Chapter 1
Four angels stood before Zaphkiel, fighting amongst themselves like children instead of the fearsome commanders they were. Each of them commanded one of the four watchtowers at the border to Hell, and they all demanded more soldiers stationed at their post. Even if that meant the rest of the towers would be less guarded and open for an attack from the demons of Hell.
The commanders didn’t care if the demons invaded Heaven as long as it wasn’t the fault of their own tower.
Zaphkiel sat quietly behind his desk, barely listening to the angels and their endless bickering. He knew he should pay attention to them as one prince of Heaven, but he couldn’t be bothered.
Everything they said, he had heard before.
The loud voices of the commanders made his usual giant study feel small and crowded. It had been a mistake to let them all see him at the same time. Zaphkiel made a mental note to remind Nakir to not make that mistake again.
A sudden loud knock on his door finally made the commanders shut up for a second. One of them turned to Zaphkiel with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you expecting someone, Crown Prince?”
“Only Prince, Commander,” Zaphkiel stood up, “My uncle hasn’t made a decision yet.”
“Only a matter of time,” the oldest commander muttered, tucking her grey wings closer to her body.
Zaphkiel ignored him and said to the person on the other side of the door, “You may enter,” and instantly regretted his words when he saw who walked inside.
Tarwan strolled inside as if he owned the place with his hands crossed around his back. The commanders moved to the side in such haste that their wings bumped into each other to get out of Tarwan’s path.
“I come bringing gifts, cousin,” Tarwan said with the mischievous gleam in his blue eyes that Zaphkiel despised because nothing good ever came from it. “Oh, or I guess gift is more accurate.
“Leave us,” Zaphkiel told the commanders. The warriors almost fell over each other to be the first to get out and far away from Tarwan. Zaphkiel wished he could follow them.
“Don’t look so miserable, Crown Prince,” Tarwan eyes narrowed. “I told you I brought something for you.”
“Eavesdropping is considered rude.”
“It’s not my fault your walls are thin, cousin,” Tarwan mumbled and walked up to one of the large windows overlooking a balcony. “Who did you bribe to get this view? You can see all the way to Hell from here.”
Zaphkiel rolled his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. “This is as far from hell as we can get.”
“It was a joke, darling,” Tarwan said dramatically, throwing himself into one chair.” You should try it sometime.”
“Did you actually bring me a gift, or did you only come here to interrupt my meeting with the commanders?” Zaphkiel asked.
Tarwan sat up straighter in the chair with the mischievous gleam back in his eyes. “This was a one-stone-two-birds kind of situation, if I’m being honest,” he chuckled.
Zaphkiel held his hand forward. “Hand it over so I can get on with the rest of my day.”
Tarwan took one look at Zaphkiel’s outstretched hand and smiled wide. “She won’t fit in your hand, cousin.”
There was no way Tarwan had said that. He knew precisely what Zaphkiel’s opinions were about slaves, which was probably why he sat in the chair tapping his foot on the floor in what Zaphkiel only could assume was anticipation.
Probably for a reaction, which meant Zaphkiel wouldn’t give it to him. So he leaned back and crossed his arm over his chest, “Well, bring her in.”
If Tarwan was disappointed in Zaphkiel’s calmness, he did an excellent job hiding it. Only a slight tension in his jaw, which hadn’t been there a moment before, showed his frustration.
It was always like this with his cousin. Every interaction between them had been a game of who had the upper hand. It didn’t matter if it was in politics, fighting, or dancing. Tarwan always crossed the line to see how Zaphkiel would react. But this time, his cousin had taken it too far.
“You heard the man,” Tarwan laughed.
Two guards walked inside the study, dragging a demon between them. Her legs were chained together, and her arms bound behind her back. When the guards dropped her, she collapsed down on her knees. Her naked body was covered in cuts and bruises. But that wasn’t the worst part.
Her wings were missing. Where there were supposed to be large dark wings was nothing.
Zaphkiel stood up and walked around his desk. He pushed the two guards and walked behind the demon. It was almost impossible to not let his emotions show.
