I watch Avarice pace a rut in the floor, amused. He has yet to notice that I've woken up, then again I just now found the strength to open my eyes. Raising my hand to my forehead is another endeavor, the goddess’ work is immaculate and I find no scars made by the thorny crown once jammed onto my skull. My hands, as far as I can tell, are scarless too.

Avarice, having caught me sitting myself up, drops onto the edge of the bed. Snatching up my wrists, he covers my hands and forearms in kisses. I’m so taken aback by this strange display I simply goggle.

“I was so damn scared you wouldn’t make it- the Goddess said you might not make it through the night and you were so pale...”

“You were afraid for me?” I croak, my throat is drier than a desert in the height of a hundred-year drought.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before gracing me with a subtle nod.

I seize Avarice by the collar of his shirt and pull him as hard and as fast as I can toward me. Mashing my lips onto his, he stills. After a heartbeat I begin to pull away, afraid I’ve made a horrible misconception and ruined our relationship.

My lips have hardly left his when Avarice’s fingers tangle in my hair. We crash together like the surging waves of the ocean thrashed by the winds of a hurricane. It sets my heart on fire.

Avarice is the first to pull away, trembling and panting as hard as he might if he’d flown a thousand miles without pause. The look on his face is one of wondrous amazement and scant trepidation.

“Is there any water around here?”

Avarice releases a short burst of laughter. “Oh, yes, of course.”

He hops off the bed and sweeps out of the room, returning a few minutes later. Did he walk all the way to the kitchens and back himself? Surely I must be dreaming.

I snatch the glass from his hands and drain it so fast I nearly choke to death. I decide I’m not dreaming after all. 

When the coughing ceases, I swing my legs over the bedside and Avarice lurches forward to stop me.

“No, no, no! You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“I’ll manage,” I say, brushing him off. “I need to speak with The Fallen.”

“Whatever it is, I think it can wait.”

“Being nailed to a cross really makes one appreciate the time they have to spend and the things one has to say. I have ideas and I would like them to survive me. If you’re so concerned, you could carry me again.”

Avarice takes me up on my offer for him to carry me, he seems to enjoy it a little too much though. Either way, It’s cute.

I make him put me down when we reach The Fallen’s guest room. She leaps to her feet when she sees me and wraps me up in a tight embrace that squeezes the air from me, practically crushing my wings.

Pulling away, I say. “Visiting Cloud Spire reminded me of a book I read a long time ago. It was locked up in Lady Ivory’s secret library-Long story-and it spoke of a hidden realm on the East coast.”

“My, you’re quick to the point today.” She responds, hands on her hips. “My thinks you’re about to ask me if I’d be willing to fly across the entire continent in search of this fantastical hidden land?”

“I can’t force you, even if I wanted to.”

“I’ll go, I haven’t left this dreadful cavern in hundreds of years and my wings could really use a stretch.”

“Thank you so much, this means a lot to me, I’ll have to repay you someday.” I take a step to the door but she holds up a hand.

“If you want to repay me, you’ll need my sword.” She undoes the belt around her hips, holding the sword and it’s sheath, and holds it out to me. “Consider it a gift.”

A shockwave of tingles throughout my entire body the second my fingertips touched the hilt of The Fallen’s sword. Even stranger, my wings begin to sparkle, the blue tips of my feathers darkening and swallowing up the white until my wings are a deep midnight. Now I look exactly like the Fallen… but male… and with fewer wings… also I don’t have a halo.

The sword blazed anew with a fresh wielder, humming pleasantly. I swipe the air to test it, shaving off the top of a chair when I miscalculate a swing. The blade trails light, slicing through the wood as it would air, though it was cold to the touch.

“Zacchaeus, you understand this is not something I can freely give. You must take the oath that comes with this sword, it is my price as well as the favor you owe me for my travels.”

“Okay.” I say unsurprised.

“I want you to kill my sister.”

“...Lady Ivory is a goddess, what you ask is impossible.”

“This is no normal sword, my child.”

“Um, Alright.” I say hesitantly. “But what stopped you from doing it yourself?”

“She’s my sister, and she’s not the monster who killed Zorzallaz.”

Charmeine invades my thoughts. “Ah, I know what you mean.”

“Aim for the heart, the sword will help you.”

~~~

I wait with Avarice in an abandoned chapel on the outskirts of Cloud Spire, outside the gate but not so far Charmeine and Melek have to leave the island and risk scrutiny. Exposure would ruin any chance of this whole plot falling apart. And, worst case scenario, we’re all killed.

Avarice is shifting nervously beside me, his wings are twitching and flap every so often too. I’m watching the early evening light filtering in through the windows fade when Avarice forces something small and cold into my palm.

“The Fallen gave this to me the day you got that sword, I’ve spent the past few days working up the courage to actually give it to you.”

It’s a ring, I slip it on and it automatically adjusts itself to fit my finger perfectly. “Oh! Is that all it can do?”

“It refuses to be worn by anyone who doesn’t have at least a drop of The White King’s blood in their veins, according to the goddess herself.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “So, not only is it impossible to lose unless I take it off myself but it’s virtually worthless to thieves.”

“Just like you, except this thief finds you very valuable.”

“Hah!” I pull Avarice down to my level by his obsidian choker. “I do wonder though, why did she give it to you if it’s supposed to be for me?”

“Someone may have gushed a little too much about you.” He says red-faced. “I think she wants us to…”

I follow his gaze, Charmeine and Melek are standing on the other side of the room, giggling like idiots.

I stick my tongue out at my sister and she blows a raspberry in return; Melek makes a lewd gesture while Charmeine isn’t looking.

After swinging Charmeine around like I used to when we were younger, I go on to explain my plot to the girls, Avarice running through alternatives should something go amiss in parts of the plan. It’s mostly stuff I won’t get to see, my job is to distract Lady Ivory while the girls lead the hoard in a stampede through the front gates where It’ll be the least guarded. I do not tell them that I’m going to try and kill the goddess.

“Hey, I think that could work. What day are we doing this?”

“The Winter’s End Banquet. The Guardians will be busy with the temple, they won’t be prepared to keep a mob of Niceaons from breaking down the gates and flying away...”

A robed figure steps out into the middle of our circle. They turn to me and point at my hand. I do not understand what they’re trying to tell me, nor why they won’t speak up. Melek lets out a low-animal growl and it dawns on me. It’s a cultist and they know the ring.