Fearless (3 page)

As I reel off my list I walk between the rows, peering into prisoners' eyes. ‘I want to know which passages the servants take when they move between rooms and don't want to be seen. And I want information on the beasts. Where they're kept, when they're fed, who is in charge. Use your
techniques
to ensure they're not lying. Each one must give you something every day, or they go without water for forty-eight hours.'

Michael nods.
Now you are thinking as a king.

I give him a withering look.
What do I care about being a king?
Without Ebony …
My powers surge through me again as I imagine where she is right now. While I bring this negative energy under control, Michael takes over instructing our soldiers on how to begin the arduous task of he
rdin
g the prisoners to Earth.

I remember Ebony telling me Michael's voice reminds her of chiming church bells, and I find myself moving towards the shimmering gates wondering what she thinks
Luca's voice sounds like.

Michael places the palm of his hand on my shoulder. ‘We will bring her back, Nathaneal.'

‘I know that, Michael, because I will not stop until I do. But it's not going to be today. And that's killing me.'

4

Ebony

When Luca finally releases me, I fall backwards a few steps and draw some much-needed air into my lungs.

He stares at me, his lips pressed together, breathing in deeply through flaring nostrils. It's as if the appearance of that creature were as much a shock to him as it was to me.

I really, REALLY have to get out of here. Nathaneal, where are you?

Eventually I am calm enough to take in my surroundings. Only then do I notice the Thrones are gone. They're such quiet-moving goliaths, but being unaware for even a second while I'm in this place will not do.

One way or another I will get out of here.

But where is Nathaneal? The last thing I saw were the gates crashing down between us, but he would have found a way to open them again, surely. Did Luca's soldiers do something to stop him? Is he injured?

Breathe …

OK. So for now it's just Luca –
or that creature, or whatever he really is
– and me. We're standing inside a domed courtyard, lush with tropical trees and flowering plants. On either side of me, two long corridors face each other, with arches,
white columns, and a brick wall behind them.

I take a few steps to distance myself from Luca's overpowering presence. He doesn't stop me walking away, just folds his arms over his chest and leans his hips against a brick garden wall. I take this to mean there's no easy way out. ‘How did we get in here?'

‘You missed the entrance when you had your face turned into my shoulder.'

I glance up at the dome that stretches from one end to the other. ‘I'll find it.'

‘And then what? You'll fly away?'

I want to slap the arrogant smirk off his face. He knows my wings haven't appeared yet. Instead I squeeze my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. The way he watches me is unnerving, like he's an artist who's sketching me naked. And his eyes are the same as that creature's but green.
Down
, I tell myself.
Look down.

Large square tiles with mirror shine reflect blood on my shoes. I try to ignore the fact that the blood doesn't all belong to dark angels. Nathaneal's blood is on my hands. I shudder at the memory of Luca's highest-ranking officer, General Ithran, pushing his sword into Nathaneal's throat. I turn and walk in another direction.

This path leads to a fountain where three larger-than-life sculptures of Luca's first demons, the shape-shifting blue-eyed Aracals, seem to hover, suspended on the brink of flight. With their wingtips touching, their feathers shiny black, they look almost alive. I walk around them, staring at their eyes, and am shocked to realise that their eyes
are
real. ‘That's gross,' I mutter to myself, spinning around quickly at
the sound of Luca's snigger and his hot breath on the back of my neck.

Oh, crap!

I fight the urge to run. But really there's no point. As he pointed out, it's not as if I can fly – yet.

I reach inside for my powers and feel them simmering. It's a comfort to know they're still there.

Luca points to the bench. ‘Shall we?'

I stare at him with my eyebrows raised. He holds my gaze before belatedly stepping back. I sit by the tree. He sits next to me, so close his thigh brushes against mine. I inch away. His body heat is ridiculous! ‘Why are you so
hot
?'

Oh, no, I didn't just call him … ?

He tilts his head to the side, looking amused. ‘So, Princess, what do you think?'

His casual tone stuns me. Does he think I'm OK with this? That I'll simply fall in with his plans now that he finally has me here?

He indicates the courtyard.

‘OK, well, it's … ah … not horrible.' Not by a long shot, but I don't have to tell him that. ‘What do you care whether or not I like your courtyard?'

His green eyes flash to black. I don't care what colour they turn as long as it's not that glowing yellow of the beast's. ‘It would make things easier if we could at least be civil.'

‘Easier for whom?'

He's silent a moment, watching my face. ‘Both of us.'

‘Nothing will ever be easier for me as long as I'm here.'

‘Everything I have done concerning you has a purpose.'

‘What does that mean? Have you read some prophecy scratched by the hand of God that declares I have to be the one to bear your children?'

‘Something like that.'

‘
What?
'
I wasn't being serious.

I shake my head, growing angrier by the second. I notice him studying my face, my neck, my shoulders, then brazenly drawing his gaze slowly, frame by frame, back up, where he spends the longest time scrutinising my mouth. I get up and throw my hands on my hips. ‘Stop stripping me with your eyes!'

‘Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?'

‘Stop it, Luca. I'm sixteen, and I'll be long gone from here by the time I'm old enough to have your kids.'

‘You were not meant to be here until the eve of your eighteenth birthday, but events turned out differently. No matter. You're here now and you will learn to love it. You will learn to love me.'

What I would give to stretch my hands around his neck and strangle him.

He cackles at the image.

I dropped my guard. I can't let that happen or he'll know everything I'm thinking. I school my expression to look bored, a mask that conceals the fire raging inside me. The red haze encircles my vision and I wonder if he can see it too, or somehow tell when I'm angry no matter how I mask my features to appear calm.

The sound of someone knocking draws my attention to a blue door with a gold handle beneath one of the centre arches.

