“Thank you for taking a moment for our beloved Amaryss. Now,” She pointed at Quazar. “Fallen Prince, please join me on the dais.”
I sank back into my seat, a mess of all kinds of emotions. Rage. Anger. Brokenness. Longing for my Manmi. Grief. Vengeance for the head of the handsome Fallenspawn now making his way to the dais.
I found it odd how all of the Legionnaires from Azarath Academy wore their loose fighting robes with leather attachments, but he didn’t. He was constantly in that ridiculous looking suit.
“Dressed like the Prince you are.” Granmanmi Asarah chuckled, gesturing for him to fly to the center of the dais. “You know what to doPrinceQuazar.”
I raised a brow, my eyes glued to the charades. Quazar kept his back straight. His chin lifted. There wasn’t a thing out of place on him. His hair, clothes.
He had no weapons, but none of us were fools.Hewas the weapon all by himself. He floated to land on his feet at the end of the dais, sauntering over to the center where Granmanmi pointed.
“What’s Granmanmi doing?” Hosea whispered.
Ezekiel grunted, tossing and catching a dagger he’d slipped out from his waist. He continued the motion while his eyes remained below. I watched my siblings. We all bore the same tension in our taut shoulders, and angled jawlines. Each one’s winged ears were twitching, as if they were on high alert.
I looked back to the dais. And found Quazar standing barefoot, half naked, with his chin lifted high. Even from where I sat, I could see his emerald eyes blazing, the golden trails around them glowing.
He looked like a god. A conqueror. Like the whisper of death from an open invitation. One that I was dumb enough to consider accepting.
He wore nothing but obsidian leggings that clung to him like liquid. I couldn’t help but drink in that chiseled body, those hypnotizing eyes, and the pride that squared his wide shoulders. He kept his wings loose behind his back, as if he was being examined by a Raephim on just another random dawn.
“He’s pretty to look at,” mumbled Evanae wistfully.
“I wonder who this wicked prince is actually bonded to since Safah said the Disciples were made to temple-bond to them,” Uriah said, eyes looking at Quazar with an unreadable expression, masked heavily in the twinight.
I kept my mouth shut.
My older siblings, Jael and Hosea, would know immediately from my tone if I was hiding something. And right now, I was not about to tell themIwas the one bonded to the Fallen Prince.
“What in all the realms is on his body? It’s everywhere.”
My brothers nodded at Jael’s observation.
The inscriptions.
I thought they’d just been on his body from his neck to his stomach and down his arms and hands. Instead, they covered his entire body from neck to foot.
I swallowed. What in the stars did it mean? He had other images and symbols engraved into his skin colorfully, but for the most part, it was the inscriptions.
“Maybe he’s cursed,” Evanae whispered, reaching for my hand and taking it into hers. “A wicked prince of curses.”
I snorted.
That was a generous way of putting it.
“May the Rites begin!” Granmanmi called.
Silence reigned across Titombwe.
I stilled. I tried to breathe. I couldn’t.
I looked at Quazar.
Somehow, despite the innumerable number of angels, dragons, fae, and all of the different races present, somehow the Fallen Prince still found a way to findme.
Those jade eyes snapped to mine, glittering with profound hatred. He breathed in a deep breath, hands clenching into fists, his eyes promising nothing but absolutely Hèls for me.
As ifIwas the one parading him before the entire empire like some unicorn for auction. I was tempted to pull my eyes away from him, but I didn’t. Iwouldn’t.
