Page 56 of Even Angels fall
I was torn between wanting for the ground to open and swallow me whole or just melt against him and that can’t happen.
First, because he freaking pinned me to a cross like a martyr, and second because if I don’t find a way to kill him, I’m pretty sure my father will follow me to the end of the world.
I wait another minute before I finally decide to stand only for my eyes to fall upon my plate. A quick view of the counter informs me that Elhyor’s plate is still here, too.
Typical.
Well, he did clean everything he used to cook, so maybe it’s not too bad to have to clean two plates and a few pieces of cutlery.
I could leave everything in the sink but I feel bad for the kitchen team who would arrive in the morning to a sink full of dirty plates so I make quick work of everything and slip outside of the kitchen and up the stairs that lead to the cathedral.
In the silence of the night, the cathedral looks so solemn that I almost feel the need to sit at one of the pews.
But who would I pray to?
Aléa’s gods? They’re long gone. If there were any, they wouldn’t have left the dimension to destroy itself and collapse on Earth the way it did three hundred years ago.
Earth’s gods? There are too many. My people might have come as angels, but religion was different all over the world before we arrived. Now not so much. If their gods were real, would they have let that happen? Let their beliefs be replaced by false idols? Let humans offer themselves as offering to vengeful angels who look pure on the outside but are so far from it on the inside?
I’ve zoned out and lost track of time, but I’m reminded that I’m not alone when I hear the sound of a bird. It’s a pigeon that seems to have gotten lost and wandered inside Notre Dame. For a second, I believe it might be one of my father’s men but the bird is picking at something that looks like a small cockroach, and there are a lot of things my father’s men are good at, but they would never lower themselves at that.
It takes a few seconds for my heart to stop beating like I discovered that someone was spying on me.
I need to get to my room. I need to rest and I need to prepare for what’s to come.
Because in two days I’ll be a married woman and I’ll get my best friend back.
34
Angélique
The next day passes in a blur. Elhyor keeps his promise to give me new clothes.
They look nice and maybe a bit too fancy to my taste. They’re also not the ergonomic kind I’m used to, and I feel it already because they don’t hug my skin the same, and they also don’t let my body breathe the same.
To make it short, they look nice but make me sweat like a pig.
I might exaggerate a bit, but it’s how they make me feel.
And don’t get me started on the underwear Elhyor picked—if he’s the one who really picked those lacy scraps of fabrics.
Oh, yes, they look extra nice, but I’ve been wearing that thong for half a day and it’s like the thing has tried to part my buttcheeks even more. I’m pretty sure it has even started to chafe.
Maybe it was made just to torture me.
I wouldn’t put it past Elhyor.
They were also accompanied by three perfectly white wedding dresses. They’re gorgeous and without even trying them on, I know they’re going to fit me perfectly, but they’re so white that they hurt my eyes.
I know that wearing white is a custom on earth on their wedding day. Virginal white they call it here, and as much as I fit the description, it’s also supposed to describe purity.
And my body might be pure according to the wedding rules, but my mind is so far from that purity.
I mean, who would call me pure when I fucked my fingers for most of a week with my future husband in mind?
Also, who would call me pure when I tried to murder said future husband just two days ago?
Yes, not the purest bride over here.
