Fearless (11 page)

Slowly the faces below become clearer, and that look in their eyes I've been trying to decipher finally dawns on me. The knowledge of what it is makes me go weak at the knees.

Thinking I might faint, Luca swings his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.

The crowd's cheers incredibly grow louder, and that look in their eyes intensifies, which only makes me feel sicker in the stomach.

I hate Luca for putting me in this position, even more than I did already. What am I supposed to do now? But this … this shouldn't make any difference. I don't have any obligation to these people. It won't change my plans. I won't let it.

I raise my hand, wave and even offer a small smile, something I never dreamed I would do.

But how can I ignore that look in their eyes?

That poignant, pitiful expression of hope.

11

Jordan

It's just as well I don't have far to drive. In my mood I'd probably take a sharp bend too fast, hit a few trees before soaring into open air to crash head first into rocks on the valley floor.

Probably explode.

Nothing left to bury.

Shit!
I gotta get myself outta this dark space my head is in.

‘Jordy, are you OK?'

For a moment it's Ebony I'm hearing and my heart flips over. She's the only one who knows how to pull me outta this hole. She has the right words, the perfect touch. Her warm hand on my shoulder always calms me. Those violet eyes hold so much compassion for me. And the way she says my name, shortened like a pet name for a puppy, is so damn cute.

‘Jordan?'

I turn towards the voice, a heartbeat away from whispering her name. It's lucky I don't, cos it's not Ebony in my passenger seat like so many times before. This is
Amber
. And Luca didn't kidnap
Amber
. No, Luca took
my
girl, the girl I love.

‘Drop me off here, thanks,' Amber snaps.

I glance out of my side window into what is arguably the darkest stretch of road between the monastery and Thane's place.

‘Stop the car!'

I pull up on the shoulder as soon as I find a strip wide enough. ‘What's your problem?'

She's in a hurry to get out. ‘Unlock my door.' Her voice could be a sword. It sounds so deadly she could kill me with it. ‘Do it, Jordan,
now
.'

‘Not until you tell me why you want to walk on this deserted mountain road in the middle of the night, alone.'

There's something fierce in her eyes when she turns them on me. A flash of awareness ripples through my gut.

‘Of course I don't
want
to walk out there in the dark alone, but it beats being in this car with you ignoring me or lamenting that I'm not the one who got kidnapped!'

‘I didn't say that!'

‘Not aloud!'

What do I say to that? Admit it and hurt her more?

‘It's in your eyes, Jordan, every time you look
through
me. And I can't stand to be near you when you're wishing it were me in her place.'

‘Amber, no –'

‘I love her too, but I wouldn't want you to take her place. You really are a moron.'

Amber has to know I don't really mean it. ‘I miss her
so
much, Amber, you've got no idea.'

‘So much that you'd rather the Prince of Darkness had taken me in her place.'

‘Don't say that. I would never want that for you.'

Tears are swimming in her eyes as I take her hands in mine. ‘Please believe me, Amber, no matter what fleeting signs you might read on my face, I DO NOT want you harmed by
anyone
or
anything
.'

She hiccups and scrunches her nose. I try not to smile at how cute she looks when she does that. She sniffs again. ‘Do you mean that? I mean, really,
really
mean that?'

I glance up at the stars to gather the strength I need to convince her I'm telling the truth. Then I collect her tear-soaked face in my hands and look into her eyes. ‘As God is my witness, Amber Lang, I swear to you that I would kill anyone who even thought about hurting you.'

12

Nathaneal

Twelve Sentinels sit at one time, with each Sentinel serving between seven years and a hundred. It's a sacrifice and an honour to serve the High King on such a personal level, to deal out his directives, to be the instigators of his law and, along with the Archangels, to protect him.

Avena has no higher honour.

We fly night and day across three provinces, past the River of Twin Tunnels and over the Sea of Seven Winds, before reaching the shimmering white sands of Empyrean Island. Michael, Shae and I make our way on foot along a path that cuts through thick tropical growth that resembles a jungle more than a forest.

