought before me, have great potential. Every time I meet a Princess, I have great hopes that a new Alexandria has been born.”
Azrael barely heard him. Princess? Potential? Instead, all she could hear was the scathing cackle of the demon saying she didn’t deserve any of this. Azrael swallowed the lump in her throat and watched the dazzling fountain’s display, fumbling her hands over her robes.
“You may look at me when we are having a conversation, for if you continue this path, we will be having many,” he said.
Azrael forced herself to look upon his magnificent face. She regretted it the moment she did. The iron web of his eyes snatched up her body and tightened its grip on her lungs.
She coughed and rubbed her neck. “I’m sorry. You have to understand, I’ve never seen anything like you.”
He smiled. The gesture sent her heart flying up like the jets of water. “Then I will start there,” he said. “As I’ve already mentioned, we are both Windborn. You and I aren’t so different. We call you Aedium. In the Windborn tongue, it means ‘one of failed birth.’”
Failed birth...
“So, there are more of you?” she asked, hoping she bypassed the insult gracefully.
“Yes. There’s an entire city of Windborn. You should know the story: the City of Angels. That much at least you have been taught in your studies.”
Studies? More like stories.
“Our ‘studies’ are limited,” Azrael said, unable to keep the bite out of her voice. “I could show you every step in the waltz of Count Fermian or recount every verse in Lumerian’s Ballad, but I couldn’t tell you who our neighboring countries are, much less where angels come from.” She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the reality. “Five minutes ago, angels weren’t even real.”
“Your Queen has become cautious,” he said, his voice soft and kind as if talking to a frightened deer. “She only wishes for your safety, and she does it in the only way she knows how.”
Azrael opened her eyes and studied him. All she could see was sincerity. Perhaps he believed the Queen did what she thought was best. But the Queen wasn’t a hybrid. She couldn’t see both sides of the coin that was life.
He leaned and opened his palms in invitation. “Do you have any questions?”
Azrael widened both eyes, wishing to see the angel for what he was. The mixture of good and evil fought for dominance to interpret this creature. His face was the picture of perfection, and he emanated patience and kindness. Her blue eye showed him in perfect clarity, declaring that he was the embodiment of all that was good. Yet her green cast a dark halo around his face as if there was something it wanted to tell her, but it was far too deep to define what evil she sensed. She’d never seen that before.
Azrael decided to keep her question simple until she knew she could trust this angel. “Why me?”
He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. “Queen Ceres’s reign comes to an end. According to the Divine, the next to inherit the task, the one to replace her, is you.” He paused, letting that information sink in. “I was happily surprised when I learned that one such as yourself was the new Princess. A hybrid deserves the respect of others. Nothing would achieve that better than one of your kind becoming Queen.”
“Her Majesty said that if I were to take her place, I should sell my own kind as she has done.” She matched his gaze, feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous staring into the deep sea of his eyes. “Why? Is there no other way to wean us from the Light?”
He stiffened. “Is there another way? Unfortunately, no. A Queen must wean the Aedium, and she needs Divine Material to do it. The simple answer is if a Queen does not sell her wares, then the Council will revoke their support, and the wingless Windborn will go extinct.”
“And the Council would be?”
“They are the governing force in Celestia, the place where you were born. You must understand your heritage, you are Windborn—you are of angels. The Aedium are viewed as abominations, and not meant to survive.
“It takes a powerful creature to monitor and adjust the Light exposure to all in her domain. To become a Mistress of Manor Saffron, and Queen of Terra, is to sacrifice yourself for your kind and to lie to your own to keep them safe. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly.”
Azrael frowned and stared at her feet.
After a few moments, the angel took in a deep breath and his voice became strained. “I’m afraid I must tell you, the Hallowed was specific that your Acceptance must start today. If you deny the trial, another must be found to take your place.”
“Today?” Azrael’s body rippled in a tremor. “But isn’t the ritual potentially...fatal?”
He nodded with understanding. “Yes, it isn’t unheard of for a Princess to die under the stress of the Acceptance. It’s a risk you must be willing to take.” He locked his gaze onto hers and Azrael sucked in a breath. “You have the potential—you have been approved by the Divine. There can be no greater assurance that you’re capable of this. But you won’t be denied the choice of free will. Do you choose to follow your destiny? Or will you persevere to find your own? The decision is yours.”
The severity of the moment hung in the air. Time stilled as Azrael weighed the colossal pros and cons. To succeed meant to become powerful, respected, and live in a world with angels. What could she do with such power? Could she give Meretta a better life? Even more, could she change the lives of all Windborn? She’d made a deal with a demon for this, not that she could begin to understand how a demon got the Divine to agree to her initiation. This was an opportunity she couldn’t just throw away.
But if she failed, would it have been worth the gamble? She’d die, plain and simple. Meretta would be left alone and this would have all been for nothing. No matter how bleak her future seemed, she’d always have Meretta.
The angel waited patiently as she drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. She swallowed against her dry tongue. “I’m afraid of the pain, and I’m afraid of failure. I don’t want to die.”
She caught a flicker of darkness in his eyes. Perhaps he was afraid, too.
He nodded and leaned on his knees, lowering his voice. “It’s perfectly understandable to fear. We fear what we don’t understand, and we fear pain. But it’s through pain that we learn who we are. And it’s through learning the unknown that we become great.”
The loop of his sleeve dangled as he swept out his hand. “Consider your choice carefully. When the Hallowed asks for your decision, there will be no turning back.”
The darkness fled his eyes, leaving only kindness. Azrael placed her palm in his.
He led Azrael out of the garden and to her dismay their meeting was over. The Hallowed, stoic and expressionless, waited for them at the garden’s exit. Typical of a Hallowed, his eerie pupilless stare made him impossible to read.
“You will see me again, Azrael. Go with the Hallowed, and don’t fear the Acceptance. Whichever choice you make, I’m confident it will be the right one.”
Having given his final piece of advice, he turned to return to the gardens. Azrael’s heart sank and speaking with an angel seemed like a dream she would never grasp again. “Wait.” She stretched a hand to him in desperation. “Your name?”
He looked over the magnificent arch of a wing to reply. “Gabriel.”