Caprion's Wings (19 page)

But when he thought of the
demon in the crypts, the battle in the Matriarch’s chamber, his
body hummed with strength. Yes, he enjoyed facing down the monster.
He would kill another demon if given the chance. That realization
left him cold and conflicted.
But Moss
isn’t like that demon
. She had warned him
to stay away from that monster. She had even saved his life down in
the crypts. She was just a girl, the same age as his little sister,
trapped in an evil world with no way out. How could he condemn her
for that?

He wondered how many other children
waited for death in those underground dungeons. He couldn’t quite
fathom what his race had done. “It’s sick,” he said bluntly, “what
our kind does to these children. They are too young. Too
defenseless.”

The Matriarch raised one pale brow.
“Too young?” she asked wryly. “By thirteen, most of the Sixth Race
can wield a dagger better than a grown man. She might appear
fragile, but give her an inch and she will slit your throat.” The
Matriarch glided across the room, pausing near the sleeping girl.
Caprion watched her warily. “Who knows how many lives she’s already
taken,” the Matriarch said softly, her eyes dim with memory. “In
the War, the Sixth Race would send children like this into camps.
They pretended to be orphans and beggars. Fools would take pity on
them, and those children would slip into the highest ranks, killing
captains and generals in their own beds. Once, half a squadron of
Dracians—forty soldiers—were killed in one night by such a child.
Bled out in their sleep.”

Caprion felt chilled. He glanced at
Moss again. He knew the Sixth Race were deceptive. They were master
manipulators. And yet he thought of the small brown lizard that had
climbed up her arm. How gently she had held it. Her sudden,
fleeting smile. She was soft. She was not meant to be a
killer.

“But you are not truly concerned with
all those prisoners in our dungeons,” the Matriarch murmured, a sly
smile crossing her lips. “No, you only chase after this one. My
question, then, is why her?” she asked. “Why is she so
different?”

Caprion shifted, suddenly
uncomfortable. He hadn’t told anyone about his time with Moss in
the dungeons or their secret pact. He owed her his wings. More than
that, she was the first to look upon him openly without judgment.
She had accepted his wingless state, preferring he remain that
way.
Of course she would, she’s a
demon,
his thoughts murmured darkly. But
no, her reaction to him was more innocent than that. She trusted
him because of his weakness, because he couldn’t hurt her. Now that
he had this power, he didn’t want to abuse it.

“Yes,” the Matriarch murmured, reading
his silence. She hovered next to the chaise, looking down at the
wounded girl, her voice dripping with false empathy. “I see it now.
This vulnerable thing, all alone in the dark, and you, there to
save her. That must be why the One Star picked you. Your noble
heart.” The Matriarch reached out as though to touch Moss, then
paused and withdrew her hand. “But your heart is
misplaced.”

Caprion stiffened. Finally, he said,
“I made a vow to her. She helped me and I promised her
freedom.”

The Matriarch turned her pale eyes
upon him. Her vibration changed, washing over his skin like cold
water. “A song-vow?” she asked tightly. “Such things are sacred to
our race. Why would you do that?”

He tilted his head defiantly. “What’s
done is done. Without her, I would likely be dead or still wingless
and lost. She risked her life to help me find my wings. I must keep
my word.”

The Matriarch glared at him, all
pretense vanishing from her face. “The One Star created you! The
One Star showed you the demon and manifested your wings, not this
child! Never forget that!” she snapped. “Seraphim are only born for
one reason. They are heralds of the One Star, but never the bearers
of good news. Always, they appear before a great change or a great
danger.”

Caprion frowned. The Matriarch turned
away, pacing back across the length of the room, her white robes
flowing around her. “A looming night is upon us. Your presence
confirms it for me. As I slept, I saw darkness gathering over the
mainland. It is a vision of the future, of what’s to come.” She let
out a heavy, irritated breath. “We will have need of you soon. I
fear the Harpy race cannot stand against this shadow, scattered as
we are. You cannot become distracted by this one little girl. Your
people need you and I do as well.”

