Concerning developments
At Charmaine’s office, what used to be a good time full of banter and laughter changed halfway through the week. He found her at her desk with a grave look on her face, pensive. Reclining against her chair with a hand on her chin, she watched him come in, thin eyes trained on his every move, not a single word in her mouth.
“I take it The Abyss finally called,” he guessed, taking a seat across from her.
“Not exactly.” Her voice was much graver than it’d been in a long while. “We had an emergency meeting last night, which you were explicitly not invited to. Striker was the one who called it.”
He started, hands clasped onto the arms of the chair. Charmaine showed her palm, motioning for him to stay put.
“That’s exactly why he didn’t want you there,” she continued. “Plus, we spoke about you and Justice’s assignment. If it feels orchestrated, it’s because it was. She was partly behind it. We don’t know to what extent, or who’s at the forefront, but this assignment is a test, Nathaniel. One you’re failing.”
That last part was new. His pulse jumped. “Who told you that?” he asked, rushed and coarse, heart hammering into his ribs.
“We can all see it.”
“How am I failing it? I’ve given Aiden everything he could possibly want. I’ve been working on his mental health, looking after him, putting him in his place; how could I possibly be failing this?”
“Look at you.” Her tone was dismissive, eyebrows furrowed deep into her forehead. “You’re barely an angel anymore. Have you noticed that? You look like one of them. You have wings and a halo, but your skin is dull and your holiness is cracking. He’s sapping the good out of you. We thought it was a side effect of the remembrance waters, but it’s not; it was him all along. He’s killing you.”
He closed his eyes to keep from rolling them, jaw set, pulse racing for a different reason now. “Don’t be dramatic; I’m fine, and he’s not like that. You, out of everyone, should know that.”
Charmaine squinted.
“Besides,” Nathaniel continued, “this test I’m supposedly failing at is a lot more important than what I look like right now. Do you know any details about that? Can I turn it around somehow?”
“It’s a test of your true nature. It’s patience and endurance. The way you’re handling it should show your true character. According to Striker, you’re selfish and failing.”
“Striker has an agenda with me; of course he’d say that. I want to know what you think. Am I failing or not?”
“I don’t know enough about it for a proper opinion. You’ve run into obstacles, as we all do, and you’ve found a way around them; that doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. Your dedication and your hard work are not new to me and only paint you in a positive light, unlike the vision Striker has of you.” A hand gesticulated as she spoke, dropping over the arm of the chair right after. “Does he know something I don’t?”
“His prejudice defines him; he’s incapable of giving unbiased accounts or passing fair judgment. You know that. We don’t see eye to eye, which means he’d never give me fair treatment, especially in front of the board.”
Charmaine leaned closer to the desk, both elbows pushing onto the arms of her chair. “Are you lying to me?”
He scowled, blood growing cold. No answer.
“Is there something I should know?” she pushed, a little nicer now.
“Ask the right question.”
Three eyes squinted, sharp as knives. “Do you think Mr. Yorke is below you?”
His jaw set. “Yes.”
The fabric of her dress rustled and moved as she leaned back, a breath leaving her lungs. “You’re failing.”
“He’s not like the others; he disobeys me on purpose. Everything he does is specifically tailored to drive me insane. We’re fine now, and things are going well, but I know that’s not going to last. The first argument we have, he’ll go against my word and purposefully get under my skin, I promise you. I assure you. He was an equal until the moment he proved otherwise.”
“This behavior is obviously part of the test. Do you not see that?”
“Of course I do, and I’ve been dealing with it accordingly. I’ve known that for a while now. I thought the test was to educate him on the laws of Paradise. We both did. You told me to discipline him.”
“I know, I remember, but I wasn’t aware he was a test; there was no way for me to know. I thought he belonged here.”
“He doesn’t?”
A rug was pulled from under his feet. Charmaine stared at him in silence, blue eyes bigger than he’d ever seen them.
“Oh my god, of course he doesn’t belong here. That’s why he’s a test.”
“You were never intended to win this, were you?” she asked, voice low, almost tender. “This isn’t a test; it’s a trick. It was rigged from the start.”
