“Beautiful, aren’t they?” said a male voice from behind her.
She spun, shocked. A blond angel stood there. The same angel Fiza had warned her not to tangle with. Ambriel, Fiza had called him.
“Yes, they really are. What are they?” she asked tentatively.
“Water sprites.”
“The forest seems so full of magic here.” Elizabeth stared in awe at the water sprites playing. “I’ve never seen anything like this back home.”
Ambriel smiled kindly at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
He was the embodiment of goodness and everything right in the world. Her entire upbringing told her to trust him, and after living with demons and walking on eggshells for so long, the relief she felt was almost staggering.
“Why are they here?” she asked eagerly.
“There is magic here,” the angel said, returning her smile. “Like calls to like.” His features were so ethereal, his smile so benevolent and kind—it was hard not to look at him and sigh.
What he said made no sense to her, so she smiled politely and waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she asked, “Can you tell me more about magic? What does having magic feel like?”
“You feel it in here.” Ambriel took her hand and, before she could react, placed her palm against his chest. Where his chest should have been warm with body heat, it was cool. His skin was poreless and nearly glowing—reminders that he was not of this earth. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, through the layers of white fabric. “When your magic awakens and you use it, it feels like your very spirit comes alive and burns with fire from within you.”
“Fascinating,” she said in a daze.
His hand held her fingers to his chest.
“It’s too bad all the books were burned long ago. Magic seems to be a major part of our history, and yet I know nothing about it,” she admitted.
“As a proper lady, I would’ve been surprised if you had ever seen magic before coming here,” Ambriel said, looking at her fondly.
Sunlight danced off the turquoise water. She inhaled the heavy smell of pine. It was beautiful here, peaceful.
Silence stretched between them. Finally, she said, “I’m surrounded by demons, and I don’t know anything about magic. It makes me worried that I’m ill-equipped to be here.” She paused. “If I needed to defend myself against them, if one of them attacked me, I’d be powerless.”
Ambriel nodded regally. “It is a possibility.” He paused. “If I may?”
She nodded, gesturing for him to continue. “Of course, Ambriel. You can say anything you like.”
“No good can come from consorting with demons. Run far, far away if you can. They have a habit of saying one thing and meaning another entirely. All of history is riddled with legends and myths of those who made deals with demons only to regret it.”
“I cannot,” she said sadly. She met his crisp, pale blue eyes, so pale they were almost white. His eyes seemed old, as if they held ancient wisdom despite his youthful face. They pierced her soul and made her feel like she couldn’t lie to him even if she wanted to.
“I feel lost.” She looked away, and her voice cracked with vulnerability. “I can’t return home—not to a family that would trade me off to a horrible man—but staying here…” She gestured helplessly at the forest around him. “I don’t know what will happen to me here, and that terrifies me.”
He nodded consolingly. The angel radiated quiet understanding and solidarity, and she drew strength from it.
“You have a brave heart.”
She smiled sadly.
“If I may?” he asked, lifting a hand towards her.
She tensed, growing uneasy. What did he want?
Tentatively, she glanced at his wings and sincere eyes, and nodded.
He placed a hand on her chest, though the gesture was more clinical than romantic, and brought his face close to hers.
“What—”
