Page 46 of Court of Twisted Angels

"We did." His jaw tightens. "Once."

A servant glides in, her feet barely touching the ground as she carries a tray of healing potions. The bottles glow with swirling colors - deep purple for pain, bright blue for tissue regeneration, golden for strength restoration. Another reminder of the vast gulf between my world and his.

I force myself to swallow the bitter concoctions, each one probably worth more than my family's entire house. The thought of home sends a familiar ache through my chest, sharper than any physical pain.

"Since you are up and feeling better…" Azrael wraps his arms around me from behind. "Do you want to meet my father?"

I spin around, looking up at him. "Will he be up for it?"

He nods. "He's doing okay today."

I slide a hand up his chest, leaning into him. "Then I would love to."

The walk to Azrael's father's chambers feels endless. Enchanted torches line the hallway, their blue flames casting dancing shadows on the marble floors. With each step, the air grows heavier, thick with the stench of decay that even the strongest cleansing spells can't mask.

"Father." Azrael's voice loses its usual edge as we enter. "I've brought someone to meet you."

Lord Lucian lies on a massive bed draped in black silk. His wings - once magnificent according to the portraits I passed - now hang in tatters, the feathers grayed and brittle. Dark veins spider across his pale skin, pulsing with sickly green light. The curse's manifestation.

"Forgive me for not rising." His words come out as a whisper. "The magic drains more of me each day."

I clutch the doorframe as understanding slams into me. The map Azrael stole from me during the wing trial, the gemstone he took from me - they weren't acts of cruelty. They were of desperation. I thought I'd already come to terms with it but it hit me so acutely now.

"You'd do anything for your family." My voice shakes. "Just like me."

Azrael nods, his shoulders rigid. "But I would never endanger you. I hope you know that, Kyrie. I did what I did for my family - but also because I knew that it wouldn't bring you harm."

Lord Lucian coughs, and the sound echoes with supernatural resonance. The shadows in the room writhe and twist, responding to his pain. A healing priestess hurries forward with glowing potions, but he waves her away.

"My son carries a heavy burden." Lord Lucian's eyes find mine, still sharp despite his deteriorating body. "Our bloodlinefades. The curse ensures each generation suffers more than the last."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, though the words feel inadequate. "I didn't understand before."

He shifts, gesturing as best he can to the chair beside his bed. "You couldn't have." He gives me a small smile. "Now, come. Sit. I want to get to know you."

We talk for an hour before he gets too tired to keep going. Once he starts to fall asleep, Azrael helps me from my chair, giving his father one last look as we walk away.

"You know," I say as we start down the hallway. "I would have helped you if I had known the extent of it."

He sighs, looking down at me. "I know I should've gone about it differently. It was more of a desperation thing."

"I get that." I twine my hand with his. "So did the stones work?"

He shrugs. "I haven't been able to perform the ceremony yet."

I stop moving. "But why not?"

"Because I need you to do it." I raise my brows. "My magic is split between us now, so I need us both."

I start tugging at him immediately. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" He pulls me down a corridor I passed because truthfully I have no clue where I'm going. "Let's do it now."

He stops, cupping my face. "You feel well enough?"

"I feel fine."

Azrael's eyes evaluate me as if looking for a lie. Then he nods. "Okay. Then let's go."

Azrael's studysmells of ancient parchment and burning sage. Crystalline shelves stretch to the ceiling, filled with artifacts that pulse with otherworldly energy. The gemstones we collected rest on a pedestal of black marble, their surfaces catching the light from enchanted candles that float overhead.

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