Everyone turned to stare at me, and I ignored them. Lifting my chin high, I concentrated on keeping the flames contained to my skin.
“Aran, from your reaction”—Dr. Palmer looked at her shaking hands pointedly—“it seems that something did happen in the battle. Let’s talk about it.”
Her trembling intensified, and the water in the cup turned to ice.
My upper lip pulled back. How dare she ask such intrusive questions of my Revered?
Only I could pester her about her choices.
This random woman had no right to distress her.
Scarlet shooting off my fingertips, I leaned back and draped my arm over the cushion behind Arabella as I fantasized about Dr. Palmer’s expression when she went up in flames.
I felt significantly better.
Maybe therapy was working?
“Please, Aran?” Dr. Palmer looked at her expectantly.
There was a long pause. “Fine—I’ll tell you. ”
I glanced down at her in surprise.
It never failed to shock me, having a woman for a Revered. No one would accuse Arabella of being weak, especially after her performance in the Legionnaire Games, but she was clearly more empathetic than the three of us.
She was a composite of contradictions: kind and playful, sad and morose, a victim and an aggressor, tenacious and merciless.
I wanted to crawl under her skin and learn every nuance.
My fingers curled around a turquoise curl that stuck out from her messy hair and hung over the edge of the couch.
Arabella was also shockingly pretty.
Her arching cheekbones and lush lips haunted me. Dark lashes fluttered over wide navy eyes that were rimmed in dark circles and highlighted with a slashing scar. Sleek muscles tapered into curves.
“Something did happen in the battle,” she whispered, and Dr. Palmer clicked her pen in anticipation.
Arabella wet her lower lip, and I swallowed a groan, unable to tear my eyes away from her.
Now that I had gotten used to the idea, I was more than content with the House of Malum having its first female Revered. It was not a sign of weakness but rather showcased how strong we were because we would take care of her.
Our Revered was someone softer and kinder who needed Protectors and a powerful Ignis to shield her.
It made sense.
Before us the realms had not been kind to her.
Now she had us, and we would not be kind to the realms on her behalf.
Sure we’d fucked up badly at Elite Academy and we still had to make it up to her. There was a reason the sun god only chose devils for his kings. Unlike angels, we couldn’t be constrained. When we wanted something, we didn’t stop until we got it.
Period.
Going forward, we would shield Arabella like no mate had ever been shielded before. We hadn’t been lying when we’d called ourselves her hounds.
We were hers to use.
She just didn’t know what that meant yet, but she would.
Cherry-red lips parted. Arabella nodded like she was fortifying herself, then blurted in one breath, “I-got-stabbed-in-the-stomach-with-an-enchanted-sword-and-would-have-died-but-didn’t-because-I’m-the-fae-queen-and-can-only-die-by-having-my-heart-ripped-out-and-eaten-like-I-did-to-my-mother-which-is-weird-because-actually-I’m-an-angel-so-I-don’t-understand-how-I-can-be-queen.”
Arabella collapsed back like it had physically hurt her to speak, and she waited for a response.
Preoccupied with what she’d revealed, she didn’t notice she’d slumped against my side.
I noticed.
Dr. Palmer’s eyes widened.
I tucked my arm around Arabella’s side protectively and glared at the therapist, daring her to say something upsetting.
I didn’t like what she’d done, but I didn’t want her to have to relive it.
My left hand rested against Arabella’s forearm, and cold wafted off her sweatshirt. Her skin must be freezing if I could feel the chill through her clothes, especially since it was uncomfortably warm in the cramped office.
Lately ice trailed behind her wherever she went, and I didn’t like it. None of the other angels radiated cold like my Revered did, and I was worried something was wrong.
When we’d first arrived at the war camp, Jinx informed us that Arabella’s mother was renowned for her power. It had driven her to madness and the angel governing body refused to grant her wings.
Needing to do something to help, I tucked Arabella closer to me as I created a small fire in my right palm, then laid my flaming hand on her lap.
Subconsciously, she huddled closer to me and the flame.
With Orion leaning against my right and Arabella pressed against my left, I felt like I was flying.
I reached over and grabbed Scorpius’s shoulder so all three of them were touching me.
Instantly, I relaxed.
I was an Ignis taking care of his mates.
I was warming my Revered.
It was a dream that a month ago I’d thought would never come true.
Dr. Palmer scribbled furiously on her clipboard, then glared over her spectacles. “Do you feel like you’ve been processing getting stabbed and almost dying? Have you been thinking about this traumatic event a lot?”
I gnashed my teeth.
Dr. Palmer ignored me.
Arabella pulled out her pipe, inhaled smoke, and said hoarsely, “I feel the same as always.” An opaque crow settled onto her shoulder.
“And how do you normally feel?” Dr. Palmer asked.
Arabella scoffed. “Empty.”
I jolted, Orion made a sad noise, and Scorpius muttered something harshly as all three of us remembered the hollow sensation in her memory.
Did she still feel that way?
I wanted to scream.
Her crow cawed, and my eyes widened; while she’d sobbed on the palace floor, her mother had accused her of setting monstrous birds free from their gilded cages. Was that why she kept the bird as her companion?
I tucked her tighter against my side, and she scooted closer.
My heart soared.
My eyes burned with pressure.
“Could you expand on the emptiness you feel? Try to put it into more words.” Dr. Palmer scribbled aggressively on her clipboard.
“It feels like I’m missing something.”
“And when did this start?”
“I woke up one day at fourteen years old, and the world was colored in shades of dark blue and gray.” Arabella stared off into the distance like she was somewhere else. “It was freezing cold. I remember it vividly because for the first time in my life, living felt like a chore.”
Dr. Palmer furrowed her brow and stopped writing. “You mean you felt like the world was colored in shades of dark blue and gray.”
“No, the colors changed.” Arabella shook her head.
“Well, to start, you need to recognize that you just felt that way.” Dr. Palmer waved her pen. “The colors weren’t actually different.”
“Yes, they were,” Orion whispered.
Everyone turned to him.
“What did you say?” Dr. Palmer asked.
I scoffed. “She said the colors were different, so they were. Ask something else,” I spoke harshly to end the conversation because we couldn’t let Aran know we were in her memories.
She would want to stop the connection.
We were desperate to link ourselves to her.