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"My Pearl. You know, it is a great honor to lay your life down for the kingdom. You are the greatest, and purest, gift that could ever be given to the sea."
He stroked my cheek with a ringed thumb, gentle eyes smiling at the corners in a way that melted my hearts. He was right. It was my turn to be the salvation of the kingdom. I nodded, shaking off all the other desires.
"That's my Corellis. Azizi will never be more proud than when you will complete the Azizien Rite."
I forced myself to believe his words. At least I tried. But I still couldn’t help the truth. Though I was fated to die, I wanted nothing more than the gift to live.
Chapter 6
Summons of the Skies
YAKOBBA
The light of dawn flooded the Darkwing Kiss as I strutted into the main hall. Laughter turned to curious whispers as I scanned the large chamber, searching for familiar faces. In a corner, with a pillar of cloud shrouding them for privacy, I spotted my crew. Cackling loud, with voices raised in shouts, the angels of the Ashweaver berated one another while scarfing down their firstfast. I didn’t float two paces their way before Nyala whipped around in her seat, eyes ablaze. I gulped, bracing myself for the lashing.
"Rein in your dogs or I will."
Her voice was deathly calm as storms brewed in the pits of her eyes. Engèli howled with laughter behind her. Jabari quaked, tipping his head back to bark a laugh, himself. I had no clue what they were on about, and something told me to stay out of it.
"Nya," Engèli purred. "I know you'd want to taste at least one?—"
"Shut up, cloud eater," she spat, shaking her fist in Engèli's face. "I swear, if you don't shut up?—"
Nyala whipped out a wing, whacked Engèli upside his head, and gruffly shoved his massive form out of his seat. The angel tumbled to the floor, still howling to the point of tears. Jabari bent over, snorting into his goblet. He was wheezing now, tears flowing down his mahogany cheeks.
I shook my head.
A cacophony of noise filled the tavern. I looked to see more of my crew, nearly all the ayèn, littered throughout the different, interconnected chambers. Almost all of them had their laps filled with pretty angels, in scantily clad gowns, as they yelled at each other over tossed stones in the middle of an intense game. I search for my ayèl and found them either at the bar, minding their business as they ate their firstfast, or chatting up the courtesans who were free to talk. They were probably fishing for the latest gossip.
"Bloody cheater! Burn you in ashes, Jakran. This is the third rotting time you?—"
"Rotting time I what, Ifu?" Jakran bellowed. "Skinned your rhèr, fair and square?"
I turned back to the bar and found Naveren—the owner of the Darkwing Kiss—glaring at my pirates. He balanced an iridescent coin purse in his palm as he grimaced. His sky-light eyes caught mine, darkening.
"You're lucky they pay well, Ashthorn."
I grinned, wriggling my brows.
"Come now, Naveren." I smiled wickedly. "How often is the Darkwing Kiss this lively?"
Without warning, the entire tavern abruptly fell silent. Curious, I spun around to see the reason. When my gaze fell on the troop of Airveillers, my blood ran cold.
"High Prince Yakobba Izayi Rhòdhaire, Seedling of King Izakaya Promeseren Rhòdhaire and Queen Rekani Allahiel Rhòdhaire, Uncrowned Heir to the throne of the Cloud Castle and the Avari Kingdom. You have been summoned by His Majesty and are to come with us at once."
There was an emphasis on "Uncrowned" that jabbed at my ribs with daggers.
I faced the host of Airveillers—guardians of the Cloud Castle—most of which had been my personal Airveillers since my first riseday. I found profound disappointment in their faces. Some of them regarded me with an old affection that wheedled me down to nothing but boyish shame and regal embarrassment.
All eyes in the tavern were on me. Staring. Weighing.
Unable to ignore my princely training, I bowed low. I knew I was elegant, to such a degree that even Elector Serefini, who'd been responsible for the upbringing of my courtly etiquette, would be proud. After the deep bow, I rose to face the Airveillers. Hope glittered in their pastel colored eyes as they watched me beneath ivory armor covered in luxurious lavender cloaks. Their golden halos gleamed in the mid-dawn light of the tavern.
"Airveiller Tombabi." I nodded at the herald. "You're a long way from His Majesty, King Izakaya."
Tombabi stared at me for a long time, unimpressed. He scowled at the arrogance in my voice, his dark skin mirroring his mood.
"Have you not tired of these foolish antics?" He looked around the tavern, sniffing. "Let's go, princeling. You've been summoned by the king."
