Page 8 of Court of Twisted Angels

Her hair falls in waves down her back, catching the dying sunlight like liquid copper. But it's her eyes that hold me transfixed - emerald green and blazing with determination as she makes her way toward the quarters where the humans are being sequestered, a water skin and bundle of food clutch to her chest.

She carries herself differently than the other humans who've come seeking wings. She doesn't look desperate to appease them, but every time a xaphan gets within arm's distance, she gracefully steps away, always keeping distance from them.

A jagged scar curves around her neck, disappearing beneath the simple cloth of her tunic - a mark that should mar her beauty but somehow only enhances it. I want to trace it, know how she got it, and I don't understand that.

Magic ripples around her in subtle waves, not the raw power of a xaphan, but something else entirely. Something wild anduntamed, like storm winds through mountain passes. It feels like she's a conduit, stored of magic and untapped.

I find myself tracking her progress across the chamber, noting how she navigates the space with practiced awareness. There are twin blades affixed to her back, and a part of me wants to see her pull them out, to see what she can unleash. Because she does not seem like any other human to me.

The curse beneath my skin pulses, but for once the pain feels distant, secondary to the pull of watching this fascinating creature. She turns slightly, and for a brief moment our eyes meet across the chamber. No fear, no submission - just pure, unwavering intensity that sends an unexpected jolt through my entire being.

And then she is gone, and I am stuck, stunned, as I wonder what the fuck just happened.

5

KYRIE

The arena's stone walls tower above me, ancient runes etched into their weathered surface pulsing with an ethereal blue glow. Throngs of competitors crowd the entrance courtyard, their voices echoing off the high ceiling in a cacophony of different languages and dialects. The scent of incense and magic hangs thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of ceremonial weapons.

I grip the worn leather strap of the sheath slung across my back, weaving through clusters of humans and xaphan alike. The latter are impossible to miss - their wings folded against their backs in various shades of gray and white, some speckled like common pigeons while others gleam with pristine perfection. A few lower-ranked xaphan hover near the ceiling, their wings stirring the banners that hang from iron brackets.

My scarred neck tingles as I pass beneath them. Every instinct screams to keep my head down, to blend into the shadows like I learned growing up in the outskirts. But I force myself to stand tall. I didn't come this far to cower now.

I do everything I can to stay out of their reach, though. I originally didn't want to leave the room after I ventured out forfood - I have no option but to eat theirs - but the room was empty once I was finished eating and my curiosity got the better of me. So, I decided to size up my conversation.

A gust of wind sends the banners snapping, and I stumble forward, colliding with what feels like a wall of solid muscle. My hands press against a chest covered in a fine silk tunic, and I freeze. Looking up, my breath catches in my throat.

Ice-blue eyes pierce into mine, set in a face that could have been carved from marble. His wings, pure white and massive, arch above his broad shoulders. Not a single feather bears even a hint of color or pattern - the mark of xaphan nobility.

"Watch where you're going, human." His voice carries the cultured accent of New Solas' upper districts, but he doesn't look at me with disdain. He looks at me with…curiosity.

My fingers curl against his chest before I snatch them back. The scar on my neck burns with phantom pain, memories of another xaphan's cruel touch flooding back. But I force my chin up, meeting that frozen gaze.

"Maybe you should watch where you're standing."

His lips curve into something between a smile that knocks the breath out of me. The temperature around us seems to drop several degrees, magic crackling in the air.

"Interesting. Most humans would be begging for forgiveness by now." He takes a calculated step forward, those pristine wings casting me in shadow, and I don't dare move. I don't want him to see how uncomfortable it makes me. "I am Azrael, one of the trial trainers. And you are?"

My heart hammers against my ribs. A trainer? Of all the xaphan to literally run into... But there's something else in his gaze beyond the expected disdain - a flash of intrigue that makes my skin prickle.

"Kyrie," I manage, forcing my voice steady despite the way my scar throbs with each pulse of magic emanating from him.

"A lovely name." He circles me slowly, his boots silent on the stone floor. "It suits me."

A few nearby competitors edge away, creating a bubble of space around us. The incense smoke curls between us like living tendrils.

"Thank you," I breathe.

"You know…" He muses, with that same smile that has my heart stuttering. "I could show you the training grounds." His words carry a dangerous sort of charm. "The meditation chambers. The elemental focuses. Things most candidates never see before they..." He trails off meaningfully.

Die, I finish silently. Before they die in horrible ways for xaphan entertainment.

But access to restricted areas? Knowledge other competitors won't have? The strategic part of my brain latches onto the opportunity, even as every instinct screams to run.

"Why would you offer that?" I ask, watching him carefully.

"Let's call it... professional curiosity." His wings shift, catching the light from the glowing runes. "I find myself intrigued by a human who shows such..." His eyes rake over me. "Spirit."

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