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Oh, yes! Hear you. See you. From the trembling wrack in your fingertips to the terror in your eyes. Stupid girl, he’s been listening this whole time. I’ve only showed him how little you care about my plans for him, no matter how cruel and terrible.
“I never said—” My hands were in fists, desperate to tear apart this void and see through to the other side.
Don’t retreat now, Huntress. It’s not becoming of your title.
“Azriel, if you can hear me, don’t listen to a thing she says. You know me, you know my heart—”
Goodbye, little one. And remember, a prison is still a prison, no matter who holds the keys.
“Azriel!” I shouted but was only answered by the echoes of my cries. She was gone, he was gone, and I was left feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.
“What have I done?” My voice whispered into the abyss of my nightmares.
What have you done?The darkness whispered back.
18
There were toomany people in this room.
Wings of every color shuffled by, pacing back and forth in the small sanctuary the Grandmaster had called us to. Members of the council were here, along with a few Dishonored and other watchers who decided to attend the emergency meeting.
My face was still damp with tears and sweat. Every time I wiped my cheeks, more would form to take their place on my skin, inevitably maintaining the wetness under my eyes. Loren stood by my side as I sat in a small chair in the center of the room, keeping a firm hand over my shoulder. He had found me after the dream, frazzled and disoriented. The panic in my heart lashed out, wild and untamed, to anyone who came close.
I wanted to hurt something, someone, anything. Was this the blessing the gods gave their chosen assassin? The raw temper of a killer ready to deliver death at any sign of injustice? I believed it a curse to be controlled by anything, including my emotions, but my exhausted soul had no strength left to fight back. So, I brooded, and waited, and watched as the rest of the world tried to get their shit together—biding time so I could slowly gather my own sense back to its former level.
“Grandmaster, we cannot leave Azriel to get his wings torn off by the demon in the mountains. He is one of our own!” A voice of reason asserted above the dull roar.
“And how do you suppose we stop this, Roman? You know Adzehate has wards around the mountain. Just because her soul is imprisoned there doesn’t mean her power is any weaker. We’d burn to ashes before we even crossed the threshold,” another watcher replied. He also made a valid point. There was only one way in and one way out, as far as I knew—the hidden cave which lay at the bottom of a stairwell, which led to the throne room itself. There was no way to enter without the queen’s notice.
“Then let the Dishonored return to West Mirth. She can’t keep us out. We were her runners at one time, after all,” a different voice spoke now. Bodies parted to allow a mortal man through the crowd of feathers and skin, and he crossed his arms as he waited for a better suggestion. I wiped my face a final time with the sleeve of my wool robe, feeling a bit ridiculous sitting here with blood shot eyes and damp cheeks. I would never gain their respect looking like the wreck I was.
“He’s right,” I said, finding my voice at last. Every eye, both man and divine, turned their attention to me. “If there are wards around the mountain then sending any watcher is out of the question. Unless…” A thought sparked without warning in my mind, drifting off my tongue before I had a chance to think it through.
“Unless what?” Roman asked, standing across from me now. He was the one Azriel had messaged in some telepathic, special watcher connection. I remembered him faintly, murky visions of dark green haunted the thin space of memory after he found me. His wings were now clear as a northern night sky, a forest green to contrast the gilded iris in his eyes. I didn’t remember much from the flight back to Estelles, but I recalled the colors. It seemed like the more time I spent with these winged creatures, the more my color pallet expanded.
“Unless we don’t go through the mountain.” I turned my face to look up at Loren, who seemed to be realizing the same thing. “There is a breach in the granite in a nearby cliffside next to West Mirth, one of the original tunnels used ages ago for training and has since been long forgotten. But it tunnels far from the base of the mountain, and I’m positive it exceeds the boundaries and, therefore, the wards.”
“Who’s to say the wards don’t extend through the rock and sediment?” Yet another watcher challenged, stepping forward in the circle surrounding me, and I suddenly felt very suffocated by the feathered confinement.
“Scared, Warren?” Roman jested at the man, his chin raised slightly higher than before. “If you don’t want to risk it, fine. But Azriel is my friend and my brother. We were both born of Relios, and neither of us back down from a fight. If it’s battle Adzehate desires, she’ll get it from the Watchers of War themselves.”
“No.” A familiar voice cracked loudly behind the sea of men. The entire room parted at the sound, revealing the cloaked figure of the Grandmaster. His black wings stretched high above him in a show of grandeur.
“No?” I asked, unable to hide the way my voice climbed an octave at the audacity.
“No, Arya. No one will be leaving Estelles, neither man nor watcher.”
I stood from my chair, making another harsh sound as it pushed against the back of my knees. The grandmaster raised his brows slightly, the strongest reaction I’d been able to pull from him. “With all due respect, sir, this is not your call.”
Murmurs filled the air and carried added weight to the already building tension between us. The council leader was nearly twenty paces from where I stood, swallowing a massive gulp of air.
“I’ve tolerated your insolence so far, Huntress, and perhaps it was wrong of me. But I am still the Grandmaster of my watchers, and you will not use that tone with me.” His voice was chastising. The tone familiar, one I recalled vividly from my time under the mountain. Hot blood rushed to my face as my anger boiled to the surface.
“Why should I? What have you done for me that you deserve my respect? I’ve served many who give themselves fancy titles and demand gratitude along with them. You are no different just because you have wings and call yourself divine.” I spat the words, covering the mumbles of the crowd with the nerve of my convictions.
“Arya…” Loren whispered behind me in warning. I held my hand up to silence him and stepped closer to the Grandmaster, closing the distance between us. He only watched me, letting me voice my opinions in silent invitation.
“You claim to be the leader of the watchers, but what has your kind done in the last hundred years? Adzehate has reigned from her stone prison for a century, and you’ve done nothing to stop her, to prevent her darkness from affecting every soul in this realm.” I ceased my pacing within a few yards of his position, and the crowd around us retreated to the shadowed places of the room. I liked it this way—my anger had room to breathe.
