I refused to think of Mikhail feeling pain if I left. We’d only just mated; it wasn’t like we were truly mates, the kind who’d lived together for centuries and loved one another. Or at least, not on his part. “They just walked into the gate?” I scooted closer, so that I was almost touching Ry’s legs.
He shrugged, not looking at me. That was good. “I was never close enough to see everything, but I heard that all they had to do was make their intentions known to the gate, say their name, and then touch it.”
“That’s all?” He nodded. “And smut doesn’t hurt it? Like, Mikhail said the Guides were teaching bad theory.”
“No. If a Protector who isn’t completely stainless touches it, they’d be unmade instantly. But the gate itself shouldn’t be hurt.” We were both silent for a moment, then he went on. “I would sacrifice myself to it, but I’m not powerful enough to make a difference for long. I offered, but Gavriel told me I’m needed here. If I were purified, he could help me ascend, become one of the High Angeli. Then I’d be strong enough to do some real good—help power Sanctuary, or apprentice to Mikhail, or even walk into the gate and be enough of a source to keep it standing for another century.”
“Why can’t you get purified?” I moved my hands slowly, hoping he’d keep talking for just a while longer.
He pushed one robe sleeve up, his fingers moving absently on the underside of his arm. “Centuries ago, I failed my charge. I was supposed to protect a young woman, and I was afraid. I told myself I wasn’t allowed to intervene, that she had to make the choice… but she was brutally hurt and killed, while I watched like a coward. I was following the rules, but I wasn’t doing what was right. In the end, two girls were murdered, and it was my fault. I can’t forgive myself for being afraid to do what I needed to. I failed as a Protector.”
“I’ve done the same thing.” I rose, softly taking his hand in mine. Everything was ready. “You should forgive yourself. I’m sure whoever that charge was, she forgave you a long time ago. Just remember from now on,” I said, getting ready to run, “the right thing is almost always the scary thing.” Throwing him a wink, I sprinted toward the gate, not looking back when I heard him shout and fall to the floor trying to grab me.
It would have been almost impossible since I’d tied the long laces of his sandals together while he talked. He was trussed up like a Christmas goose from the knees down.
“Feather! Get back here!” he yelled. “Don’t do it!”
I stopped, only inches from the gate, and rushed to speak. I didn’t know my whole name, but I had a feeling I knew enough. To save Mikhail, and Sunny, and Righteous, and all the souls in Sanctuary who were trying to keep the balance, I had to do this.
And I could redeem myself as well. I didn’t have to be useless; I wouldn’t be. The others would nod when they passed the gate, and remember me.
“I’m Feather, named Inutilia, who lived first as Dina’s sister Tili. I’m Nothing, a Useless Scrap of the Beautiful One, Arabella, friend of Sunny, the Light of Truth, and”—my throat threatened to close up—“soulmate of Mikhail the Great-Souled, the Maker of Sanctuary.” Nothing happened, so I added, “I’m here to make a Great Sacrifice to save Sanctuary. I know I’m not purified, but I’ve been told it won’t hurt you. Can I come in?”
A bell pealed out from the gate, and then a chorus of singing, so beautiful I thought my heart might stop from the sheer glory of it. I reached one hand out and touched the golden material of the Great Gate. The feather in my nape burned white hot, but I didn’t feel physical pain, only grief that I’d never be able to see Mikhail again, or tell him how for a short time, he’d made me feel important. Vital.
Beloved.
The birthmark on my chest pulsed with an answering cold fire, and I pressed my other hand to it, wishing I had also been able to say goodbye to Rumple, wherever he was. I sent up a farewell to the void, and felt his answer. It wasn’t words, but emotions that vibrated with alarm, traveling light years to reach me, demanding an answer for what I was attempting.
Protect,I thought back at him.I have to protect all of them. I knew he’d understand.
Behind me, struggling on the floor with his laces, Righteous was shouting, “Don’t! Tili, don’t!”
But the gate was already pulling me in. I turned my head and felt a burning in my shoulder blades that rivaled the heat from the feather on my nape, and strangely, Righteous’s one in my pocket. I almost laughed when I saw what had happened. I was shining, glowing white-gold, sparkling like a strange star.
And I had wings. Little ones, made of silver feathers that matched my hair.
Righteous was almost on his feet. Somewhere down one of the corridors, Mikhail was also shouting. If I didn’t go now, I wouldn’t have the courage. “Let me in,” I whispered, and stepped into the gate, feeling as every single inch of me, every particle, was being stripped away and tossed into a maelstrom.
Every part except one feather, which floated free behind me and sailed back into Sanctuary at the last second.
And then I was gone.
CHAPTER32
Gavriel
Iflew as fast as my wings would carry me from Arabella’s room to the Maker Hall, but I couldn’t outfly my own conscience.
I had never been so angry, or so ashamed, in all my years. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I wanted to go to Earth, just so I didn’t have to meet the eyes of the others in Sanctuary. I needed to be alone with my disgrace.
But Protectors and Guides, all needing me, were everywhere. A line of them waited outside my chambers to talk about solutions. Injured Protectors wandered the hallways in search of me, begging for some of my energy, since our home was too weak to provide enough. Even the Protectors who had devoted their lives to cleaning and serving in Sanctuary were waiting, fear in their eyes as they held empty bottles of the gels that we used to clean away our smut.
They knew better than to ask Mikhail for more, after he had—from all accounts—disrobed publicly, showing them the very physical sacrifices he’d made for them all. I was so angry. I’d forbidden him to give pieces of his soul to the gate, but of course he’d needed something for the new Novices he was creating all along. Why had I never questioned that? I knew that most of the Novices were made up of the same energy that fueled the realm, but I’d never even wondered where he’d been getting the pure soul that he used in their naming marks.
I’d been willfully ignorant, wallowing in my own self-pity while my best friend literally unmade himself, one soul at a time, to keep Sanctuary going.
Everything was fucked, and it was my fault. Seraphiel had left me in charge of Sanctuary, and I had failed to care for it. Failed every one of the Protectors, every one of the Novices.
