Dead.
I was sodead.
I remained crouched, blinking through my shock. The empyrean priests looked down on me. Too many of their eyes lingered on the pool of my braids that tumbled to the garden floor. Even more lingered on the curves of my breasts. The narrowness of my waist. The glow of my skin through the lace of my long gown. I was covered from neck to toe. But the way they stared,ogled, you would’ve sworn I’d shed every inch of clothing and laid myself bare before them.
“Now what’s a beautiful,exquisite, little thing like you,” spoke the same Farasee, his glittering hazel eyes lazily looking around the calm, empty garden. “Doing allaloneout here?”
Another Farasee smirked, his dark eyes promising violence of a kind I knew I wouldn’t survive. He opened his mouth. When he spoke, my shoulders trembled.
“Josephièn Namarielle. Chief Elder of Okapi Village, capital of Edenael Island, couldn’tpossiblybe responsible for you living out here alone...” A dark flash across his eyes. “Unprotected,” he slipped closer. A knot tightened in the back of my throat. “Defenseless... could he?”
The Farasee’s grin stretched.
The priests chuckled.
Fear. That was unfettered fear freezing my blood over with ice.
“How do you know Papi?” I asked coolly, fighting to keep my voice even. “And why in all of Elledelle are youhere?”
The Farasees didn’t answer.
Their unified silence terrified me more than their presence.
Papi was the one who sat me down when I had just crossed my third century to tell me the dark, hideous truth. I had to have been three hundred and fifty. So young.
So naïve.
Such afool.
He’d told me about the Farasee Order. How it was predominantly males. How the Farasees were crueler than they were holy. More vicious than they were pious. And that if I’d ever been found by one alone, I needed to fight like the Six Hèls to be free.
Papi’s warning was foroneFarasee finding me unawares.
As I shifted on the heels of my sandaled feet, I counted seventy.
“Nahomie Emélie Namarielle,” the first Farasee spoke again.
I hated my name on his tongue. Hated how he said it with suchpossession.
Like he owned me.
Like I was hisdog.
The priest stood with his chin lifted, his seven wing pairs spread open behind him, the sandy feathers flapping in the softwind. Like all the Farasees, his perfectly white robes covered him from neck to sandaled feet. Arrogance sharpened his jawline. Pride burned in those hazel eyes. Cruelty curled his lips.
“I’ll admit you’ve done well. What with evading us for...” He looked to the gigantic brute floating to his right. The one who looked like the image of every female angel’s personal Hèls. “How long has Asarah Anathelle had us searching for this one, Tavaziah?”
The bald-headed idiot grinned, tilting his head as if he were actually thinking about it. While Tavaziah pondered, I subtly dropped my left hand to the ground, letting my fingers sink into the small layer of dirt.
“Too long, Nunèzu. Seven centuries toolong.” His dark eyes flickered to me. “Although...” Those pools of horror slid down my frame. “I can’t say it wasn’t worth the chase.”
My nostrils flared. Disgusting ogres.
Panic flooded my bloodstream. Stars, I needed Papi so badly.
How was I going to get out of this?
“I am glad,” Farasee Tavaziah said. “Wewon’t be bringing her. Isn’t that right, Dyabèssa?”
