As soon as he mentioned my wing, I realized there was something that felt oddly constrictive and suffocating on my back. I twisted my head, trying to look over my shoulder, and saw that my broken wing had been neatly folded up and bound.
“No, you can’t fly yet.” Belial’s tone was dry. “Seriously. There was enough damage that you might never fly again if you don’t let it heal.”
He got up and poured me a glass of water, which I managed to drink without lifting myself off of my stomach. “And Sarai?” I gasped, draining the glass without stopping for a breath.
Nothing hurt in my abdomen, and I’d kept up my shield, but if the damage was that bad…
Belial tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and took the empty glass. “She’s perfectly fine. You were just in shock, and your body couldn’t take anymore. What you should be doing is resting.”
I let my head drop and cradled it on my arm. The last thing I wanted to do right now was sleep more, especially with so much to be done. “I’ve been asleep for three days. I’m tired of being in bed, and we have a lot to clean up.”
“How can you be tired of it if you weren’t aware you were here?” Belial asked, sounding annoyingly reasonable.
The healer crept forward again.
“I’ve done all I can,” she told me softly. She had a soft, piping voice, the voice of a child. I felt awful that they’d needed to call her in for me when so many other demons needed help now. How many healers had died, or were up to their eyeballs in gore, that we’d needed to call in children, barely more than apprentices themselves? “And magic will only do so much, especially against a wound made by a Prince. You’ll be wearing the splint for the next several weeks, Lady Wrath. They’ve all made it very clear that you’ll try to slip off the wrappings before you’re healed, so I’ll tell you now: if you try to fly before it’s finished healing, you’ll be crippled all your life. I recommend that this is a good time to develop patience.”
I just stared at the young healer as she placed the back of her hand against my forehead, seeming satisfied with the result, then bowed and took her leave.
“She’s definitely going places someday with an attitude like that,” I said, sliding up onto my knees. My splinted wing felt awkward and ungainly, but most of the sharp pain was gone, leaving a mild but tolerable ache behind instead.
“Yes, that’s why we chose her. The splint stays on, angry angel. Now is not the time for bravado.” Belial gave me another glass of water and made me drink it slowly. “The others are doing recon right now. Dis is in total chaos; it’ll take time to re-organize our efforts.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, extremely conscious of my wing. “But Lucifer and Vyra-”
“No.” Belial took both of my hands in one of his, gliding his thumb along the top of my hand. “That’s why I’m telling you this. We can’t just rush into chasing them down, and they’ll tell you the same damn thing. We need to wait, Melisande.”
I gazed back into his deadly serious eyes, my stomach churning. Sit back and do nothing? Vyra could be-
My mind stuttered over a host of terrible things, words I didn’t even want to think. They were all too awful to consider. “But-”
He shook his head. “I know it’s not what you want to hear. Believe me, I’d be the first one out there if we knew we could win.” Belial’s eyes hardened again. “We can’t win if we’re unprepared. We can’t win if you’re injured, or if the Sword is broken, or any number of other things. Now is not the time to let wrath take over. Cooler heads will prevail here.”
Despite myself, a tiny smile touched my lips. “Letting wrath take the backseat? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“I didn’t either,” Belial said, still stroking my hands. “But even I’m willing to see when my way might be the wrong way. Azazel has the right of it this time.”
When even Belial was willing to hold back instead of marching in sword first, maybe it was time to re-evaluate my method of doing things.
Still, all I could see when I closed my eyes was Vyra’s limp form in Satan’s claws, the flat emptiness in Lucifer’s eyes as the red soul-bonds on his body overtook him, body and mind.
“Fine. But I’m not going to lay in bed all day. Let’s see what damage the Nightside took and go from there.” I climbed off the bed and strode to the window. I couldn’t say I was feeling invigorated, exactly, but the infusion of magic that had gone into healing parts of my wing had been like a jolt of pure energy to my otherwise-tired body.
I stopped at the window, bracing my hands on the sill. The willow in my garden had been blown over sideways, the long, dangling leaves shredded into lace. A gaping hole had been left behind in the middle of the courtyard, with the willow’s tangled, pale roots exposed.
“It could’ve been worse,” I said, biting my lip. “It didn’t break the wall.”
Belial joined me, rubbing the small of my back. “Yes, the wall is intact. The only structural damage is the crack in the front of the arena, but the Chainlings are working on it. Most of them survived the attack.”
I abandoned the window, heading for the door. “Most of them? What happened while we were gone?”
Belial’s face darkened and a line appeared between his eyebrows. “Mammon’s men happened. They broke through the barrier Leviathan’s Witches made and fought their way as far as the Sixth Circle.”
I had the distinct feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me, and that I wasn’t going to like it. “Why go so far?”
Belial looked down at me as we walked towards the stairs. I reached out and touched the shoulder of a Chainling as we passed, hoping they understood my gratitude. There were many things I didn’t understand about the Chainlings and their religion, but after they’d attached themselves to me, they’d been faithful through the worst of times.
And now they’d fought and died on my behalf. “Why? Why my people?” I repeated.
Belial shook his head, sending locks of dark hair flying over his shoulders. “Mammon’s Sin Eaters were looking for you,” he said flatly.
My lungs froze in my chest. I was the weak link in the chain binding us all; if someone killed me, there was a good chance the alliance between Lucifer, Azazel, and Belial would fall apart.
Not to mention there would be one less person in Hell capable of using the Sword of Light.
It only made sense that they’d want me to die, and the siege on Satan would’ve been the perfect time for it. It was only because I’d been in Blackchapel and out in the wastelands that I’d been spared being cornered and murdered in my own arena.
We descended the stairs and I looked up at the wall and the crooked doors. The door nearest the crack was nothing but splintered wood in the middle. I’d barely noticed while I was in shock from the pain of my injuries. “They breached the arena, didn’t they?”
Belial nodded tersely. “They made it inside… and met Haru and a lot of angry little cultists.”
The obsidian floor of my arena was still wet, puddles gleaming on the floor. The Chainlings had mopped up the blood and removed the bodies… or not.