“It couldn’t be rigged; Justice assigned him to me.”
“Perhaps before others got involved. She signed the papers with a real proposal, a just trial, which must’ve been tampered with before reaching you. That’s the only explanation I can come up with.”
“Do you think she knows about Aiden?”
“Yes, but he’s probably not who she thinks he is.”
“Do you think he knows?”
“No; the experiment goes both ways.”
Reeling, he fell back against his seat.
He’d never held Aiden as tightly as he did that night. Aiden slept in his arms, face buried comfortably into his chest, legs loosely intertwined with his own. You don’t belong here. Those words echoed in his mind, squeezing his heart in a fist. You don’t belong here, but I wish you did. A deep breath and cardamom enveloped him entirely. A noose closed tightly around his throat. You don’t belong here, but maybe you should. A sob, mute, buried into the curls of Aiden’s hair, breaths faltering, lips trembling. In absolute silence, he crumbled to keep Aiden whole.
Adila’s office was the only one located on the back of the mountain, facing the homes of the gods instead of the town of angels. It overlooked a portion of the valley on one side and the conglomeration of mountains on the other, lush with trees and bushes, green all the way through. Down the mountain, a stream raced, water gurgling and falling, reminding him of his own office. He found her sitting at her desk with some files in hand, eyes cast down to read them, a portion of her hair slipping from behind her ear to fall toward the desk, a short bob that formed a blonde fan on the side of her face with how it spread. Despite the silence, his presence still prompted her to move back, however long her eyes still remained on the page. She only glanced at him when she was done reading.
“Is it just?” he asked, standing by the doorway where sunlight shone and warmed up his skin. “The trial given to me disguised as a normal assignment. The one I’m supposedly failing. Is it just or was it tampered with?”
“It’s just. I saw to it myself.”
“Are you sure no one’s touched it since?”
“You’re failing it on your own account.”
Her words speared him right through the chest. Across the room, water rolled down the stone path it had created, burbling peacefully.
“What will happen to him when time is up?” he asked, lower this time.
Adila raised a brow. “Shouldn’t you be asking what will happen to you if you don’t turn this around in time?”
“I don’t care about that. Will he be sent down?”
“We don’t know yet. It all depends on the two of you.”
“What am I doing?” Aiden asked him over lunch, poking at the roasted potatoes on his plate.
The air was warm in the shade, stagnant without a breeze, yet comfortable enough that it didn’t make them sweat. There was no changing of seasons in Paradise; The Resort was stuck in perpetual summer, but some days were still warmer than others. Over the lattice fence, the blue of the pools shone, sunlight bouncing off the surface, casting moving patterns on Aiden’s skin.
“Why am I taking all these classes and doing all this stuff?” Aiden continued, looking up at him. His eyes were light and bright, honey brown. “What’s the point?”
“I thought you were having fun.”
“Sure. I mean, I like some of it, but I don’t want to spend eternity painting shitty portraits and making ugly clay pots. It’s pointless.”
Right, eternity. The dagger in his heart twisted, turning him away. “How do you want to spend eternity then?”
“I don’t know; doing something important. Making a difference.”
“Like what? What could you possibly improve in Paradise?”
“I don’t know! I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing all day; I have a lot more to offer than that.”
He shifted in his chair. Glancing over at Aiden, their eyes promptly met. “Paradise is where you chase what you couldn’t on Earth. You put yourself first, hone your abilities, learn everything that interests you, and meet others who feel the same way. You can do whatever you want, but it has to be for you. What you do here is not going to change the system, just you and whomever else you decide to spend eternity with. I know you’re used to running the show, but this isn’t it. You’re in the audience now.”
With a desolate frown on his face, Aiden leaned back in his chair, eyes glancing off. “I think I need to speak to Richard,” he confessed, almost in a whisper.
“Maybe you should.”
