Page 80 of The Deer and the Dragon
While other demons had opted for horns or a tail, the person before me had enormous, feathered wings. Their wings were so black that they refracted the rainbow iridescence of an oil slick. I almost missed the thin, silver ringlet of his crown contrasting against his golden-brown skin. Had it not been for the crown, I wouldn’t have realized that I was staring into the pale, sapphire-blue eyes of the King. They sparkled at me with true joy as he gave in to the urge to squeeze me once more, crushing me against himself with more intensity than I could possibly understand. This impossibly beautiful, ageless man with wings larger than life was the first person I’d met who looked the part of a true fallen angel.
When he finally released me, the smile didn’t leave his face.
“And you must be Fauna,” he said, catching her hand and clasping it in both of his in a warm, friendly shake.
My brain tipped and whirled as I tried to make sense of events.
The man was too happy. The gigantic, modern-Gothic room with silver filigree on the ceiling and dangling chandeliers was too beautiful. His sleek, black suit was too perfect, its chain, his watch, his crown too chic. His irises were too blue, particularly starkly contrasted against his features. His youthful skin was too golden. His smile was too white, too even, too kind. Even his eyes crinkled with too much gentleness and joy.
As I looked at him, I was thirteen years old and in my kitchen all over again. My mother’s question rang through me, chilling me as I regarded the King.
Did you know that Lucifer was the most beautiful angel?
Was this him?
“I’m sorry, I…” I hedged in honest confusion. I shook my head, not in rejection but in utter lack of comprehension. I’d expected a throne. I’d been ready to fumble through a botched curtsy while I trembled in terror. I’d expected a swimming pool of blood and a harem of Soul Eaters.
“Of course,” he said, leading me away from Fauna as he pressed a hand to my lower back. He gestured to include her as he led us to a collection of tufted couches, ushering me to my seat before settling into the chair beside me. “We did meet once, nearly two thousand years ago. I don’t suppose you remember, but of course, why would you? Most of those caught in the mortal loop don’t. You weren’t ready to join us at the time, and my son is not one to rush perfection. He’s my better in many ways. But, by the powers, you’re as splendid now as you were then.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever had a glass of water in my life. My tongue was made of paper and sand. I blinked at him withouta drop of comprehension and tried to remember what my therapist had taught me about grounding myself when the world spun out of control.
I was supposed to name the five senses.
What could I see? I saw the loveliest man with the loveliest wings and the loveliest…office? What was this? A desk, couches, a chandelier—no,threechandeliers—pillars, floor-to-ceiling windows…yes, this had to be an office.
What did I smell? Well, there was Fauna’s scent of winter and sea. There was the lingering smell of Chanel No. 5. There was something sweet, like pomegranate maybe, or dates…
I heard laughter. I felt soft, comfortable fabric. I tasted sticky dehydration as I attempted and failed to swallow.
My therapist had been wrong. The spin hadn’t ended. I was not grounded. I would be requesting a refund for her services.
“Sorry,” the King amended. “I apologize, Maribelle, truly. I can imagine how overwhelming this is for you. I know some experiences are more enlightened than others. I can’t tell you how hopeful I was when I learned you had fae lineage in this incarnation. To not just be able to see him when he reveals himself but even of your own accord… It was the bridge we’ve needed for millennia.”
I looked to Fauna, but she only offered an unhelpful shrug.
“Of all the names you’ve given my son,” said the man, “Caliban is one of my favorites. I’ll add it to my repertoire! He liked Kit, Vulpes, and Nyx the best. Oh, and the cycle where you named him Fluffy! I’m almost certain it was before your people at the time crossed the Bering Strait, though I get the dates mixed up. Of course, the Qawiaraq word for ‘fluffy’ you used was…what was it? No bother. Was that the one where he remained a beast and never took one human form? Oh! Do you remember when you were in Haiti—no, of course you don’t.” He shook his head in jubilation, tilting it back as he let another long, happy laugh escape his belly.“Maribelle, sweet Maribelle, the joy of our kingdom,please, tell me you’ve come to join us at long last.”
I had no idea what to say. The ringing in my ears was almost too loud for me to hear the King. To both my surprise and my relief, Fauna spoke on my behalf.
“If you’ll forgive my intrusion, Your Highness,” she began.
Her politeness and formality were enough to wake me from my stupor. I blinked the shock from my eyes as I trained my eyes on their exchange.
The reluctance at shifting his attention away from me was unmistakable, but the King was a gentleman. He turned to her cordially.
“Unfortunately,” she said, “her fae lineage in this cycle has led to a few complications. I’m not sure what you know of Maribelle, but with a clairsentient mother who has strong feelings for the opposing side of your war, Your Grace, Maribelle has gained an angelic tracker. It’s part of why I’ve been unable to leave her alone for more than a minute. She’s at risk.”
The joy smoked out. A chill settled over us. At first I thought it was my imagination, until I saw the goose bumps on not only my arms but on Fauna’s. Even the arched, picture windows that belonged in a sanctuary showed the bright, blue day as clouds crept in to cover the sunlight. Gray light filtered into the room.
Gravity weighted his question as he repeated, “An angel is tracking her, and my son is not here with her?”
Fauna emphasized her seriousness by remaining reverently still.
I could nearly see the puff of her breath when she spoke through the chill. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can’t speak to her former lives, but I don’t expect her other forms have been at risk of bonding with an angel. You know as well as I what this would mean for her cycle. If the angel succeeds…”
“Which angel?” he asked, voice low as an oath.
“He’s going by Silas. You may have known him as—”
