Page 13 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

13

KYRIE

T he morning sun filters through the dense canopy above the hidden grove where Azrael and I have claimed as our training ground. Ancient stone pillars, half-crumbled and wrapped in vines, mark the boundaries of what must have once been a temple courtyard.

"Again." Azrael's voice is tough but not mean. "Your form is still too rigid."

I draw in a deep breath, channeling energy as he taught me. He found me what he calls a conduit, a cool band that wraps around my palm and has latent magic in it. He's been using it to teach me how to channel magic, though there are a lot of limitations.

The familiar tingle of magic spreads through my limbs, making my fingertips spark with faint blue light. Across from me, Azrael's own magic manifests as a brilliant white aura.

"Remember what I showed you." He moves in perfect synchronization with me, our bare feet sliding across the moss-covered stones. "Let it flow naturally, like water."

My movements mirror his - a complex dance of offensive and defensive stances designed to strengthen our magical connection. With each passing day, the patterns become more familiar, though his grace still far surpasses mine.

A bead of sweat rolls down my temple as we execute a particularly challenging sequence. Our energies intertwine, creating shimmering ribbons of light that weave between us. The air crackles with raw power.

"Better." His ice-blue eyes track my every move. "Now channel it outward."

I extend my arm, palm facing the ancient stone target we'd set up. The magic pulses, wanting to burst free, but I hold it steady as Azrael taught me. His energy mingles with mine, amplifying it until the air around us hums.

"Release."

Our combined power shoots forward in a brilliant stream of blue-white light, striking the stone with devastating force. The impact sends tremors through the ground, scattering fallen leaves and loose pebbles.

"Your control is improving, little bird." Azrael lowers his hands, the glow around him fading. "But you're still holding back."

"I don't..." I sigh. "I'm afraid of using too much magic."

"That's exactly why we train." He moves behind me, his frame just hovering as he shifts behind me. "The more you practice together, the better you'll know your limits."

I can feel his presence wrapped around me, warm and steady. Where once him being this close would make me tense, ready to bolt, now I find myself leaning into his guidance.

"Watch carefully." Azrael traces a complex sigil in the air, leaving trails of silvery light. "This enchantment requires precision. One wrong line and the whole spell collapses."

I study the pattern as it hangs suspended before us - intricate swirls and sharp angles forming a design that reminds me of frost on a winter morning. The magic pulses with a gentle rhythm, like a heartbeat.

"Now you try." His voice softens, losing its usual edge. He steps closer, his chest nearly touching my back as he does it again so I can mimic him, follow him through it. "Feel how the energy wants to flow."

The familiar spark of magic dances across my skin as we trace the sigil together. The closeness should make me uncomfortable - every instinct honed from years of mistrust screaming to put distance between myself and this xaphan. But something has shifted.

"Good." His breath stirs my hair. "Now hold that energy - don't let it dissipate."

The sigil glows brighter as I pour more power into it. Azrael's own magic wraps around mine, supporting and strengthening rather than overwhelming. Where our energies meet, the light shifts to a deep purple, beautiful and mesmerizing.

"You're learning quickly." There's a note of approval in his voice that makes my chest warm with pride.

I've been enjoying learning magic. He's also taught me how to use my blades to channel the magic that they hold, and I've been able to sense magic more and more. He says it will help me when it comes to locating the stones in the trials, as well as sensing the traps and barriers set up.

His patience surprises me. The cold, calculating warrior who first agreed to train me seems transformed in these quiet moments. His touch remains gentle as he adjusts my elbow, correcting my form with small, precise movements.

"The key is balance," he murmurs. "Too much force and the spell shatters. Too little and it never takes shape."

I nod, maintaining my focus on the glowing sigil even as I become increasingly aware of his solid presence behind me. For the first time since we began training, I feel truly safe in his company.

The sigil flares with unstable energy, its pattern distorting as my concentration wavers. Sweat drips down my temple, muscles trembling from maintaining the complex magical weave for so long.

"Focus," Azrael guides me. "You know what you want it to look like, what you want it to do. Keep that in your mind and force the magic to bend to you."

I grit my teeth, trying to correct the imbalance, but the magic surges wildly. The purple light intensifies, spinning out of control. My knees buckle under the strain.

Strong arms catch me before I hit the stone floor. The sigil shatters in a shower of sparks, sending ripples of power through the air that make my skin tingle. I find myself pressed to Azrael's chest, his wings instinctively curved forward to shield us both and his arms holding me dipped back.

Our faces are so close I can see flecks of silver in his ice-blue eyes. His breath fans across my cheek, warm against my cooling skin. Time seems to slow, the world narrowing to just this moment - the solid strength of his arms around me, the faint glow of residual magic dancing between us.

"I-" The words catch in my throat as his gaze drops to my lips.

The air grows heavy with more than just magical energy. Every point of contact between us burns like fire, yet I can't bring myself to pull away. His wings shift slightly, the pure white feathers catching the filtered sunlight in a way that creates a halo effect around us.

One of his hands moves to steady my waist, fingers splaying across my lower back. The touch sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with magic. My own hands rest against his chest, and beneath my palm I can feel his heart beating as rapidly as mine.

