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SARAKIEL
Ihad barely been at Helena two days when I got the news; the Tyrant was here. Though my superficial wounds had healed, the image of Aithen’s brutal death at Medrion’s hands still plagued my waking and dreaming moments. I hadn’t really gotten much sleep, and when I did, the Archangel was there, grinning, ready to deliver another dose of torment.
And I was sure the Tyrant had sent us both into his jaws.
Now he had followed me all the way from Meridian. Why? He had his lover back; he didn’t need me anymore.Let him sit and rot in a dungeon.The last thing I needed right now, while I was still on the road to recovery, was to subject myself to more of his manipulations… and yet, as I sat there in my room, where I spent most of my time, I couldn’t help but chew on the question.
Why was he here,really?
Getting here was difficult, though it was probably easier for him than it had been for me. I had no doubt he had immediately puffed his chest like some kind of dark peacock upon landing and demanded a bunch of things. The Tyrant was like that. Itwasn’tlike him to get thrown into a jail though, and that was the confusing part.
Curiosity and anger were fighting a bloody battle inside of me, but curiosity was winning. As much as I despised the man who had chased me all the way here, I also couldn’t help wanting to hear what he had to say. Maybe something had happened… maybe he had captured Medrion.
The enemy of my enemy was my friend, after all.
Right?
I decided to get up and out of my bed, cursing myself for being so stupid. The guard at the door was ready to escort me to the dungeons whenever I asked. Micah and Helena had told me they would come down to back me up if I wanted them to, but for now, I wanted to speak to him alone.
There were things I had to say, and I didn’t want them around for it.
When we reached the door to the cells, I asked the guard to wait outside. He agreed, opened the door, and let me through. The cells under Helena weren’t dark, or gloomy, but bright and well lit. The walls down here were white stone and marble, as they were everywhere else. Sconces lit up otherwise dark passages and corners. When I saw the Tyrant, he wasn’t sitting somberly in a patch of shadow; he was standing, glistening in the light.
He was shirtless, as ever, his giant, bat-like wings curled behind his back. When he turned his head to the side, I saw his long, dark horns protruding out of his forehead. He turned to look at me, inhaled deeply to make himself look bigger, and came up to the edge of his cell. I approached, carefully, keeping a good couple of arms between myself and the bars he was caged behind.
I watched his jaw clench, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tautening, further emphasizing the ‘V’ shape of his body. Folding my arms across my chest, I turned my eyes up at him. “This is a good look for you,” I said.
Our eyes locked. The Tyrant smirked. “I am in here because I choose to be.”
“That’s not how Azrael told the story.”
His smirk faltered, just for a moment. He licked his lips. “Azrael lied.”
I shook my head. “Why are you here?”
“I needed to speak to you.”
“Unless you’re about to tell me that you’ve captured Medrion and have him holed up in a cell just like this one, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here? To find out what became of Medrion?”
“Do you know where he is, or not?”
“If I were to tell you I had captured him? If I were to tell you he was suffering inmydungeons right now… would that change the scorn shooting out of your eyes when you look at me?”
“It wouldn’t… but it would bring me one step closer to what I want.”
“Vengeance. You still crave it?”
“Now, more than ever,” I hissed. “First, I wanted to hurt him for what he did to Gadriel. Then I wanted to hurt him for what he did to me. Now I want to hurt him for what he did to Aithen.”
The Tyrant’s eyes lowered. “I feel his loss.”
“Do you?” I snapped.
He gave me his eyes, again. “I do, more than you know. I feel for all of the angels under my command.”
“You feel more for some of them than others, though, don’t you?”