As the week progressed, there was still no sign of Blaz, no set date for the war and no signs of the divine glow that was supposed to emanate from Nathaniel. He looked almost human without it, able to see the veins under his skin and the blonde hairs on his arms. The halo over his head had grown so dull that it was difficult to tell if it still glowed, a mere reflective surface in the dark. Aiden even commented on it, drawing attention to how much more similar they’d become, his wings the only difference between them. He didn’t say anything, and Aiden didn’t ask what had happened either, disinterested to know, or perhaps already informed. Aiden kissed him in the dark, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, a single breath shared between their lungs. If he was falling, then he deserved it, since his heart was entirely in this; in every decision he made, in every kiss he offered, in every thought he had. He was going to love Aiden until the kick that dropped him from Paradise.
Richard’s letters didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know, but he still read them, just in case—in case he’d missed something, in case there was something missing. While he trusted Richard’s word, the circumstances in which they’d met had left a bad taste in his mouth, and well, he’d never trusted Aiden in the first place, even if a single look from him held a breath in his throat, and the words in Aiden’s mouth traveled to the depths of his soul, and the beating of their hearts now played to the same song. Aiden touched his neck and kissed him, yet they’d never discussed exclusivity. Morally, it wouldn’t be wrong for him to get with Richard.
The letters didn’t mention any inappropriate behavior, but sitting in the hot tub with Aiden in his lap, fingers digging into the meat of Aiden’s thighs, moving with his body, all Nathaniel could think about was the therapy session earlier that day. Richard would’ve never told him if he’d bent Aiden over his desk for forty-five minutes, his face pushed against the surface, hands grabbing onto the rounded edges. They’d talked of success this time. Had that involved Richard standing over Aiden, pushing their thighs together? Aiden moaned in his lap, lips against his ear, muffling every sound that escaped him.
“Is Richard kind to you?” Nathaniel asked, voice low with the implications of his question, spoken against Aiden’s jaw.
“Yeah, he is,” Aiden breathed, arms wrapping around the width of his shoulders, an anchor as their hips met and the water around them splashed. “We talked about success. I told him… I know everything about it.”
“Is he good?” His tone was a whisper, hands squeezing Aiden’s thighs, holding him where they met with his hips. “Is he better than me?”
Aiden hummed, knees pushing against his ribcage. “How bad do you want me to fuck him?”
“I don’t.”
“You keep asking about him like I’m cheating on you.”
“We’re not together.”
“He’s not my type.”
He groaned, low, hot on Aiden’s neck, body consumed by flames.
“Not together.” Aiden scoffed, nails digging into his skin. “You’re in love with me.”
“Who isn’t?”
“Richard.”
With fire burning through the pit of his stomach, he brought Aiden closer, pushing into him in time with the movement of the water. “Fucking idiot,” he mumbled absently, speaking into Aiden’s neck, making him giggle.
Getting confirmation from Aiden removed significant weight from his shoulders, heart beating easier. In therapy, they discussed several topics in search of a way to make Aiden understand this was the end of the line, that there was nothing else left for him to accomplish outside of personal improvements. It made Aiden quit some of the classes he hadn’t liked and focus on the ones he had, going so far as talking to some of his classmates. Aiden swore that he hadn’t made any friends, that he just wasn’t the kind of person who had any friends anyway, but the fact he might not have formed any meaningful friendships on Earth didn’t mean he couldn’t start now. It’d be good for him to have more than two people to talk to, even if he saw no value in it. He probably just needed a little more time.
The impending war forced Nathaniel to rearrange his schedule, prioritizing the preparations at the military base over his morning visits. He wouldn’t stop to speak with Narissa or the soldiers at the tomb anymore, and would, unfortunately, only be able to see Charmaine once every few days. That was what he told her, evoking a surprisingly negative reaction. She didn’t agree with it at all, and if he couldn’t come see her, then she’d go see him instead.
“At the military base?” he asked, a skeptical look on his face. Comical, even.
“Yes,” she promised, and delivered the very next day, showing up around the same time he’d be going to her office.
Her presence drew a lot of attention from the Archangels. Even though she’d never been here before, they knew who she was, Nathaniel’s mentor and former boss. She surprised him at the training grounds, where soldiers warmed up and took turns practicing. Their fleeing attention took him straight to her, watching from the sidelines. With a spear in hand, he excused himself and walked over. Approaching, he saw the scowl on her forehead and the hand that covered her mouth. The sleeve of her dress cascaded in white frills down to her elbow.
