This time she uses her fist, catching me across the jaw with enough force to send me to my knees. The taste of copper floods my mouth as I spit blood onto the packed earth.
"You brought a whore's wages into my house."
"They weren't?—"
Her boot catches me in the ribs, driving the air from my lungs in a sharp gasp. I curl forward, arms wrapping around my middle as pain lances through my side.
"Beg my forgiveness."
The words reach me through the ringing in my ears. I lift my head, meeting her cold stare through the curtain of hair that's escaped my braid.
"No."
28
AZRATHIEL
The familiar weight of shadow dissolves around me as I step through the wall, expecting to find Ilyra waiting with that slight smile she reserves for my arrivals. Instead, I emerge into a room stripped bare as winter bone.
Gone are the silk dresses that hung like captured moonlight in the corner. The jewelry box sits empty, its velvet lining exposed like an opened wound. Even the moonbeam lily—that perfect bloom I cultivated in the deepest caverns of the infernal realm—has vanished without trace.
The temperature plummets. Frost begins forming along the window glass in delicate, deadly patterns.
A soft sound reaches me from the bed—barely audible, like rain on distant stone. Ilyra lies curled beneath a threadbare sheet, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
Bruises bloom across her exposed back in shades of purple and red, finger-shaped marks that speak of violence delivered with deliberate cruelty. More bruises circle her upper arms where someone gripped her hard enough to leave permanent reminders.
"What happened?"
She flinches violently at my voice, spinning to face me with wide, startled eyes still wet with tears. Fear flickers across her features before recognition settles—and guilt pierces through my rising fury at having frightened her when she's already been hurt.
"Azrathiel." My name breaks on a sob, releasing the flood she's been holding back.
She curls inward, hiding her face against her knees as tears fall like rain after drought. The sound tears through me worse than any blade, worse than the celestial chains that bind my essence.
I cross to her in three swift strides, gathering her trembling form against my chest. She fits perfectly in my arms, as if every line of my body was designed to shelter hers from harm.
"I'm here." The words rumble low in my chest as she presses her face against my shoulder. "I'm here, flower."
Her tears soak through the dark fabric of my shirt while I hold her, one hand stroking the length of her unbound hair. Each shuddering breath she takes feeds the infernal fire building in my veins.
Someone put their hands on her. Someone hurt what belongs to me.
The room grows colder still, shadows deepening in the corners like living things drawn to my rage. I force myself to breathe steadily, to keep my voice gentle despite the violence screaming through my thoughts.
"Tell me who did this."
She shakes her head against my shoulder, fresh tears spilling over. "They took everything. All of it. The lily you gave me—they destroyed it."
My jaw clenches tight enough to crack stone. The moonbeam lily took centuries to cultivate, its petals infused with starlightfrom the first dawn. To destroy something so precious, so carefully crafted...
"They called me a thief." Her voice comes muffled against my shirt. "Said I stole from Bram's estate. Vaelra dragged me outside and?—"
Her words dissolve into another wave of sobs. I tighten my arms around her, pressing my lips to the crown of her head as scenarios flash through my mind—each one bloodier than the last.
Vaelra's hands around Ilyra's throat. Mariselle holding her down while her mother strikes. Bram arriving to find his bride marked and deciding to sample his property early.
The shadows in the room writhe like serpents, responding to the fury building in my chest. Ice crystals spread across the walls in intricate, deadly patterns.