Part Four
Echnid
Chapter Sixty-Five
Ophelia
“Gaveny?”I gasped.
The street was a mess of rushing warriors—of screams for weapons and loved ones.
But all I could focus on was the weight of the chancellor in my arms—my friend who did not deserve this, who’d been such a caring, genuine guidance—and the Angel before me whose might rippled like a roaring tide, blue ether peeling off his wings. His bow lowering after loosing that silencing shot.
No—no, he couldn’t have.
Ezalia was his Seawatcher. The ruler ofhisclan, and Gaveny had always seemed so amicable while training. A bit unpredictable, like the force of his seas thrashed beneath his skin, but he’d seemed well-intentioned andhelpful.
Yet his eyes locked on the place his arrow pierced Ezalia’s chest, and while there was maybe a hint of remorse, there was no grief. Only solitude and acceptance.
“G-Gav…” Ezalia choked out. Her eyes flared wide, and I realized this was the first time she was seeing an Angel in the flesh, the first time most warriors now frantically tearing through the night around us were.
And what a twisted irony that he’d put an arrow through her heart.
“I hoped it wouldn’t happen this way,” Gaveny told Ezalia. I didn’t know what he meant, but the look they exchanged seemed like some private conversation of clan secrets.
“What are you doing here?” I growled at the Angel, holding Ezalia closer to shield her from him.
“Little seraph,” Gaveny greeted, taking a step toward us.
“Get away.” My words were feral, animalistic. Tears poured down my cheeks, their warmth fueling me to stand against him.
“If only it were that easy,” Gaveny answered.
Before I could respond, he shot into the air, leaving a wash of ether eddying across the plaza as cool as a tide. Hunching over Ezalia’s body, I tracked his flight.
“No.”
Six more winged forms crisscrossed through the sky, leaving trails of magic in their wake. Weapons were strapped to their bodies, plates of armor glinting in the night.
Thorn and Ptholenix. Xenique and Bant. Valyrie and Damien.
They were all here, all within the city walls, which meant Xenique—Xenique whom we had trusted—had granted them permission to enter. To ravage her capital.
Gaveny flew in circles, using his influence over seas to command the water in fountains and streams. It shot through the air in spiraling torrents, bending bodies to the ground and forcing warriors to retreat behind closed doors.
The other six Angels soared through the skies, gazes intent onsomethingbelow. Something I couldn’t see.
Screams of warriors pierced my shock, and I jumped into motion.
“Ezalia?” I asked.
“Ophelia,” she barely forced out. She clung to me like I was her last breath, one hand grappling against mine.
“I’m so sorry, Ezalia,” I muttered. On my knees in the center of Xenovia, I wished I could pray to any deity for safety. What an utter devastation that they were the ones killing us in the first place.
Ezalia took a ragged breath, and every shutter seized my own lungs.
“Ophelia,” she breathed. “You are…good leader.” She squeezed my wrist with a fluttering grasp. “Your father. Proud.”