"Kyrie." My name comes out as barely more than a whisper, rough with something I've never heard in his voice before.

The tension crackles between us like lightning before a storm, charged with possibility and unspoken words. Ancient magic swirls in lazy patterns around our feet, responding to the intensity of the moment.

Without conscious thought, I close the remaining distance between us. I can't lie and say I haven't been attracted to him. He's gorgeous, even more so than most xaphan, but I also have never felt so comfortable around anyone. This yearning has been building and right now, it's ripping away my doubt as I wrap my arms around his neck.

Our lips meet, and the world explodes into pure sensation. His mouth is warm and demanding against mine, one hand sliding up my back while the other cradles my head. Magic crackles around us, responding to the surge of emotions - ribbons of purple light dancing through the air.

Azrael's wings curl tighter, cocooning us in a shelter of soft white feathers that shimmer with their own inner light. The magical energy between us pulses stronger, creating a feedback loop of power that makes my skin tingle and my heart race. Each point where our bodies touch feels electrified.

He tastes like lightning and starlight, something ancient and powerful that makes my head spin. His fingers thread through my hair, angling my face to deepen the kiss. I clutch at his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath my hands as he pulls me closer.

Time loses all meaning in this moment. There is only the press of his lips against mine, the steady beat of his heart under my palm, the soft brush of his wings against my skin.

I pull back first, the magic-charged air between us crackling as our lips part. My heart pounds against my ribs like a caged bird seeking freedom. Azrael's wings slowly unfurl, letting in streams of light that break the intimate cocoon we'd created.

The reality of my situation hits me like a blast of winter wind. I was just kissing a xaphan. One who is training me to go through trials meant to kill me. One who might lead to my death. One who I don't know if I can really trust.

What the fuck was I thinking?

"I can't." My voice cracks. I step back, breaking contact with his warmth. The loss of his touch leaves me cold despite the warmth of the day. "This isn't- I'm not-"

Azrael watches me with those piercing ice-blue eyes, his expression unreadable. His wings shift, catching the light in ways that make my chest ache with their beauty. But I've learned firsthand that the most beautiful things are the most deadly.

My fingers brush my lips, still tingling from his kiss. The gesture draws his gaze, and the intensity there makes my stomach flip. Desire wars with duty, leaving me dizzy and unsure. The magic in my blood responds to my emotional state, creating small whirlwinds of fallen leaves around my feet.

"The trials," I manage to say, taking another step back. "I need to focus on the trials. On getting the medicine. I can't afford distractions."

Azrael nods, swallowing hard. For a moment, I can see it there on his face. I think he knows that's not the reason, but he doesn't call me out on it. He only steps back, his wings pinching in. "I think that's enough for today.

Then, he's gone.

I bolt upright in bed, sweat-soaked sheets tangled around my legs. The nightmare clings like water, refusing to fade even as moonlight streams through my window. In my mind, white wings still flash with deadly grace, steel glinting in the sun as the xaphan's blade arcs toward me.

The phantom pain burns across my back, tracing the path of my scar. I press my hand against my racing heart, trying to steady my breathing. The small crystal lights on my ceiling flicker to life, responding to me as I move.

I was reliving that day. It feels like I'm always reliving that day. The memory haunts me, feeling worse now that I slipped up with Azrael. I let myself give into this desire that I can't even believe I have when I shouldn't trust me.

He's a fucking trainer here for gods' sake!

"I- I'm not trying to cause any trouble."

"No? Too bad." Electricity crackles through the air. "Trouble was exactly what I was looking for."

I kick free of the sheets, pacing my small room to try to rid myself of the memory still clinging to me. The rock is cool beneath my bare feet. Outside, night birds call to each other across the human quarter, their songs a poor imitation of the ethereal music that drifts down from New Solas's golden spires.

After the initiation, we were given free reign to find our own rooms. I was lucky enough to find a small one tucked away in the back corner, claiming it to be only my own. I barricade the door each night and I manage to get decent sleep when I don’t feel like I’m going to be attacked by the others.

My fingers trace the rough-hewn stones of my bedroom wall, focusing on their solid reality to ground myself. But even this simple touch brings back memories of this morning's training - of Azrael's hands guiding mine, his wings creating a shelter of white feathers around us.

How can I reconcile these two truths? The xaphan who scarred me, who saw me as less than nothing, and Azrael with his patient instruction and gentle touches. Both beautiful, both deadly, both capable of destroying everything I hold dear.

The kiss replays in my mind, electric and dangerous. It felt…Fuck, I'd never felt anything like it. I could have drowned in him. Even now I crave him. But the memory tangles with the nightmare - white wings and steel, pain and pleasure, trust and terror.

I sink onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in my hands. The moonlight casts wing-like shadows on the wall as it spills from the side of the massive windows, making my heart stutter. Even now, years later, the sight of wings can send ice through my veins. Yet today I willingly stepped into Azrael's embrace, let his wings enfold me.

"What am I doing?" I whisper to the empty room.

And just like me, it has no answer.