She doesn’t look much older than me, and something about her face is vaguely familiar.
“What’s your name?” I ask idly, pointedly not saying a word to Abaddon. It’s already bad enough that I’m naked under a sheet while a stranger channels some ticklish magic to my lady parts—but having him skulking in the corner of the room, watching my every move, is making it infinitely worse.
She smiles, pushing a bit of seafoam green hair out of the way. “Shasta of House Thalorion.”
“What is the whole house thing about? Are you sorted by a magic hat, by chance?”
“What? You… you don’t know the noble houses?” The angel looks at me with a funny face, and I’m sure it’s not because of my joke. “Thalorion is my great-grandfather, you could say. He founded the only major house from Raphael and Zophiel, as their eldest son. We’re predominantly healing specialties.”
Ah, so they’re family-based. That makes sense. Still, I scowl in the direction of Abaddon. I can’t believe he didn’t think it prudent that I know the first thing about this apparently complex society I’m about to move to—but also, I can absolutely believe it. "It seems I’ve been kept in the dark more than I could have imagined.”
She follows my eyes, but stops herself from turning to look at him. “Well… Once you get to Elohim, I’d be happy to show you around and teach you some things. I’ve worked with enough humans to not be prejudiced. I can only imagine what you’ll be up against?—”
“There’s no need to scare her,” Abaddon growls from acrossthe room. “Are you finished?”
“Yes.” Shasta stands, looking at me with a bit of a worried expression. I can’t say I blame her, with the state my vagina was in. “Unless there is something else you need help with, Kae?”
I’m pretty sure there’s a double meaning to that question. And honestly, yes, I could probably use her help. But I haven’t quite decided how I want to deal with him yet... “If I wanted to reach you in Elohim, how would I do that?”
“I’m currently living at the Academy. Just ask the staff. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you find me.”
She’s still in school. Wow. Okay. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Have a good day, Your Highness.” She gives a slight bow before taking her leave, hopefully missing the horrified expression it gives me.
‘Your Highness.’ I hate it. Nobody should be treating me like royalty. I should be back home, watching movies with Jackie, biding our time until the world ends. I’m sure I could figure out how to work my powers from there.
I just need out of this fucking marriage agreement.
A little voice in the back of my mind keeps telling me this isn’t right. Whatever happened last night, there has to be a reason I don’t remember it. And Abaddon’s subsequent behavior isn’t helping his case, no matter how sweet and docile he can be when he wants to.
“My love,” he calls, “would you like me to have the servants pack your bags for our trip?”
I roll out of bed, silently praising Shasta for her miraculous abilities. I feel good as new. “No. I’ll pack them myself.”
“Are you sure?”
I head straight for the door, bypassing him without a single look in his direction. “Send a bellhop when it’s time to go.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t try to follow me.
I didn’t need to ask how many days we’d be gone. It doesn’t matter; I pack up everything of even nominal value to me. All my favorite boots, training clothes, and pretty dresses. My stationery. Some snacks. If I like it, it goes in the bags. The only things Idon’tpack are my cloak and my blades, because those are staying on my body. I act like I’m going to war, but I’m really just entering the den of lions. From one pseudo-Hell to another.
If I never come back here again, I won’t be missing anything.
With a locust towing over twice as much luggage as I arrived with, I make my way out of the gothic hotel—or whatever the place I’ve been calling home for several months actually is.
To my surprise, a beautiful chestnut Arabian is waiting for me out front.
To my chagrin, Abaddon is waiting for me, too.
I decide to focus on the positive, letting my inner child brim with joy over the horse. Because, God, how long have I wanted my own Arabian? For as long as I can remember, they’ve struck me as uniquely beautiful creatures, with their big eyes and small muzzles. Functional, too—one of the best breeds you can get for endurance.
She is simply magnificent.
“Why hello there,” I coo, walking up to my new friend. “What’s your name?”
“She’s all yours, my love. Pick whatever you’d like.”