Caprion’s jaw tightened. “Then allow
me to fly her over the ocean. I will come back.”

“We can’t let her return to her
people,” the Matriarch said. Then her patience slipped. “You naive
boy! She would reveal all of our secrets! But of course, you’ve
never seen them at war. You don’t know their tactics. None of you
were alive back then. You can’t possibly understand the danger—an
entire race bred from destruction, conceived in the heart of
chaos!” Her words echoed off the walls. Her face twisted, a mixture
of sorrow and fury. “We take no chances. If the Grandmasters learn
of our weakened state, they’ll set sail for this island
immediately. No obstacle or act of nature could stop
them.”

Caprion shifted. He felt strangely
chastised. The Matriarch’s words continued to echo. Her age and
experience seemed to outweigh the room; she had lived for hundreds
of years and known countless seraphim before him. She had witnessed
the fall of Aerobourne….

“You cannot trust her,”
the Matriarch murmured. “Your type had a name back in the
War:
sympathizers.
Naive fools who fell under the assassins’ spell. Your heart
is too open, and now you’re ensnared. Don’t you know it’s a demon’s
trap?” The Matriarch smiled grimly. “They act weak, tortured,
afraid—but they don’t
feel
these things, Caprion. They don’t experience
emotions the way we do. They’re incapable of it, and so they play
every side, every angle, until you drop your guard. Oh, it’s so
easy to love your enemy when they lie whimpering at your feet!” She
spat. “Some day she will try to kill you and she just might
succeed. Violence is her nature. She’s a demon, Caprion. Just like
the one you killed.”

Caprion stared at the Matriarch, then
turned numbly to the window. He gazed out at the large garden in
thought. Something about her words gave him pause, and he
considered them carefully. Finally, he said, “Florentine told me
about the demon I killed. She said it used to be a man—an assassin.
You knew him once, I assume?”

The Matriarch remained
silent.

Caprion finished his thought. “Did you
trust him? Did he…lower your guard?”

He could feel the tension building
behind him. The Matriarch’s wings glimmered, spanning almost
twenty-five feet, flickering in the corner of his vision. Then they
vanished again. “That is none of your concern,” she said
coldly.

Silence fell once more. He realized,
suddenly, that the Matriarch wouldn’t let him leave this room. His
queen had lured him here to change his mind, to convince him to
join her side. She didn’t trust Moss, and she didn’t trust his
intentions. And perhaps she had good reason to. Perhaps she had
seen this before.

But he couldn’t deny his connection to
Moss. His eyes traveled down to the small, ragged, dark-haired
girl. She hadn’t stirred once in her sleep. He thought of her
cloudy left eye and undeniable tenderness swelled within him. He
didn’t care what the Matriarch thought she knew about demons. He
couldn’t leave Moss, but how could he save her? The Matriarch would
never let them go freely. He knew, deep inside, that his queen
would rather see him dead than expose their race to the
Unnamed.

But if Moss returned to the dungeons,
Sumas would torment her. Of that, he was certain.

“What of my song-vow?” he asked,
changing the subject. “You would let it go unfulfilled?”

“It shall torture you ‘til the end of
your days,” the Matriarch replied. “Your own doing, of course. What
were you thinking, activating such a spell?”

He glanced at her but didn’t bother to
answer. She wouldn’t understand. He and Moss shared more than just
a spell. Meeting her in the dungeon had changed him. He made his
vow to honor that, but he suspected the Matriarch didn’t know a
thing about honor or mercy.

“You can’t kill her,” he said darkly.
“Kill her and you lose me. I won’t lift a finger to help
you.”

The Matriarch considered him with hard
eyes. “You would abandon your own race?”

He returned her gaze coolly. “I will
not murder children.”

He could see her thoughts calculating,
weighing out her options. “Caprion,” she finally said, her voice
adopting a gentle edge. “You are young. Give yourself a few years
to understand….”

