Page 20 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

20

KYRIE

T he flickering light from the orbs casts dancing shadows across my small room in the contestant quarters. Tomorrow marks the final trial, and my heart pounds at the thought.

I never did ask where Azrael was that day he disappeared. But he's been here every day after for the last week, helping me prepare. I haven't told him about the map, and each night he's walked me back to my room and been here until I fell asleep. I've yet to study it again, though I did so much that first day that I know I have it memorized.

Still, I finally managed to get away from him, telling him I had to go to the showers. I moved fast and slipped out the opposite entrance of where I went in so he couldn't escort me back here.

Now alone, I go to the corner of my room and shift the rock out of the way. I shift closer, sliding my hand inside - but I find nothing.

"No, no, no." I drop to my knees, trying to look inside, but it is empty

My hands shake as I tear through the room, upending the wooden chest containing my meager belongings. Tunics and training clothes scatter across the floor. The map should be here, along with the gemstone—my only advantages for tomorrow's deadly climb.

Cool night air seeps through cracks in the stone walls as I check every hiding spot. Behind loose stones, inside the legs of my rickety bed frame, within the folds of my extra blanket. Nothing.

"Think, Kyrie." I press my palm against the conduit band, drawing on its stored magic to illuminate the darkest corners. The soft blue glow reveals only dust and cobwebs.

That map was going to help me get through this trial. And the gemstone would have boosted my magic. Now they are both gone.

My bare feet pad across the cold floor as I check the window ledge one last time. Outside, the spires of New Solas pierce the night sky, their ethereal light a constant reminder of what I'm fighting for. What I need to win to save my mother.

A sound in the hallway makes me freeze. Footsteps? I press myself against the wall, listening. The steps fade away, but doubt gnaws at my gut. Someone must have taken them. Another contestant? Or worse - the xaphan themselves. Have I been caught? And that's what this is?

I slide down the wall, my fingers tracing the scar on my neck. Without those items, my chances of surviving the final trial just dropped from slim to nearly impossible.

A creak pierces the silence, and I tense as my door as it swings open, revealing Azrael's towering figure. His white wings catch the moonlight streaming through my window, but something's off in his usually stern expression.

"You gave me the slip," he murmurs, watching me warily.

His ice-blue eyes dart to the scattered contents of my room before meeting mine. There—a flicker of something I've never seen in him before. Guilt?

I launch to my feet, my conduit band humming with stored magic. It hits me, why he didn't want me alone. "It was you. You took them."

"Little bird—" He steps into my room, closing the door behind him.

"Don't." I advance on him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "The map. The gemstone. Where are they?"

His jaw tightens. "You don't understand?—"

"Then explain it to me." Magic crackles along my arm, making the candlelight flicker. "Because from where I'm standing, you just sabotaged my only chance of surviving tomorrow."

Azrael's wings shift, a telltale sign of discomfort I've learned to read over our training sessions. He reaches for me, but I step back.

"The map…" He runs a hand through his black hair, loosening strands from his neat tie. "It said where all the gemstones are."

"Good!" I throw my hands up. "Then why wouldn't you want me to know that?"

"Because I needed that information."

"So you decided to steal my only advantages?" Heat rises in my chest. "Rather than tell me?"

He stiffens. "It's not like you told me about the map."

I grit my teeth. "I didn't have to. I found it. I choose who reads it. I didn't expect you to be a thief." My voice breaks. "My mother is dying, Azrael. I need those wings. I need that reward."

He takes another step closer, and this time I don't retreat. "And I need you alive, little bird."

His words hit me like a physical blow. The tenderness in his voice clashes with his actions, feeding the betrayal burning in my chest.

"Need me alive?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "You're my instructor, Azrael. Nothing more."

"No." His wings spread wider, nearly spanning my small room. "Kyrie, you know it's more than that."

I cough out a laugh, growing angrier. "Why would you take the map?" I glare up at him. "Just tell me that."

He lets out a soft sigh and then says the last thing I'm expecting. "I'm not really a trainer."

My brows furrow. "What?"

"I come from a noble bloodline, one that has been cursed." His wings shift and that's when I notice for the first time there's gray on them. "My family is cursed to deteriorate. We are all dying and those gemstones - the one you found and the ones on the map - are the only way to stop it."

So he took it to save himself. He took it because he cared more about saving his life than mine and instead of trusting me to get them out, he wanted to be sure he knew where they were.

Magic surges through my conduit band, responding to my fury. "So all those training sessions, teaching me to channel magic—what was that? Just making sure I'd survive long enough to help you find it?"

"At first." He reaches for me again, but blue sparks leap between us. "But then?—"

"Then what?" I advance on him, forcing him back a step. "You realized the pathetic human might actually be useful?"

"I realized I couldn't watch you die!" His voice booms through the room, rattling the window. "I took the map because I knew you'd get through the trial, but I needed to find a way to get the gemstones. I can help save you but there's only one thing that will keep me alive."

"And I could have gotten it for you!" The magic explodes from my band, shattering the orbs and plunging us into darkness. "Now, I might die and you might not get the stones. Or did you find a way to get them that doesn't involve using me?"

