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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 Azrael 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 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.
Leanne smiled at Azrael for the first time before she twirled to the silvered closet. Leanne grasped the curled handle and swung it open, hardly glancing at the row of gowns before selecting one. She clicked her tongue as she pulled it out, as if to say, perfect.
She held it up for Azrael to see. The deep turquoise dress boasted a gold band that wove through the collar. Azrael hardly saw gold outside of the Inner Sanctum, as silver was the metal of choice. Gold was reserved for royalty. Its yellow, metallic color was considered a symbol of Light, touting a kinship with the Divine themselves.
Azrael slipped off her simple Windborn gown and allowed Leanne to replace it with a silk dress. The softness that encased her felt light and all too revealing.
Azrael turned to the mirror, unsure of what she would see. The dress was exquisite, there was no doubt about that, but she was accustomed to wearing more layers. To make matters worse, her blossoming breasts perked as Leanne tied the golden sash tight under her chest. Azrael’s pink-powdered cheeks deepened in a natural blush.
“This hardly feels appropriate for audience with other, older, Windborn women. Don’t you think?”
Of course, Leanne couldn’t answer and simply smiled as she creased the folds of the sash.
The young woman in the reflection was not anyone Azrael knew. Her shoulders were bare and alluring. Her dress was exquisite as turquoise lined with gold and silver dazzled every which way she turned. Even her eyes pierced through with dark intensity, one blue and one green.
Leanne forced a set of bangles on Azrael’s wrists, and then worked with her hair, winding the loose strands into long braids. She pinned a jewel in the center, and offered a silver hand mirror for Azrael to admire the work. The jewel was breathtaking, a dazzling red gem surrounded by black lace. A fine touch, and Azrael had no doubt the maidservant was handpicked by the Queen for such skill.
While impressive, Azrael was exasperated and well beyond her scope of patience. When she stepped for the door, a wild jingle of bells made her scoff and turn around. “What? What could possibly be left to do? I look fine,” she snapped.
A pair of tiny turquoise slippers dangled from Leanne’s fingers. Azrael rolled her eyes and bent down, nearly stifled from the tightly bound sash, but managed to replace her fur-lined moccasins with the jeweled slippers. They were hardly as comfortable, but as she wiggled her toes, even she had to admit they completed the ensemble.
Azrael stood and placed her hands on her hips, waiting for Leanne’s approval. Leanne bounced her right hand with a smirk.
Finally.
Azrael rushed out of the room before Leanne could change her mind.