“What is it?” he asked, feeling his own heart jump.
She glanced him down, eyebrows drawn up, digging into her forehead. It was only then that he realized her concern was entirely directed at him, not the war or the preparations for it. Without a word, Charmaine closed the distance between them with a hug. Alarm kept him from reciprocating—they’d never done this before.
Hovering at his own height, she pressed her cheek to his, brushing the shell of his ear with her nose, arms hugging him tight around the chest. The air around him was rich with rose petals and amber, breathed deep into his lungs. His legs were surrounded by the folds of her dress, velvety smooth. Slowly, he hugged her back, careful not to touch her wings. What was this for? The long strands of her hair slipped from behind an ear and touched his face, soft, sticking to the sweat on his skin. The back of his neck prickled with every pair of eyes that watched them.
“Charmaine?” he tried again, more tender this time. “What’s wrong?”
Squeezing him, she sobbed, small and spontaneous, turning his blood into ice. Something horrific must have happened. He had a feeling it had to do with what awaited him. Another sob, messier than the last, and she pulled away from him, turning to hide her face, blond hair flowing like a curtain. He tried to get close again, but she kept him at bay with a hand against his chest. She dabbed at her eyes in privacy. Her hand felt like sunshine on his skin.
“You need to change this. What they’re doing isn’t right,” she told him, voice trembling with grief, stern with anger. “I can’t bear losing you.”
“You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t let them destroy you.” Here, she turned to look at him again, her sleeve pressed to the eye that was lower than the other two. “Don’t let Aiden take you away from us.”
To that, he said nothing.
That weekend was the first in a long time that the entirety of the board came together to discuss a plan of action rather than run in circles. The Abyss still hadn’t given them a date for the war, so Nathaniel took the initiative and set it to next week, which the board didn’t question. Actually, they seemed to have no opinion at all, throwing each other glances and shrugs, so that was quickly settled. With the army on the battlefield, the search party would become Narissa’s responsibility. If Blaz was to be found before the army’s return, Cosmo would be the one to interrogate him. Every arrangement worked itself out with incredible ease. Each Representative only really weighed in on the topics that personally involved them, allowing for the meeting to run smoothly. If only they could all go this well.
No one brought up the emergency gathering Striker had called earlier this week, and Nathaniel didn’t mention it either, unwilling to talk about the assignment he was currently failing. If someone were to ask him about it, he wouldn’t mind pulling them aside for a quick word, but refused to comment publicly. The sidelong glances he got throughout the meeting were enough indication that there was nothing to be said. One of them brought up Julian and if he was on par with that, which struck Nathaniel as odd, because Julian had nothing to do with it. No one did.
“He’s perfectly on par with the advancements of the war, if that’s what you’re asking me,” Nathaniel replied, squinting at Cosmo from across the table.
“If you were to fall in battle, would he be able to lead in your place?”
“Yes, as would any of the others.”
A nod from the board, keeping their eyes down.
“What about Mr. Yorke?” Cosmo continued, the only one who still held the stare. “What are we going to do with him?”
“The end of next week coincides with the end of our contract, so he won’t be my responsibility anymore. He’ll be on his own then.”
“You know that’s not what I’m referring to. He doesn’t belong here.”
“Then throw him down,” Nathaniel suggested, stern and quick, against the beating of his own heart just to see the reaction of the board.
Cosmo’s eyebrows lifted, bordering on delight. So that was where he stood. “Does he belong in The Abyss?”
“We will have to reassess his situation,” Adila cut in, eyes down at the paper in her hands. “There might be a trial.”
“That’d be the first I’ve heard of it. A human trial in Paradise.”
“Are you sure it’s not going to cause panic within the other humans?” Irene asked.
“I don’t see why they should be informed when this doesn’t concern them in the slightest. The less they have to worry about, the better.”
“Am I going to trial?” Nathaniel asked, gathering the table’s attention.
“We will have to see about that,” Adila replied. “You still have a week, after all.”
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