“I figured as much.” I peeked through the crack in the door one more time, but Ophelia was still. Rubbing my hand against my sternum, I asked, “What does it mean?”
“It means she woke something much more powerful than we’d anticipated.” His voice was as harsh as the lightning strike Ophelia had conjured, purple eyes darkening. “I believe it’s because the blood of the demigoddess occurs naturally within her and mixed with Angelblood organically. Perhaps because thefel strella mythosamplifies that magic along with her ability to bring myths to life. Thorn felt it coming and reached into her mind to unlock the final power when we returned. But Ophelia is…well, we will see exactly how this plays out when she finally wakes.”
“And how do you plan on getting her stable enough to wake?” She could barely keep water down, couldn’t roll over withoutscreaming in agony and tearing open the wounds along her back. My eyes dropped to my hands, the phantom stickiness of her blood coating my skin, though I’d scrubbed it raw.
Damien arched a brow. “That is my job?”
“This entire thing is your fault, Damien! She is your chosen—she only carries that prophecy because of you.” I stepped up to the Prime Warrior, his power burning into me. “Do not fucking fail her!”
Damien’s chest rose on a harsh breath, wings ruffling. I didn’t know what nerve those words struck, but he whispered, “Give me time.”
And then, as the Prime Warriors always did, Damien disappeared with no further explanation.
And I cursed the empty air before me, hoping Ophelia had time to give.
I only leftOphelia’s suite a handful of times in the first five days since we arrived in Damenal, always down to the kitchens to gather provisions then quickly back up. Though I didn’t know what one even fed someone who had recently undergone the emergence of a mythical creature within their own self.
I paused before the pantry, picking apart the scant shelves. And fuck me, I didn’t know how to make anything with such few ingredients. Cold bread it was. At least I found a few options of jams and a lemon curd Ophelia liked. Maybe that would entice her to eat.
“Where the fuck is the staff?” I grumbled to myself as I climbed the stairs back to Ophelia’s room, fresh sheets in a basket on my arm.
Originally, I’d thought Echnid had taken us to a different realm entirely when he ripped that tear in the air in the cavern, but we were absolutely in the mountains. Damenal unraveled beyond the windows, warriors hurrying through the streets beneath the gray clouds. The palace was just fuckingempty. Every room I’d looked into had a cold hearth and grate no more than ashes, beds half-made and candles down to the wick, as if they’d been left to burn.
When we’d first moved here following my imprisonment, we’d made a point to hire ample staff. To help funnel money back into Damenal’s economy. Where had they all gone?
I didn’t have time to figure it out, and I shoved down the concern as I rounded the corner to Ophelia’s corridor. I needed to focus all of my attention on helping her right now, but?—
A gold glow flooded the doorway to Ophelia’s bedchamber before I even crossed the foyer.
“By the fucking Angels,” I yelled, dumping the tray and fresh sheets on the entry table and rushing inside. Had she woken?
But it wasn’t Ophelia emitting the Angellight.
Damien stood at her bedside, purple stare trained on Ophelia’s limp form. She was sprawled on her back, her wings beneath her at an unnatural angle and hair splayed across the rumpled sheets. A swirl of powerful light concentrated in Damien’s palm as he studied her, the glow bouncing off the closed windows and marble floors.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yelled, rushing between him and Ophelia.
Damien shoved me aside. “What you asked me to do.”
And he blasted that power at Ophelia’s chest.
She gasped, her eyes flaring wide briefly as she hovered a few inches off the bed. Her chest rose and fell faster, wings beating animatedly against the sheets. Hair stuck to her neck, her armsand forehead sweat-slicked, and Damien’s light poured into her, ravaged her.
“What is it doing?” I asked. My own heart raced, my chest burning. The temperature in the room spiked, as hot as Ophelia’s skin had been since we got here.
“Healing her, hopefully,” Damien ground out. His face was screwed up in concentration, the scar across one side contorted and pale in the echo of his light.
“Angellight heals,” I murmured. In the past, Ophelia had been able to heal her own injuries with the power, and Damien’s was vast.
The Prime Warrior grunted, “Yes, and more.”
“What do you mean?” My gaze flicked between them as that power fed and fed, her body greedy for it.
“Angellight has healing properties for mortals, but she is more than that now.” Sweat beaded along his brow, such a human bodily function it almost shocked me. “She is a seraph.”
“That’s what you keep saying, but you haven’t told me what that means!”
Damien took a breath, the stream of light pausing, the air still. Then, like a roaring wind, it crashed forward again. Gold rushed through the room. It pushed at the windows and heavy curtains, sending me stumbling back. But Ophelia’s eyes didn’t open again.