He shifts, not looking at me and it only angers me further. I want to understand - because the map could have benefitted us both. But in the end, there is nothing to understand. He wanted the information more than he wanted me to have it.

And I was no different. I hid the map from him, just in case. And when he found it, he stole it away.

I guess that goes to show just little trust we really had in each other.

"My mother needs that medicine," I seethe. "My family is counting on me. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? Noble-born Azrael, playing with human lives for his own gain."

His wings rustle in the darkness. When he speaks, his voice is raw. "My father is bedridden. My siblings have died. Every day, the curse eats away at us. I understand more than you know."

"Then give me back my advantages." I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

He looks at me, almost so sad that it breaks my own heart. "I can't," he whispers. "I gave the gemstone to my healers. And the map would be no use to you now. You have a trial in hours." He shakes his head. "I did not do this to hurt you, I swear. I just didn't see any other way?—"

"You had no right!" My fists connect with his chest, each impact punctuated by the crackle of magic from my conduit band. "I trusted you! All those hours teaching me to harness magic, to survive - was any of it real?"

I know he hears what I'm really asking - everything between us, was it real? Was the kiss, the night in my bed, the way we finally opened up to each other, was it real?

Because right now, I feel like I was played for a fool.

Azrael catches my wrists, but I wrench away. The moonlight streaming through my window illuminates the pain in his eyes, making my chest ache worse.

"I would have helped you!" My voice cracks as tears spill down my cheeks. "If you'd just told me about the gemstones, about your family - I understand desperate choices, Azrael. I'm making one tomorrow!"

"Kyrie—"

"No!" Magic surges through my band, casting wild blue shadows across the walls. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Instead, you manipulated me, used our training sessions to—to what? Keep me compliant? Make sure I'd be useful when the time came?"

His wings curl forward, trying to shield us both, but I shove against them. The soft feathers bend under my palms as more tears fall.

"I believed in you." The words taste like ash. "When I thought I could never trust a xaphan, I trusted you. I thought you were different." My fist strikes his chest again. "But you're exactly what they said—a manipulative, cruel?—"

"Little bird, please?—"

"Don't call me that!" I slam both hands against him, channeling magic through my conduit band. Blue energy crackles between us. "You don't get to use that name anymore. Not after—" A sob breaks free. "Not after making me feel like this ."

The magic pulses brighter, reflecting off his ice-blue eyes as I continue to strike his chest. Each hit is weaker than the last as grief overtakes anger.

"I would have understood," I whisper, my forehead falling against his chest. "I would have helped you find it. Why couldn't you just trust me?"

"I-" He shakes his head. Even he seems uncertain now. "It's not like that."

His words only enrage me.

"Get away from me!" My voice rises, echoing off the stone walls. The conduit band burns against my palm as magic surges through it, helping me push him back

"Kyrie." He catches my wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Let me explain?—"

"Don't touch me!" The magic explodes outward, knocking over my wooden chest. It crashes against the wall with a thunderous bang.

"Little bird, please." His voice drops to a whisper. "We can fix th?—"

"Stop calling me that!" I wrench away from him, my fury building like a storm. "I'm not your little anything. I'm just another human you can use for your precious noble quest, right?"

His wings curl forward, trying to contain my outburst. "That's not?—"

"Get out." I shove him toward the door, channeling more magic through my band. Blue energy crackles along my arms, illuminating his pained expression. "I don't need your pity or your lies or whatever game you're playing."

"This isn't a game?—"

"No?" Another push, harder this time. His wings brush against the doorframe. "Then what is it? What do you get out of training me, out of making me think—" My voice breaks. "Making me think you cared?"

Footsteps sound in the hallway. Voices murmur, growing closer.

"Out!" I give him one final shove, pouring my hurt and betrayal into the magic. It propels him through the doorway. "Stay away from me, Azrael. I mean it."

His hand catches the doorframe. "Kyrie?—"

I slam the door in his face, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to offer. The wood trembles under my palm as I lean against it, letting the tears finally fall.

I slide down against the door, my legs giving out as the magic fades from my conduit band. The stone floor bites cold through my thin clothes, but I barely notice. My chest aches with each breath, like I've been struck by lightning.

Rising on shaky legs, I stumble to the scattered contents of my room. My fingers find the rough fabric of my training clothes. I lay them out methodically: the reinforced leather vest, the tight-fitting pants designed for climbing, the sturdy boots with their spelled soles. Each piece represents hours of preparation with... him.

The orb is still broken, but I don't need it. I channel magic through my band, creating just enough light to work by. The spelled thread I'd been saving for emergencies will have to do. I weave it through my boots and vest, reinforcing the enchantments already there.

"I don't need his help." The words taste bitter as I check my gear. "I don't need anyone's help."

But as I braid my hair back tight against my skull, my hands shake. The map had shown me what I was up against - though he was right about one thing. It's a massive tower and that map wasn't going to tell me anything useful. The gemstone would have bought me precious minutes of clean air.

No. I square my shoulders, facing my reflection in the window glass. The determined woman staring back has survived worse. Has climbed The Ridge in winter. Has survived a xaphan attack and living in the slums.

My anger crystallizes into something harder, colder. Something I can use.

The tower won't kill me. And neither will Azrael's betrayal.