Page 54 of As Above, So Below

“The robes you arrived in are so poorly tattered. They’re folded beside your bag should you want to keep them,” she says, kneeling as she points behind me. “If you’d rather not, let me know and I can have them taken care of.”

I glance in the given direction and find the leather messenger bag and my robes sitting upon a small table. Turning back, she pulls open a drawer and withdraws a couple more pieces of fabric and a pair of boots. She closes everything before turning to me.

“I think you’ll find this ensemble suitable for the time being,” she offers the pile of folded clothing in her hands to me. “But you’re going to want to glamour or shift your wings. We don’t have clothing that will accommodate them, and it’s better to have them hidden while you’re with us.”

Hide my wings?

Then I remember.

Winged fae were targets for many mortals. Or at least they had been. Now, they’re all but extinct or gone into hiding. Wearing my wings on display would only serve to offer myself as a target for power-hungry fae, desperate humans, and resentful demons. My wings make me a target.

My mind flashes to the faces that had seen me in the garden just moments ago.

“Will they say anything?” I look toward the door, clearing my throat again.

Speaking common tongue feels heavy in my mouth, on my tongue. It forces me to use a higher register of my voice, and compared to Malbolge it feels lazy. The words tend to string themselves together without definitive breaks.

Singing.

It feels like singing, and I hate it.

Not quite like the language of the heavens, but close enough to cause my lip to curl. Either way, it’s an unwelcome contrast to the language of the hells that I’ve used for centuries. While this isn’t the first time I’ve used common tongue, and I’m fluent in the language, it’s not Malbolge. I much prefer the guttural, punctuated directness of the language of demons.

“No.” Artemise purses her lips. “They’re devoted to Celesta. They will follow her wishes in keeping your arrival a secret.”

Of course Celesta would want to keep me hidden. Again, I’m nothing more than a tool. I nod silently as I suck on my teeth.

Emergingwithinthe Moon Temple was not an outcome I had considered. And looking back, it should have been. I should have expected the talisman left behind by my mother would deliver me straight to her. At least here, I’m protected from Netharis. I may not trust Celesta, but I will take advantage of the haven she’s offered.

With a reluctant sigh, I reach into my innate. The familiar shimmer reaches back, but I find the available pool shallower and nowhere near as vast. A reduced innate I had expected.

A reduction of this degree I had not.

I will have to be stringent with my innate use.

Letting it take control is out of the equation. Burning through my reduced innate source could land me in very dangerous situations. It’s my only viable defense. I’m proficient enough with small weapons, such as a dagger, but not enough to confidently defend my life.

Yet another hurdle to add to the growing track of them.

As my wings vanish in a billow of shadows, I’m left appearing entirely fae. A touch of sadness spikes through my chest. I’ve never liked hiding my wings. Not even in the hells. My wings are easily my favorite feature. No other demons, including my twin, have wings like mine.

The thought of Vaelyn causes me to wince.

I lack time to mourn our separation right now.

Shoving the feeling into the dark recesses of my being, I take the clothing from Artemise and proceed to dress myself. The concern on my face grows as I slip on a pair of black, legging-like pants withleather reinforced knees and a black, sleeveless, close-fitting shirt. Attire entirely different from what I’ve worn for the last twelve centuries.

“Do I not get robes?” I ask, peering down at my body as I tuck my necklace under my shirt.

Artemise chuckles, her eyes gleaming. “You have to earn your robes, my child.”

She sets a pair of tall, black leather boots and a pair of socks at my feet as I tuck the ends of my shirt into my pants. Grabbing both, I move to sit down on the bed. She watches me with a smile on her face.

“Zuriel, did he come through too?” I ask, rolling the short socks over my feet. They barely reach my ankles.

“Who?” Her head tilts with the question.

“Tall, dark skinned, three sets of wings,” I say, pulling on the boots. “A son of Gaia.”