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I glanced down at my own hands as something occurred to me: half of me was technically still Heaven-appointed.
If I’d gotten anything from that woman other than my single white wing, it was probably my healing ability. I healed quickly on my own, faster than even a regular angel—fallen or not—should.
I moved to Aria, laid my palm on her forehead, and studied it there. If only I could just coax her body to heal a little faster the same way mine did. If only I could just figure out how to get into her—
Heat seared through my palm, and I jumped, snatching my hand back so that I didn’t burn her. My angel huffed its annoyance, nudging me to place it back on. I laid my palm against my cheek first to test the heat and found it to be only warm, not hot.
Gingerly, I put my hand back. When the searing heat started this time around, I forced myself to remain seated.
A soft glow began to emanate from my palm, and I held my breath as it washed through Aria.
I was healing her.
By the time the glow died down, I was exhausted, my limbs ached, and my head was woozy. Who could have known that healing would be so draining? Neo had made it look easy.
I pulled my chair up to Aria’s bed, then set my head down next to her hip.
I was out before my next breath.
11
STRANGE FAMILY
ARIA
Sariel’s body heat seeped into my bones, rousing me from the deepest sleep I’d ever had.
I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was him that I was curled up next to. Not only was it common sense, but I recognized his scent; it enveloped me in a warm, comfortable blanket, which explained why my muscles felt like they were jello. They always were around him.
Unfortunately, the bed we were lying on might as well be made of stone, hard and uncomfortable andlumpy,for some reason. It was nothing like the bed we usually slept on. I was kind of confused by how well-rested I felt despite the shitty mattress.
“You awake?”
I frowned at Sariel’s tone, reaching for him down the bond immediately—he was frustrated and confused.
I cracked an eye open and lifted my head from his chest to peek at him through my hair. The bright lights made me squint. “Mhm. You okay?”
“Uh, no,” he said, his breath shuddering. “I just met… I just met my mother.”
That blasted away the cobwebs of sleep that still clung to the corners of my brain. I sat up abruptly, blinking down at him in shock. “What? Where? When?”
He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob. “She’s here,” he said quietly. “She’s been here all this time, apparently.”
My heart cracked at the lost look on his face, the hurt and confusion in his eyes. “Oh, Sariel,” I breathed.
He turned to me, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he stifled whatever emotion he was feeling.
“She knew who you were?” I asked.
He sucked in a shallow breath. “She’s the woman who tried to warn me that it wasn’t safe for us here. I don’t know if I told you, but I saw her again in the Queen’s Garden. She was hand-sewing something into a kerchief. She pretended she didn’t know what I was talking about and dropped the kerchief in haste to escape, but… she was stitching a pair of black wings into the fabric.”
He pulled himself up into the bed. Only then did it occur to me that we weren’t in our room at all. I looked around, confused.
“This is the infirmary,” he explained. “We’ve been here after that shit you pulled last night, which we’ll talk about later.
“Anyways, she showed up here last night, begging me to let her heal you, and I recognized her. She was a double agent, fucked Azazel, had his kid, and left him with his father because she thought he was the lesser of two evils between him and the fae. And then she came back here, got with her mate, and had a passel of kids. Twelve of them.”
I gasped. Twelve? Sariel’s expression hardened.