He cut her off. “A few years under
Sumas’ command won’t make me accept this. I could never follow my
brother. I will hunt the demons, but I will never hurt someone
weaker than myself. This girl,” he gestured to Moss, “is far from a
threat. Let me take her back to the mainland. Let me fulfill my
vow.”

The Matriarch’s eyes turned sharp,
probing him for weaknesses. He stared her down, hoping she saw his
resolve. He meant his words. If anything happened to Moss, he would
lose faith in his own people. The Harpies spoke of honor, the proud
history of the First Race and their duty to the world. But when he
looked to their actions, he didn’t see it. He didn’t see any of
it.

“How about this, then,” she said
smoothly. “We keep the girl alive. Eventually, when we have dealt
with this rising darkness, you may return her to the mainland. In
the meantime, you will stay on the island and learn the ways of a
seraphim.”

Caprion hesitated. “She will be
released,” he said. “She will not live in the dungeons.”

“Don’t press me, child,” the Matriarch
warned.

“I thought we were here to
negotiate.”

“And I am offering you a way out. Stay
with your people and I will keep the girl alive,” she said rigidly.
“Believe it or not, I have your best interests in mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Caprion said
sarcastically.

She glared at him, her temper slipping
once again. “Imagine our people,” she said, sweeping her arm out.
“Imagine your position, Caprion! An entire island of Harpies. If we
free her now, do you think she will stay secret for long? Sumas,
Warden Dahlia, Florentine, and the Madrigal all know. Someone is
bound to talk. And once the city finds out you keep a demon hidden
in your cellar, feeding her scraps from your table, what do you
think will happen?” The Matriarch shook her head. “She is a child
now, but she will become a young woman soon, and then our people
will think you have a perversion, some disease of the mind. You are
a seraphim, Caprion. You have a duty to your race. Our people will
look to you for leadership. This is not the way to lead. You must
protect our people in all ways.”

Caprion paused. Those last
words resonated somewhere deep in his chest, where his Song
resided.
You must protect them.

“What will our people do when they
discover a demon on the loose?” the Matriarch repeated softly.
“They won’t allow her to live.”

And those words left him
cold.

He wavered. His queen pressed him one
last time. “Consider my offer,” she said. “If you decide to go to
the mainland, I will not stop you, but you cannot return. You will
be branded a traitor to our race. I will tell the city the
truth—that you left them for a demon.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or
stay, and the girl stays, and she will not be killed. We will find
a comfortable balance.”

Caprion stared at the Matriarch. He
felt like she had swept the conversation out of his hands. Somehow
she had slipped around his reasoning, explaining consequences that
he couldn’t deny. His Song stirred in his chest, and he knew he
couldn’t turn his back on his own race so easily. Her offer was
tempting. But what of Moss?

“Alive is not enough,” he said. “She
must be protected. If she must be imprisoned, put her in the gilded
jail, far out of the public eye. Please. I cannot leave her in the
dungeons with Sumas.”

The Matriarch raised a brow. Her lips
drew into a thin line. Then, finally, she nodded. “That is
possible,” she said.

Caprion’s eyes fell to Moss. What
would she think of his decision? What if she hated him for it? He
couldn’t expect her to trust him after this. “I need a night to
think about it,” he said quietly. “You will have my answer in the
morning.”

The Matriarch looked mildly surprised.
She obviously wasn’t used to demands. She stared at him for a long
moment, then conceded with another nod of her head. “Fine,” she
said tightly. “Take the girl home if you like. Discuss it with her,
even. I will expect you both here at dawn. Don’t keep me waiting. I
will address the city at midday.” Then she turned away abruptly,
walking back across the room. “Now leave me to prepare my speech.
I’m sure you remember the way out.”

Her dismissal sat heavy on the air.
Caprion turned silently to the chaise and lifted the small girl
into his arms. Then he turned and hurried from the room, gliding
lightly on his wings, her words still ringing in his
ears.