Page 37 of Wicked Angel
And Levi’s mother. Beside me, he was rigid.
“She took you under her wing to keep an eye on you,” Kadriel finished grimly. “To make sure you never learned the truth. And later, when you showed promise, to groom you as an ally.”
A sickening wave of betrayal washed over me. Ylena had been more than my mentor—she had been a surrogate parent after my father's death, guiding me, shaping me. And all the while, his blood had been on her hands.
“How do you know this?” Levi asked, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the room. His voice was calm, but I could sense the tension beneath it.
Kadriel's eyes shifted to him, narrowing slightly. “Because I confronted her afterward. I suspected her involvement, and when I pressed her, she attacked me.” She gestured to her injured arm. “This was her parting gift. A permanent wound that should have killed me, but I managed to escape to Earth before she could finish the job.”
“And you've been here ever since,” I said softly. “Building the Lost Legion.”
She nodded. “At first, it was just survival. But over time, others joined us—angels who saw the corruption in Elysium, who refused to be part of what it was becoming. We found this place, warded it, made it home.” She gestured vaguely to the surrounding structure. “We have seventeen now, counting myself. Some have formed bonds with the supernaturals in town, others with each other. But mostly, we keep to ourselves.”
“No children?” I asked, noticing the absence of younger angels in the halls we'd passed.
“No.” Kadriel's expression hardened. “We chose not to bring children into exile. It wouldn't have been fair.”
I sat back, trying to absorb everything she'd told me. My father, murdered by the archangel I'd idolized—another negative tally on the growing list. Kadriel, not dead as everyone believed, but building a sanctuary for those who opposed the very forces I was now fighting against. It was almost too much to take in.
“Six months ago,” Kadriel continued, “I learned of your fall from grace. The accusations against you were familiar. Too similar to what they said about me before my exile.”
“You knew it was a setup,” I guessed.
“I suspected.” She tapped her fingers against the table, a rhythmic pattern that betrayed her tension. “I considered reaching out to you then, but there were complications. And I wasn't certain where your loyalties truly lay.”
“And now?” I asked. “I'm here, asking for your help. Ylena is dead, but Rhodes has a powerful dagger, and he's planning to use it on Adona in two days. We're running out of time.”
Kadriel studied me, her ancient eyes seeming to look beyond the surface. “Your determination is admirable, Ariella. But I can't risk my people, not without being certain.”
“Certain of what?” Levi asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Of her heart,” Kadriel replied simply. “Of her purpose. Of whether this cause is truly worth dying for.” She paused. “We’ve been through too much and we would rather stay here and live quietly than to risk everything for nothing.” She glanced toward the door, where a figure had silently appeared. “Maeve. Join us.”
A woman stepped into the room, her movements graceful despite her obvious age. She was human in appearance, with skin like weathered parchment and hair white as fresh snow. But her eyes were what caught my attention—entirely white, without iris or pupil, like twin moons set in her lined face.
“This is Maeve,” Kadriel said, her tone softening slightly as the woman moved to stand beside her chair. “My partner, and our seer.”
Maeve's blind eyes seemed to fix on me with unnerving accuracy. “You carry many burdens, young angel,” she said, her voice melodious despite its age. “So many paths converging within you.”
I shifted uncomfortably under her sightless gaze. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Kadriel said, “that before we commit to your cause, before we risk everything we've built here, we need to know the truth. All of it. Not just what you choose to tell us.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What kind of truth?”
Maeve smiled, a gentle expression that somehow did nothing to relieve my growing unease. “The kind that can only be revealed through trial. I have the gift of sight beyond sight, of peering into a soul's true nature and the paths that lie before it.”
“A trial?” Levi's posture shifted subtly, becoming more protective. “What exactly does that entail?”
“Nothing physical,” Maeve assured him. “But it will not be pleasant. The spell requires Ariella to relive her most defining moment—the day she lost her wings and took the dagger. We will all witness it as it truly happened, not as she remembers it or as she might tell it.”
“No,” Levi said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
I placed a hand on his arm, stopping his protest. “It's okay, Levi.”
“The hell it is,” he growled. “They're asking to rummage through your head, to force you to relive one of the worst days of your life, all to satisfy their curiosity? No.”
“It's not curiosity,” Kadriel interjected, her tone sharp. “It's survival. I won't lead my people into a war without knowing exactly what we're fighting for—and who we're fighting alongside.”