The two wounds on her back were still bleeding. The only thing left of her wings were two ragged stumps. Zaphkiel leaned forward to pull away a lock of the demon’s hair stuck in one of the wounds.
That’s when he noticed his hands were shaking. He quickly glanced at Tarwan, who watched his hands with a satisfied grin.
When Zaphkiel pulled the hair out, the demon hissed in pain and tried to crawl away from him, but Tarwan stood up and blocked her path.
“Aren’t you going to thank me, cousin?” Tarwan asked innocently as if he wasn’t aware that Zaphkiel wanted to rip his wings off. “She cost me a fortune.”
Zaphkiel took a deep breath before he asked, “Why did you take her wings?”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“Not to me.”
Tarwan leaned back against the desk and placed one foot under the demon’s chin, tilting her head back. Zaphkiel swore when the movement made more of her hair get stuck in the wounds.
Tarwan looked at the demon when he answered Zaphkiel. “So she knows she’ll never make the flight back home and will live the rest of her pathetic life serving Heaven.” He lowered his foot, and her head fell forward as his eyes moved over her naked body. “But if you rather want her to serve me personally, I’m more than happy to keep her.”
Tarwan had taken his little game too far this time. His cousin had presented Zaphkiel with an impossible choice. Become a slave owner or leave the demon in the hands of a lunatic.
“Get out of here, Tarwan,” Zaphkiel growled.
His cousin shrugged his shoulder as if Zaphkiel’s rage didn’t bother him. “Let me know if you need help training her, cousin.” Tarwan patted Zaphkiel’s shoulder as he walked past him toward the door. “I would be delighted to share my knowledge with a fellow demon-tamer.”
Before Zaphkiel could react, Tarwan had already closed the door behind him. His cousin’s last words had surprised him.
Demon-tamer.
Was that another word for slave-owner that he hadn’t heard before, or did it mean something else? There was no time to dwell on that now because the demon would die if he didn’t do something. Fast.
“Nakir, come quickly,” he yelled and let out a breath of relief when he heard the hidden door to his private quarters open from the inside, and Nakir stumbled out.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with that guy?” he asked and fell to his knees in front of the demon and gently lifted her face. “How long has she been unconscious?”
“I think she was awake when they brought her in,” Zaphkiel said, quickly gathering her long hair to braid it.
“You think?” Nakir scratched his short dark hair. “She’s dying, Zaphkiel. I don’t think she cares if she looks a bit messy.”
“Huh?”
“Why are you braiding her hair?” Nakir handed Zaphkiel a leather tie from one of his pockets. “Use this.”
“Her hair got stuck in the wounds. We need to get it out of the way. And we need a healer.”
Nakir nodded and got up from the floor. “Who do you want?”
“Not any of the royal ones. They might work for Tarwan.”
“What about Lailah?” Nakir asked.
Zaphkiel shook his head. “She lives on the other side of Heaven these days, close to the border. There is no way she’ll make it all the way up here in time.”
Nakir watched Zaphkiel with worried eyes lifting the demon, careful not to touch the wounds on her back. “I might know someone,” Nakir said hesitantly.
“Then get him here now because she is not dying today.”
“Are you sure we should save her?” Nakir’s voice was barely a whisper but froze Zaphkiel in his steps.
“I know she’s a demon, but we can’t let her die. Not after what they did to her.”
“They took her wings, Zaphkiel.” Nakir said, his voice trembling. “Are you sure she wants to live a life stuck on the ground? To never feel the wind beneath her wings or the freedom of soaring through the sky?”
Zaphkiel looked down at the demon in his arms. Her eyes were closed, but her face was tense with pain. As if not even being asleep gave her relief from the torture she had endured.
She could have been mistaken for an angel if it weren’t for her pointy ears that gave away her demon heritage. Yet, despite her cuts and bruises, she had an ethereal beauty to her.
“Zaphkiel?” Nakir’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“We’re not giving up on her, my friend.”
