“You say it like it’s such an easy thing to do.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I pressed my lips to hers to stop her. “You command the power of Angels, Ophelia,” I whispered, against her lips. “There’s nothing simple about it, or you.”
She looped her arms around my neck, kissing me with fervor now. Spirits, was this all over? Could we go back to the inn and lock ourselves in our room for days?
Too soon, she was pulling away. “Come on,” she said and slipped her hand into mine. Right…we still had Brystin and the emblems to deal with.
When we traipsed back to the group, Lancaster was saying, “It’s done. She should wake soon.”
Sure enough, the wound on Mila’s head was sealed, the blood crusting her platinum hair dried. Malakai’s chest—still entirely bare and streaked with blood—sagged. Though his eyes were locked on Mila, he was clearly not speaking to her when he said, “You haven’t even asked about the emblem.”
“Because I already know you have it.” I looked down at Ophelia, but she continued, “Can I see it?”
“Here.” Vale’s voice drifted over the group as she pulled out the orb—the glass shining like a moon plucked from among the stars—and passed it to Ophelia.
In her hands, it lit up. Images swirled within, obscure and storm-drenched.
But Ophelia frowned at it. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the right one,” Malakai said confidently. “I could feel it.”
Ophelia nodded. “It is, but…” She rolled the orb between her hands.
“It’s not burning you?” I asked. Ophelia looked at me, confusion in her magenta eyes. Squeezing her hip, I added, “That might be a good thing.”
“All the other ones burned,” she mused, attention dropping back to the emblem, a token of Xenique’s power held in the palm of her hand. Sapphire nudged her, and Ophelia looked up at her pegasus. “Any ideas, girl?”
She handed it to me, and CK and I observed the thing, dumbfounded given that neither of us could feel the magic like Ophelia and Malakai could. It seemed laced with ether of some kind, but truly, I would never have been able to identify it.
I rolled the orb between my hands, a ridge in the otherwise-flawless glass scraping against my palm. “What’s this?”
Ophelia leaned closer, casting a small bud of Angellight between us. An indentation cut into the surface, etched and worn by the centuries, but still clearly there.
“It looks like a crescent moon,” she said, brow furrowed.
“The symbol of Xenique,” CK said simply.
“Yes, but…” Ophelia fingered the carving. Then, her gaze snapped to her sister. “Jezzie…give me your necklace.”
“What?” Jezebel’s hand flew to the chain around her neck—where a crescent moon pendant hung inlaid with an amethyst. A gift Erista had given her when their relationship was still a secret.
Erista gasped. “By the Angel!” Her sandaled feet flew over the dunes as she circled the group, stopping at Ophelia’s side to trace the symbol in the glass
“Can someone please explain?” Lyria huffed, kicking the sand.
“I think baby Alabath’s necklace fits into this carving on the orb like a puzzle piece,” I guessed.
“Why, though?” Jezebel asked, unclasping her necklace.
“Because this emblem—out of all of them—is most precious,” Ophelia said, eyes locked with her sister. “It’s a tie to the Angelsand to the gods.”
“The gods?” Santorina asked.
Erista said, “My father has always claimed we had items that belonged to Xenique in our family trove. That’s where I took the necklace from. And perhaps…” She looked at Jezebel, hope shining in her eyes. “Perhaps it was always meant to belong to you, J. That’s why I gravitated toward it.”
Jezebel scoffed, crossing her arms and looking to the Gates, still shining gold beneath the night sky. Something about theSoulguider’s words clearly bothered her, but Ophelia frowned and mouthedlaterto me.
“That doesn’t explain the gods,” I interjected, failing to keep up.
