The beginnings of a plan

Panic bubbles in my throat, slow, rising, sickening. My wings.

I hear the shing of his sword being drawn out its sheath too fast. Frantically, I swing around, suddenly all too aware I can't feel anything on my back, save for an unnatural lightness that is heavier than any weight. Sweat pools on my palms.

"Elris?" I prompt unsteadily, attempting to keep the panic from my voice, wiping my hands discreetly on my thighs, trying not to notice the absence of my wings in my lengthening shadow. "What have you done with my wings?"

Elris lets out a hearty laugh, clutching his stomach as he throws back his head as if it were a joke that only he knew.

"It's nothing my Queen, for you see-" He is quickly cut off.

Ithuriel is in front of me now, brandishing his sleek sword with furious contempt. His eyes are flaming, and so is his hair, coiling and wreathing in the air as though it were possessed by a thousand tiny snakes. A faint glow surrounds him, radiating his wrath- the wrath of a warrior. Igor attempts to step in, but quickly halts, twisting his hands together in distress.

"Whatever you've done, I'm giving you five seconds to undo it before I use your guts for my next war banner," Ithuriel growls, seething. He thrusts his sword forward, lifting up Elris' bearded chin with the sharpened point.

"One."

Elris begins to visibly sweat.

"Two."

"Now, now," Elris soothes, putting up his hands with a smile, but there is a panic in his eyes. A breeze blows up around us, but I barely feel it.

"I would never dare to harm the Queen. If she would just take off that necklace, you shall see there is no need for that sword, dear Ithuriel." Elris smiles shakily, the creases of his face becoming more pronounced and cracked with the soot that smears his rugged form. He nods to me.

"Go on," he urges. Regardless, Ithuriel does not lower the sword. Instead, he glances round, the snaking coils of his hair lowering, the glow subsiding. I give him a little smile, trying not to think of the daunting possibility that my wings do not come back. It would not be the first time a forger's work has failed.

"It's okay," I assure him, reaching slowly behind my neck to undo the tiny clasp. My shaky fingers fumble over it for a moment, and I strain to hide my dread. Then, the latch comes loose and- a gust of wind ruffles my feathers and I breathe a sigh of release, feeling the weight returning once more. Just to be certain, I stretch out my sets of wings, relishing the breeze that upturns the golden tips of every feather.

"See?" Elris points out, taking a hefty step back from the sword. Quickly, he wipes his palms on his grubby apron, and gestures with a nod of his head. "Enchanted that with the deepest magic, specially for you. A vampire wouldn't know you were an angel even if you wed and married him," I look down at my hand. Even in the dark, the pendant pulses with an ominous glow. I wonder briefly how any of it could be possible. How could an angel's wings, not to mention two in my case, be hidden by such a small object?

I clutch it in my hand protectively, suddenly scared of losing it. Elris has given me a chance, and I know I must take it. I look to Igor. His face is grim and unreadable. For a moment, he stands there lifeless, his crimson robes being tugged lightly in the breeze. He may have just been presented with the greatest leverage over the vampires possible, but the only trouble is, I'm the one controlling it- and in his eyes, that is the most dangerous thing imaginable.

"This is perfect- with this we could infiltrate the city of Sezeria, we could do anything there and the vampires would have no idea! Elris you are a genius!" I exclaim, half tempted to latch myself onto the bear-like man and grip him in a hug.

"Igor, may I-"

Igor doesn't let me finish.

"Meet with the rest of council in the morning, we will discuss it then," he sighs at last, shooting a sharp look at Elris, who takes it with a satisfied grin. I tip my head politely, fighting the smile that is spreading like a wildfire on my face. With a great 'whoosh', Igor alights into the darkness, his robes trailing behind him like waves of silky blood. The stars and twinkling lights of homes are momentarily blotted out by the span of his great wings, casting us for a brief while in an impenetrable shadow. Elris turns to me.

"Good luck, my Queen, I know you can convince them," he winks, and then giving me one final grin, alights into the sky after Igor, his metal wing clicking as the cogs turn in unison. For a moment I stand, letting the coolness of the night wash over my skin. The sounds of the chirping crickets eases my breath, and somewhere in the night, a fox screams. I tuck the pendant into my clothes, trying to not think of the behemoth task ahead of me.

"Whatever shall I do with you, young miss Queen?" Ithuriel jokes, softly. He puts an arm around my waist and pulls me into him, resting his chin gently on the top of my head. For once, I let myself lean against him as he runs his hands in soothing circles on my lower back. I can't entirely tell whether he's doing it to calm himself down, or me. Hazily, I note that his sword is back in his sheath. I laugh breathily against his chest.

"At least I didn't threaten anyone with a sword." At this he chuckles.

"At least you didn't do that, yes. Good to know the council have instilled some manners into you." His long hair tickles my nose and I sniff, pulling away. I look at him intently.

"If I manage to pull this off, if they let me spy in the vampire court, say you'll come with me." I plea. Ithuriel sighs and pushes back a strand of hair from my face absently. There is a look in his eyes that I can't quite pronounce, a faint twinkle or longing for something that isn't there. He smiles softly.

"If Elris has another magic pendant in his bag or some magical device that makes me an awful lot less angel, of course I will come with you. But I still think you should be careful with this. You know what the vampires are like as much as I do. If one of them finds out you are the Queen of the race they've despised for generations, I can't imagine what they'd do to you." Pressing my lips together, I look shamefully at my feet. Obviously I knew this, but hearing it said aloud seemed to grate at me more than I'd care to admit. To say I wasn't being at least slightly rash with this would be the understatement of the year. But this was my opportunity to do something, and I had to make it work. As the Queen of the angels, a young one albeit, it is my soul duty.

"Give me tonight," I conclude, glancing back up shyly. "If the plan I give to the council doesn't suit you, then you win, and we'll call it off." Once again that evening, our eyes lock and a curious tingle runs down my spine.

"Please, Ithuriel?" I beg, "Otherwise I might just have to threaten you with a sword." I laugh jokingly, chiming the sword at my hip in mock warning. 

He breathes a long sigh.

An unspoken air wavers between us, and I shiver as he steps forward, feeling the warmth of his body cut through the cold air, seeping slowly into my skin. His fingers run down my arm, raising the hairs against my skin, sending a shudder trembling through me from a mixture of cold and the warmth of skin. For a brief second, Ithuriel's lips part then, as briefly as they opened, they close, and he smiles to himself, shaking his head.

"Fine, but if the council don't see it fit, they will overrule you. You know they have the power to do so. Until then, goodnight, Queen Serena,"