Since Michael has been here before, he leads the way. Empyrean was the best place for him after Luca slaughtered his wife, Thereziel, in a vindictive rage, destroying her body and soul. After three years in the Temple, meditating, studying and writing chronicles, he was able to return to his life again.

We reach a vast field covered in wild flowers. Glancing at each other in silent signal, we discharge our wings and fly low over the carpet of silk and velvet. Ebony would be in
awe seeing this, running her fingers over the soft furry petals as I am now. One day I will bring her here.

‘I have heard that Peridis is like this,' Shae remarks.

‘Perhaps you should ask our High King yourself,' Michael suggests teasingly.

‘I don't think so, in case he decides to send me there!' she jokes, but her voice turns serious as she shifts her gaze to me. ‘I can't risk not being there when you bring Ebrielle home.'

‘You will be there. And, Shae, the only name she knows is Ebony. It's her identity and we can't take that from her, not without her permission.'

She nods, and as the landscape grows rocky, we land on terra firma, finding we're closer than we thought. We tilt our heads back and look up at Avena's highest mountain, where, at the summit, the High King's Temple sits permanently concealed in mist.

Michael leads the way through a cleverly concealed path between rocks to stairs that will take us to the walled city.

‘Any thoughts before we start the climb?' I ask.

Shae frowns, purses her lips. ‘How many steps are there? I can only see the first three hundred and six.'

‘In all the time I spent here,' Michael says as we start to climb, ‘I never thought to count them.'

‘Weren't you even curious?'

He shrugs. ‘Not really, Shae. I didn't have the mind for counting stairs in those days.'

I close my eyes as a wave of grief flows out of him and slams into me, which, coupled with my own despair, takes me to a point of bleakness I can barely fathom. I double
over, my hands on my thighs, unable to go on.

‘Forgive me, cousin,' he says, rushing to my side. ‘You didn't need that.'

‘It's all right, Michael. It's passing.' He helps me straighten up and I take a deep breath.

‘Sometimes it feels like only yesterday that I lost Theze.'

‘I wish I had known her.'

Losing a partner is rare among angels. The emptiness left behind can devastate the one who remains, the heartache can consume them, rip the angel apart like an incendiary exploding on the inside. The trigger might be a memory,
a fa
miliar scent, the voice they hear in their dreams.

For me, without Ebony, it feels as if there are a million triggers: the memory of her face as the gates thundered down between us, the way her eyes clung to mine when Michael pulled me from her arms at my arrest; I miss her gentle, selfless ways, her struggle to rekindle her angelic ancestry, the touch of her fingers on my face. How can I go on without her?

The answer is simple.

I can't.

‘Are we ready to begin?' Shae asks, practically jumping up and down. Her excitement at being this near the source of our power, the creator of everything, with the p
ossibility of
freeing her sister becoming reality, catches Michael and me by surprise. And as joy is meant to do, it spreads into us and lifts us both to a level where we can function.

Many stairs later, but with many more to go, we enter thickening mist. Shae pauses, stretches, arching her back.
Her enthusiasm waning slightly, she asks Michael, ‘Are you sure we can't fly?'

‘Not if you wish to enter the city.'

‘So for those that come here, this is like a pilgrimage,' she ponders, ‘for what more can one do when climbing stairs shrouded in mist except to think, reflect and wonder.'

We reach a platform with a railing and a bench. But no one is interested in the view, no matter how astonishing, and there is no time to rest. We push on, and several hundred steps later we reach the summit, where a colossal white wall protects the city, stretching so high its top fuses into the mist.

‘They will be expecting us,' Michael says.

‘They?' Shae asks.

Walking to the gates, he peers over his shoulder. ‘The Sentinels. They will know by now that we're here and what we're coming for. But we'll still need their approval for an audience with the High King.'

An Archangel wearing a long white dress and matching cloak with a deep hood opens a door in the towering gate; her graceful, feathered wings sway slightly behind her. She greets us with a warm smile from pale lips, leaning down t
o k
iss the air either side of each of our faces. ‘Welcome to Empyrean.' Her voice is low and strong, her whitish skin flawless, her eyes amethyst in colour. ‘I am Teeliah, and I'm to escort you directly to the Temple. Please follow me.'

