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Bracing myself for what might be a fight for my life, I stepped past Ruslan onto the landing, then gripped the rail as I began my descent. The spirals were tight and narrow, leaving little room for error in footing. The door swung shut above me, drafting a light breeze on the back of my neck, then Ruslan’s heavy steps pounded behind me.
Down and down we went, stopping briefly a few times when the spiral became too dizzying. The walls closed in on me, and my whole body tingled as that helpless feeling of being trapped threatened to rear its ugly head and send me into another bout of panic.
My breathing was labored, both from the effort of climbing down and my fear, and my aching knees wobbled with every step. What seemed like an eternity later, we landed in front of another wooden door and Ruslan pushed past where I had braced my hands on my knees to catch my breath. The panic that tightened my chest in the small enclosed space did not help ease the exertion that still stole my breath.
Despite Ruslan’s admission that small spaces bothered him too, he appeared as the ruthless, uncaring prince who had snatched me from Este Castle. With a stone in my stomach, I straightened and followed him into a subterranean chamber devoid of all natural light.
The domed ceiling was filled with floating bubbles of light,similar to those cast by my friends as we’d explored the hidden passages at Este Castle together. Tunnels veered off in every direction, and people milled about in all but the one straight ahead. But there were no guards, no dungeon cells, and no chains awaiting me, and for that I was grateful.
Ruslan carved a path to the empty tunnel, and I hurried along behind him as the others noticed our appearance, many of the males giving me an intense once over despite the cloak clasped around me. We reached a heavy door, and Ruslan knocked once with enough force that the vibration rang in my bones. Footsteps grew louder, and the door was yanked open by a hunched elderly man wearing dark robes that dragged the ground.
“Rares.” Ruslan’s tone was clipped and strained as he regarded the head of King Azim’s breeding program.
“Ruslan,” Rares responded, then stepped back to allow us to pass.
I examined Rares more closely, his frail frame not at all what I’d pictured for a male capable of such barbaric deeds. I remembered Ruslan saying Mages were human and did not live very long. And yet…
“You must be Izidora,” he turned to me, adjusting his spectacles.
I swallowed, my nervous system on high alert under his scrutinizing gaze. Unconsciously, I scooted closer to Ruslan. “That’s me.” As much as I tried to keep the waver from my voice, I failed.
“Please remove your cloak and sit here.” He patted a table in the middle of the space. I took the opportunity to glance around the room as I reached for the diamond clasp on my cloak. Aside from the central table, there was a desk strewn with paper, no order among the chaos, while books were stacked haphazardly on a shelf and even spilled onto the floor beside it. A wall ofinstruments that looked like they could easily be for torture hung along the opposite wall, and beneath them were crates filled with something I could not see.
Ruslan lifted the gray fabric from my shoulders, and I stepped to the table, fingering the hard wood. I didn’t know what awaited me should I surrender to seating myself, and my every instinct warned me to run instead of obey.
Glancing over my shoulder at Ruslan, he nodded, seating himself in a chair while he waited for Rares to examine me. I chewed my lip, knowing I had no choice and hating the clawing panic that closed my throat because of it. The flat surface was as uncomfortable as I imagined, so I perched on the edge, body tensed and ready to fight.
Rares approached, moving slowly and with a slight limp. I filed the information away for a time when I might need to outmaneuver him. He picked up my hands first, and I flinched, instinctively bringing them closer to my body. He tsked at me, “I am not going to hurt you. I am merely assessing.” He yanked my hands to him with more force than I thought him capable. Tuning my hands over, he studied my palms, then slid my tunic sleeves to my elbows, examining each scar and movement in my lower arms.
Next were my legs and feet, and the old Mage muttered to himself the whole way. He alternated between making notes at his messy desk and examining or testing my strength. “Please remove your tunic,” he said. Fear flooded my veins, and unfortunately, I only had Ruslan to save me – if he even would. In an instant, he towered over the frail Mage, the sound in his chest more animal than male.
“Turn your back,” Ruslan seethed, and Rares did so without a trace of fear in his eyes, despite the violence simmering just beneath the surface of Ruslan’s words. The male had no plans to save me from this part of the examination, and I gritted my teethas he gently slid the back of the tunic over my head so my front remained covered, bearing the scars of my abuse to the Mage who held responsibility for their presence.
Ruslan circled the table, bracing his hands on either side of my legs as Rares began examining my spine. The Mage didn’t even comment on the marks on my back, merely continuing his poking and prodding. The intensity of Ruslan’s protectiveness was palpable, and his smoky eyes never left Rares’s fingers, as though he would not hesitate to throw the male against the wall if he made the wrong move. It made me feel safe in a way that I’d never felt safe before, only serving to confuse me further.
Rares tapped the spot between my shoulder blades where my wings emerged. “You do have wings, yes?” he asked.
I dipped my head once.
“Good. Please bring them out,” he instructed.
My lungs inflated with air as I tried to calm my thundering heart. I failed to bring my wings out on my first attempt, my magic uncooperative as it sensed my fear and hesitation to display the beautiful feathers to this disgusting male. My base instincts to fight still overrode my logical brain, but after reminding myself of the benefits of learning all my powers, I managed to get them out. The white feathers arced toward the ceiling, feathers splaying wide and wings flapping a few times in response to my anxiety. Rares touched them, and I growled a warning that surprised even me.
Only one male had ever touched my wings, and that was Kazimir. I wasn’t interested in letting another poke and prod them.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as Rares bent to examine the wings, his hands nowhere to be found. He scurried to his desk, writing furiously for a few minutes. “What is going on, Ruslan? Is there something wrong with them?” I whispered.
“You have pure Angel wings.” Rares did not look up fromwhere he still scribbled notes. “None of the other Angel Félvér received them. It’s a shame Ithuriel died after your mother did. He might have been the key.”
A choked sob rose in my throat. I had harbored a small hope that the Angel who’d sired me might still live. My eyes burned, and I ducked my head to hide them.
How could one person handle so much loss? Was that all I was meant to receive in this life?
Loss, grief, heartache, abuse, those were the constants of my life. I did not believe the Goddess blessing me with a mate could ever counterbalance the weight of everything I had lost. And even if it was a blessing, I still had no choice in the matter, just like so many other parts of this life I had yet to truly live.
Ruslan wiped a tear that had fallen to my chin, saying nothing.
Rares returned to my back with an order. “Move them about.”
