“And what in the stars do you all hope for me to do exactly?”
I looked between the gargoyles, completely caught off guard.
Obsidian and Coralai shared a look. Then they turned to me and grinned.
“We need you to train this one. We’ve heard her practicing and...”
Coralai looked at Obsidian.
“You need to help her, Roièssa,” Obsidian finished, looking embarrassed on behalf of the Cherubim. “She’s not entirely a lost cause, but...”
“She’s no Na’Kayla. And since she’s?—”
I frowned. I knew my meddling with that performer and devouring her by blackfire would come back to bite me. Stars. If Na’Kayla was the star singer, that meant this Cherubim had to become just as prominent. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I get it.” I sighed. “I permanently removed Tassarion’s favorite singer. I took away the pride and eternal joy of the king.”
“Wrong,” Obsidian said. He looked at me resolute, with a knowing look in his eyes. “The king has one pride and eternal joy. His Everheart.”
Bile spilled in my gut, souring my mouth with acid, triggering my jealousy.
“His,” I breathed. “Everheart.” I blinked, processing this information.
Then I remembered Tassarion callingmehis Everheart the dawn Obsidian told him about Marcèllian. I felt all seven of my hearts being re-arranged in my chest as I dwelled on that thought for a ridiculously long time. My lips quirked into a sheepish grin.
“His... Everheart,” I repeated.
The Gargorètti’s lips curled in a sneaky smile.
“Awoui, Roièssa.”
It felt like the clouds in my mind had parted, making way for sunshine.
I squeezed Obsidian’s hand, giggling before remembering why I was here.
“This Cherubim. Which chamber is hers?”
The gargoyles pointed to the largest door at the very end of the hall.
“What’s her name?”
“Vivienne.”
I nodded in acknowledgement, eyes on the Cherubim’s door. Ifyused, shedding my Seraphim skin for my ethèr, embodying my blackfire. The hall instantly illuminated with blackfire as my lavender starlight collided with the sun pouring through the windows.
“Leave me. I will go and remain with her awhile. If she doesn’t reject me. If she does? That is neither my fault nor my problem.”
I made my way to the door. Knocked three times. Hard.
There was no answer.
I knocked one more time.
This time the door cracked open, revealing a Cherubim mid-yawn, her big and bright, multi-colored eyes looking up to see who’d come to visit. When she saw it was the Gargorètti and I, her eyes widened in panic.
“Phantimèssa,” she whispered. “Please. I’ve done nothing?—”
“I’m not here to hurt you, Cherubim.” I tilted my head at the Lowerrank. “My wingmate has stepped away from Everthorn Manor for a bit. When he returns, the Opèr must continue.”