‘Enter,' Luca says.

A woman of about thirty years, near my height, with dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, makes a beeline for Luca while shooting inquisitive little glances at me. Her tight-fitting blue dress to her calves and elbows reveals a thin but shapely figure.

She waits for Luca's nod, then bows low in front of me.

‘This is Mela. She will be your handmaiden,' he says. ‘Mela will show you to your apartment and provide whatever you need.'

‘I need to leave. Can she help me with that?'

Mela looks straight up at me. Our eyes meet. There's so much she wants to say but her lips don't move. Something about her seems familiar. This is the woman my uncle, Zavier, mentioned briefly as he carried me through the Crossing to the Gates of Skade. He told me Mela was intuitive, that she would know the kinds of things I like and I'd be safe in her hands. I try to read her eyes, but she shifts them back to Luca and I lose the sense. He sighs. The sound tells me how fed up he is with my whining already. Good.

‘Did you bring the cloak?'

‘Yes, my lord,' Mela says. She unfolds a long velvet cloak the same colour as her dress from her arm. She goes to put it around my shoulders, but Luca takes it from her, doing the job himself.

‘You will adjust in time.' His mouth at my ear burns my skin.

I jerk my head and step away from both of them. ‘It will take me forever to get used this place.'

‘Well, Princess, that happens to be the one thing you get
for free around here.'

‘I don't want forever, if it means I'm stuck here with you.'

Mela frowns and gives me a minuscule shake of her head. She makes as if to move towards me, but I step further away. ‘I don't want her either.'

She exchanges a glance with Luca I don't quite catch. He exhales, revealing his impatience with me is growing. I'm glad.

‘Ebony, you need to sleep. You won't make any sense until you have rested. In your room you will find wine and sleeping pills.' He glances at Mela. ‘A bath first, then give her as many pills as she wants.'

‘
What?
' At first I don't understand, but the reality of my immortality sinks inside me like a brick dropped into water.

5

Ebony

I'm in a daze, barely following where Mela leads, but I force my heavy lids to remain open and my mind focused in case I see something that will help me escape. The corridor we're walking through seems endless. There are closed doors on both sides, indistinct sounds of activity coming from behind them.

‘Offices.' Mela answers the question in my eyes. ‘Skade is run from the palace. There is a division for everything.'

‘You mean like war, and kidnapping?'

She gives me the same warning look she did in the courtyard. ‘There is a war division where
kidnapping
–' she says the word softly – ‘has been a source of discussion for many years.'

‘You mean kidnapping
me
.'

‘Yes, my lady, along with defence, environment, mining, agriculture, schools, prisons, slaves, to name a few.'

‘Really? Skade is
that
organised?' Who would have thought? Apparently they even have a division for … ‘Did you say “slaves”?'

‘Humans who have passed away and whose souls end up here.'

‘I didn't know.'

‘I doubt anyone outside of Skade's perimeters would know what really goes on here, my lady.'

‘Don't call me that. I'm, like, half your age. It makes me want to squirm. Call me Ebony, please.'

‘As you wish …
Ebony
.' She smiles. ‘It's beautiful.'

‘It's not my real name.'

I ignore her curious frown to concentrate on identifying anything that could help me escape. We come to an enormous room, larger than a football field. Marble columns support a high ceiling and arches define smaller intimate spaces where a few carefully placed screens, armchairs and low tables accentuate privacy although there is none.

The walls have paintings and huge photographic art hanging all over them. It's like a gallery showing a mix of olden styles with modern.

I look for an exit, but the room is so big I can't tell where it begins or ends. ‘Where are we?'

‘Ground-floor reception area.'

‘Like a hotel foyer.'

‘It is a hotel at times. Angels from all over Skade often stay at the palace when they have business in the capital or they're attending a function here in one of the ballrooms. The palace has hundreds of guest suites, more than a thousand rooms in total.'

Six angels in dark fitted coats walk in, revealing the p
ositi
on of the entrance doors in the very long wall opp
osi
te. I slot it into my memory. Mela moves to shield me from their view. ‘Keep your eyes down and continue walking.'

‘Who are they?'

‘Dignitaries from Zurat.'

I glance around her as two angels, one male and one female, of a kind I don't recognise though similar to Seraphim, step out from behind a desk to greet them. Their uniforms are all black, and while they're clearly not soldiers, not wearing armour, their manner has an air of superiority and their neat, sleek style makes them almost as intimidating.

‘What order are those two?'

She doesn't need to look to know whom I mean. ‘Virtues,' she says. ‘They have superior intellect and organisational skills. Skade runs smoothly because of the Order of
Virtues.'

‘And those dignitaries from Zurat – what are they doing here?'

‘They're asking for assistance with a rebel uprising.'

‘Oh.'
Skade has rebels?
Now
that's
interesting.

We arrive at a set of white double doors with gold handles. Mela grips both handles firmly in her hands and opens the doors wide, revealing a stained-glass window directly opposite with a set of stairs going up on the left, another set of stairs going down and a glass lift between them. Two Throne soldiers are standing on the landing, fully armoured and with weapons at their sides. As we pass them, Mela nods, motioning towards the lift. We get in and she selects the eighth floor, the top button. As we rise, I make a mental note of the pair of soldiers I see through the lift's glass walls standing guard at each floor.

From the lift we enter a long corridor where the entire left side is glass. Down the right are closed doors with gold handles, spaced evenly.

‘Apartments,' Mela says, noticing where I'm looking.

I move closer to the window. A grey sky is no surprise. In my dreams Luca showed me parts of this world. Volcanoes are erupting all the time, creating chaotic weather patterns, cold temperatures, toxic air and a darkened sky caused by gases in the upper stratosphere reflecting more sunlight than they should.