I should have known the Academy would come calling eventually. You can't skip divine lectures, dodge holy exams, and recruit half the student body into your illicit harem without raising a few eyebrows. Honestly, I'm surprised they waited this long. The letter had arrived on obsidian parchment, laced in divine wax, and smelled faintly of sandalwood and thinly veiled threats.
"Your continued absence from lectures has been noted. Failure to report by sundown shall result in expulsion."
And in tiny, handwritten scrawl at the bottom:
"Behind the gardens. Midnight. Come alone."
Naturally, I was going to bring company.
Salem was less than thrilled.
"You're sure you want to go back there?" he asked, arms crossed in the Velvet Court's briefing chamber. His expression was a delicious cocktail of concern and resignation—the kind a mother might wear before watching her child juggle flaming daggers.
"I left unfinished gossip, half a dozen tailored outfits, and at least three deeply confused sugar daddies behind. I need closure."
"You need therapy."
"I'll pencil it in after my new nation is finished."
I picked Elian and Lysaria to accompany me, mostly because they looked good in uniform and even better out of it. Salem, meanwhile, would continue his investigation into the church's secret chamber. The chamber beneath the ossuary had revealed signs of ancient spells, the sort that buzzed in your bones and whispered obscenities in Old Celestial. Whatever the hell that meant.
"If I'm not back by dawn," I said, fastening my velvet choker, just in case, "avenge me with something tasteful."
"Cecil—"
"And don't touch my wine stash. I've counted the bottles," I remarked before I flew out the door.
Returning to the Academy was like crawling back to an ex with excellent abs and terrible boundaries.
The gates loomed just as tall, flanked by two sentient statues who glared as if remembering every prank I ever pulled. Students bustled past, shuffling scrolls and muttering prayers. The air reeked of sanctimony and overbrewed tea.
I strutted in like I owned the place, which, in a spiritual sense, I might have. Elian and Lysaria flanked me, disguised in borrowed uniforms. Elian looked angelic, Lysaria looked bored. I looked like a heretical prince ready to redecorate the place in wine-stained silk.
"Where's your crest, student?" a stern cleric, with what I could only swear was a triple chin, barked as I passed.
"Where's your jawline?" I said blankly before I swished away, hips full of rebellion.
Lectures were exactly as I remembered, dull, droning, and devoid of lube. Divine Theory. Angelic Ascension. Morality in Magical Conduits. I sat in the back, doodling obscene sketches of my instructors and passing flirty notes to Elian under the table.
"If I have to hear the word 'sacrament' one more time," I whispered, "I will scream in Enochian."
Lysaria rolled their eyes. "You should be paying attention."
"I already know how to sin. This is just bureaucratic fluff."
The only notable event was when the Arch-Dean himself walked in mid-sermon and stared directly at me. His eyes narrowed. My smile widened. The room grew cold.
Then he left.
Drama queen.
Midnight.
The Academy gardens were a maze of moonlit hedgerows and whispering marble. Statues of long-dead saints watched in silence as I crept past with Elian and Lysaria lurking nearby. They were hidden beneath the cloaks I had enchanted with glamor—perfectly undetectable unless they sneezed. Which Elian promptly did.
"Sorry," he whispered. "Pollen."
"Try not to get us all murdered."
The meeting spot lay beneath the weeping angel statue—the one I'd once defiled during a drunken dare. Ah, memories.
She emerged from the shadows like a sin given form. Tall. Curved. Dressed in flowing black satin that shimmered like oil in moonlight. Her lips were painted blood-dark, her eyes rimmed in ash.
"Cecil Valen, I can't believe you actually came...like really?" she said blankly.
"That's me. Devilishly charming. Occasionally divine."
She stepped closer. The air around her thrummed like distant thunder. Magic, or something older.
"You've disrupted a very careful balance."
"Wasn't balanced very well if I could topple it with thigh highs and heels."
Her gloved hand caressed my jaw. "Come closer."
My pulse did not quicken. I'd danced with worse demons.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now."
"Because I smell divine and die dramatically."
She smiled.
And then, the shadows moved.
Well shit.
Six robed figures lunged from behind the hedges, weapons gleaming with runes. One hurled a chain of light. Another raised a staff alight with holy flame. The air crackled with power and bad intentions.
"Finally," I sighed, drawing my dagger. "I was starting to think this would be another smut scene."
They jumped at me in unison.
I spun, ducked beneath the arcing chain, and kicked one of them square in the chest. My heel left a divine imprint. Another swung from behind—too slow. I twisted, grabbing their wrist and slamming it against my knee. The staff fell. I took it.
The next attacker came from the left, fists glowing with holy light. I parried with the staff, feinted low, then elbowed them in the temple. One down. Or at least dazed.
They moved in a flurry. Runes lit up. Chanting began.
"Elian, Lysaria, stay out of this," I barked, breathing hard.
A fist caught my jaw. Stars danced. I retaliated with a flurry of punches, each more theatrical than necessary. My coat flared like a cape. My smirk was bloodied but intact.
Two grabbed my arms. I twisted free, only for the woman in black to gesture. A shimmer passed through the air—binding spell. Invisible cords coiled around my limbs.
I hit the ground, shoulders burning. Someone straddled me, pressed a blade to my throat.
"Yield."
"Only if you buy me dinner."
More pressure. My arms were bound now, pinned behind my back with holy manacles. Divine iron. So cliché.
I turned my head toward Elian and Lysaria, both crouched in the shadows, worried.
"Fall back to base," I said, voice steady. "That's an order."
Lysaria hesitated. Elian shook his head.
"Go," I repeated. "I'll be fine. Probably."
They vanished, cloaks fluttering like specters.
Darkness swallowed me.
When I awoke, the air tasted like incense and judgment.
Great.
I was seated on a stone dais, wrists still bound. Pillars of divine marble stretched into vaulted heights. Eyes watched from above—dozens of robed figures.
At the far end stood the Church's second-in-command.
And The Council.
A sly smile crossed my lips. Just as planned.