Page 39 of Court of Twisted Angels

Gavreel couldn't find them, though. Even with the map. The best I could do is try to use my magic to push them to Kyrie today - well, that was the plan before she found out about my betrayal.

I did mean it when I said I didn't think the map would help her. It's a massive tower, and there were no secrets there that the map could have told her.

But I still know I fucked up.

I should have told her I saw the map. I should have told her why I needed those gemstones. I should have done something besides lie and manipulate her but just like she didn't trust me - evident by the way she hid the map - I don't know how to trust anyone but myself.

We are both out here fighting for our families and we couldn't expect the other to give up their cause. So we gave each other no option.

And I hate myself a little bit for it.

If I could have taken her from the trials, I would have just gotten her mother's medicine. But she can't leave once she enters unless she wins or dies. And I really do need those gemstones.

There are so many ways I could have gone about this better. But I didn't. Instead, I'm stuck here with my mistakes.

The wind whips through my hair as I stand at the observation platform, my wings pulled tight against my back. In front of me, the massive tower stretches up, and I have to crane my head back to watch as contestants grapple, being thrown to the ground by the magic, the poisonous air, gravity, and each other

My hands grip the railing, knuckles white. My little bird moves with surprising grace through the storm-wracked arena, dodging debris and magical projectiles. She's lasted longer than most humans, determination evident in every calculated movement.

But that luck runs out. The same boy from the second trials grabs her, grappling with her, and when she tries to fight back, she is blasted away from his body - and sent falling off the tower.

My body moves before my mind processes what I'm doing. Wings snap open, magic surging through my veins as I dive from the platform. The wind tears at my clothes, but I cut through it, streamlining my descent. Council rules and appearances be damned.

She's falling, tumbling through the air. Her eyes are closed, squeezed shut, and I already know it's not out of fear of death. It's the disappointment that she did not finish, that she did not save her mother.

I reach for her, magic crackling around us as I break through the trial's protective wards. The impact of catching her sends us spinning, but I wrap my wings around us both, creating a cocoonof protection as we hurtle toward the ground. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, face pressed against my chest.

"I've got you, little bird," I growl, pulling up hard, wings straining against the magical storm still raging around us.

Her body feels too light, too fragile in my arms as I land hard on the arena floor. The magical storm still rages overhead, but I curve my wings to create a shield against the biting wind and crackling energy.

"Kyrie." I brush matted hair from her face. Blood trickles from a gash above her temple, and her skin holds a gray pallor that turns my insides to ice. Her chest barely moves - each shallow breath a desperate fight.

Magic pulses through my hands as I scan her injuries. Internal bleeding. Cracked ribs. The poisoned air has gotten to her and barbs from the wind traps have left angry purple welts across her exposed skin. But worst of all, I can practically feel her life slipping away, growing dimmer by the second.

"Don't you dare." My voice comes out rough, primal. I press my palm to her chest, channeling healing energy into her broken body. But it's not enough. The trial's magic interferes, pushing back against my attempts to save her.

Her eyelids flutter, revealing a sliver of green. "Az..." The word comes out as barely a whisper.

"Save your strength." I cradle her closer, my wings tightening around us both. The conduit on her palm sparks weakly, its magic nearly depleted. She'd pushed herself too hard, used too much power trying to survive this cursed trial.

Another scan shows her heart rate slowing. No. Terror claws at my chest - an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation. I can't lose her. Not like this. Not to these barbaric games my people created for their own twisted entertainment.

I press my forehead to hers, pouring more magic into her failing body. The effort makes my vision blur, but I don't stop.Her skin feels cold against mine, her breathing growing more labored with each passing second.

"Stay with me, little bird." My words come out as a plea rather than a command. "You're stronger than this. Fight."

But her only response is the weakening flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers.

I gather her limp form closer, wings snapping open as I launch us into the air. The closest temple lies north of the arena, its golden spires piercing the clouds. But I'll never make it. Every beat of my wings sends pain shooting through my shoulders - I've drained too much power trying to heal her.

The wind fights me as I climb higher, Kyrie's breathing growing shallower against my chest. Her skin has taken on an ashen hue, life force flickering like a dying ember.

I look out among the crowd, and relief hits me when I see the robes of someone who can save her. I land hard just in front of the spectators, but I don't care about any of them but one.

"Nashai!" My voice is panicked as I stare at the robed woman. "I need your help."

The ancient Praexa stands, her three sets of golden wings casting dancing light across the stone walls. Her white robes ripple with contained power, eyes blazing as she takes in the scene before her.

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