I elbowed him in the stomach, smirking at his gasp of outrage. The king ignored our antics and pointed at the tattoo.
“That, Nephilim, is the only way you don’t cease to exist or cycle to the lowest level of Hell. Assuming you don’t want to be burned alive for an infinite number of years, I’d think you’d want the blood-band.”
“Now that you mention it, I think red really goes well with my green eyes. I’ll take it,” Oliver said, nodding like he was possessed.
“And me?”
“My blood and will allow certain beings to reside in my lands. Seeing as you are my blood, there’s potential you don’t need it, but I’d rather not take the risk.”
Sounded like a good enough reason. “Okay.”
“I’ll be taking that blood-band now.” Oliver held out his arm.
The king’s lips lifted in a cunning smile. Pulling a knife from a sheath at his side, he slit his palm. Cato drew a stick from his pocket with a needle on the end, dipped it in the king’s blood, and stabbed Oliver with it.
“Fuck-a-duck, that hurts,” Oliver exclaimed as Cato continued.
Blood-band. Right.
Cato finished Oliver’s tattoo and wrapped it in a strip of thin material. “Every six months, you’ll need it redone,” he told Oliver, moving to me and pulling up my sleeve.
I winced at the first bloody poke. “And the Evanescent Rune?”
“A disguise,” the king explained. “You are one of a kind. The knowledge of who you are and how you came to be could be dangerous—not just for you, but for your mother and this realm. I don’t want any redeemed soul sharing information with the Seraphim when they ascend, or for the Damned Souls to use you to get to me. The Evanescent Rune will hide the white ring in your eyes from everyone who doesn’t know who you are.”
“Damned Souls?” I asked, watching and wincing with each stab of Cato’s needle.
“Souls dark enough to be sent to the lowest circle. There, they burn endlessly, choking on the stench of their flesh until the Hordes of Hell consume them,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Lately, we’ve seen more of them in our circle.”
“And that’s not normal,” I surmised, noting the strain in his expression.
“No. I reside in the Redemption Circle—the final circle, where souls are purified on their way to Heaven. Most won’t risk anythingto prevent their ascension. But in the last few years, Damned Souls have been sneaking through, causing havoc.”
Sneaking through.So, he didn’t know how they were getting in.
“What kind of havoc?”
The corners of his eyes tightened, and his white rings flashed with light. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Damned Souls were condemned to burn forever in unending torture by his hand. Add that to the fact they were corrupted enough to be sent there in the first place, and I could only imagine the horrors they’d wrought in this circle. Horrors they werestillcausing, considering he hadn’t figured out how they were getting in.
No, I didn’t want them to know I was the Princess of Hell either.
Knowing he wouldn’t answer, I brought up another issue just as Cato finished my tattoo.
“What about Michael? He knows. He’ll tell the Seraphim.”
The king’s nostrils flared. “The Seraphim would demand proof of his tale. Proof we won’t give them. Only the people in this room, Saraqael, and General Ronen will know you are a born angel and the Princess of Hell. To everyone else, you’ll be a warrior in training, attempting to prove yourself and work off your debt to stay in my castle.”
“And Oliver? What’s his cover story?”
“Your companion is sharing the same debt.”
The funny thing about our cover storywas thatwe really were going to train—and since the general hated me, we would probably trainhard.
Cato wrapped my blood-band, and the king took out an angelic feather.
“What do you know about angelic feathers?” he asked, his gaze skeptical.
“Only Archangels and Seraphim have them, and they’re used to carve runes.”
