Page 38 of Wicked Angel
I met her gaze steadily. “I understand. And I'll do it.”
“Ariella—” Levi began, but I cut him off.
“We need them, Levi. If reliving that day is the price for their help, then I'll pay it.” I turned back to Kadriel and Maeve. “What do I need to do?”
Kadriel seemed to approve of my decision, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. “Follow Maeve. She'll prepare you for the trial.”
Maeve held out her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I took it. Her skin was cool and dry, but I could feel the power thrumming beneath its paper-thin surface.
“The rest of us will join shortly,” Kadriel said, rising from her chair. “This is not a spectacle to be witnessed lightly.”
Maeve led me from the room and down a winding corridor that descended deeper into the mountain. Levi followed close behind, his disapproval radiating from him in waves, but he didn't try to stop me again. After several minutes, we reached a small, circular chamber lit by seven floating crystals that cast prismatic light across the polished stone walls.
In the center of the room was a shallow basin carved directly into the floor, filled with what looked like clear water but reflected no light or image. Around the basin's edge were strange symbols etched into the stone—not angelic script, but something older, more primal.
“The Reflecting Pool,” Maeve explained, releasing my hand. “It shows truth as it was, not as we remember it or wish it to be.”
I stared at the pool, apprehension building in my chest. “Will it hurt?”
“Not physically,” she said. “But memories often carry their own kind of pain.”
The chamber door opened again, and Kadriel entered, followed by several other angels. They positioned themselves around the room, their faces solemn and watchful. This, I realized, was to be a public trial—my worst moment laid bare before strangers.
Maeve moved to the edge of the pool and gestured for me to join her. “Remove your shoes and step into the water,” she instructed.
I did as she asked, slipping my boots off and stepping gingerly into the pool. The liquid—if it was liquid at all—felt neither warm nor cold, but somehow alive, tingling against my skin.
“Close your eyes,” Maeve said, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Think back to that day. See it in your mind. The moment everything changed.”
I closed my eyes, letting the memory surface—the trap, the betrayal, the searing pain as my wings were severed, the terror and determination as I fled with the dagger.
“Are you ready?” Maeve asked, her voice seeming to come from very far away.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, meeting Maeve's sightless gaze. “I'm ready.”
16
The waterbeneath my feet began to glow, shifting from clear to a luminous silver that crept up my ankles like living mercury. Maeve's chanting grew louder, her words taking on a hypnotic rhythm that seemed to resonate with something deep inside me.
“Remember,” she urged, her blind eyes fixed on me with uncanny precision. “Return to that day. See it as it was. Feel it as it was.”
The chamber around me started to blur, the faces of the watching angels melting into streaks of light. Levi's voice called my name, sharp with concern, but it sounded distant, as if he were speaking to me from across a vast canyon.
Then the world dissolved completely, and I was falling?—
—into memory.
* * *
Sunlight glintedoff polished armor as our squadron assembled at the edge of Elysium. I stood at attention, pride swelling in my chest as I took my place among the twelve chosen for this mission. Two archangels, four Seraphim, and six Cherubin including myself. My wings rustled with nervous energy, the feathers shifting like whispers against my back.
“Ariella!” Rachel's voice, bright with excitement, reached me from a few paces away. Her red hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Can you believe we made it? Our first real mission!”
I smiled, trying to appear more confident than I felt. I hadn’t been chosen outright. I was actually a replacement. “It’s surreal.”
Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Just think—when we get back, everyone will be talking about us. The youngest Cherubin ever sent to track down a traitor.”
“If we succeed,” I reminded her, though I couldn't suppress my own thrill at the thought.