Teeliah slips into the air on silent wingbeats, glancing back once to ensure we're following.

There is an aura of serenity in this place. It's tangible even from this height. And by the peaceful look on Shae's face,
and ease by which she's moving, she's feeling it too.

Following Teeliah, we touch down on the Temple's front steps, moving inside through a spectacular glass atrium where plants thrive alongside a waterfall and a shimmering stream leaping with colourful fish. A corridor takes us to an area called the Centre, where a lift waits for us with its doors open. Teeliah takes us up to level twelve but doesn't get out. ‘Someone will come for you soon.'

We thank her and the doors close behind us.

Only a moment passes before footsteps approach and another Archangel in similar dress greets us and leads us to the Sentinels' chamber. I can see that she is talking with Michael and Shae, but all I can hear is the sound of my heart pounding. This is it. I have to convince them to help us. I cannot fail Ebony at this first hurdle.

The room is round. The Sentinels – six male, six female – sit up on a raised semicircular platform, with Prince Cassiel from the Order of Powers at the centre, ready to judge whether our petition to see the High King is deserving.

It's all up to them.

Michael and Shae stand on either side of me. We are brief, to the point, as practised on our way here, taking turns explaining our cause, how important it is to retrieve Ebony and the situation that will occur should we not be successful. How Luca will create an unbeatable army to invade Earth, and how, in our capacity as Guardians, we will have failed.

The Sentinels don't ask us to leave. They're quiet for a few moments, undoubtedly conversing through a private mind-link.

Prince Cassiel stands. My mouth goes dry. This is it. He says, ‘Prince Nathaneal, Prince Michael and my lady Shaephira, you make a strong case. You have our unanimous support.'

They will let us meet the High King.

Shae squeals, gripping my arm, and her joy slams into me, but Prince Cassiel has more to say, so I keep my emotions in check to listen to his instructions with a clear head.

‘You are about to meet our glorious High King,' he says. ‘Forget everything you know about him, all that you have been taught or told or imagined. Control your temper in his presence and do not waste his time. There will be no need for lengthy explanations. He knows your needs before you enter his chamber, your questions before you ask them, the limitations you yourself are unaware of having. Our High King is powerful beyond what we are capable of understanding.'

The other Sentinels nod when he says this. But telling me the High King is powerful beyond comprehension doesn't frighten me, but gives me hope.

‘He could squash you like an insect,' Prince Cassiel says. ‘He could burn you where you stand, and when he is glowing, whatever you do, don't look into his eyes.'

13

Ebony

On my second night in Skade I dream of Prince Luca dancing a Viennese waltz with me in an ivory ballroom with crystal chandeliers, white candles in sconces over tables and glass hurricane lamps on marble and gold stands. The room is brimming with angels in fancy dress, costumes from Earth's various historical eras, except everyone is wearing
a ma
sk resembling an animal, bird or reptile. Prince Luca's mask is a lion's head. Mine is a peacock.

It's like something out of a fairy tale but with a dark twist.

Prince Luca is so tall I have to lean my head back to see his face. The dream-me wonders if he's always this tall. His eyes are mesmerising, glowing a deep golden yellow. He twirls me confidently around the polished floor, clearly an experienced dancer. He picks up the pace, spinning me faster. The other dancers step back, making room for us. They nod and smile at their king as we waltz past them. Thoughtfully today Luca is wearing black gloves that stop his heat from burning my hands. He makes a joke about it and I laugh. He is charismatic and charming.

The dream-me feels safe in his arms. But the sleeping-me
knows something isn't right and squirms uncomfortably between the sheets. A red and fuzzy edge develops around my vision. It's the haze I get when I'm angry. But I'm not angry. Well, not the dream-me. I'm dancing to perfectly pitched violins, turning left and right as Luca spins me around the dance floor at an astonishing pace, almost like we're flying.