the room in shades of gray. Beneath the hazy light the chest ebbs, its darkness alive. Jake opens the chest every day, every morning before leaving the house, but tonight he could use a little good news. After the disastrous run-in with Brielle’s dad and a heartsick night at work, he needs something of hope to cling to.
Jake drops to his knees, running a tired hand down his face.In one swift motion, he leans forward and lifts the lid. And the fear burrows deeper.
Damien’s dagger is still there.
Brielle’s ring is still missing.
He cracks his neck and mutters a desperate, rambling kind of prayer.
He’s so tired of waiting.
He stares at the seven-inch blade, crusted with Brielle’s blood, wishing he could change what he sees.
But he can’t.
He can only wait. And pray.
And hope the Throne Room won’t take away the one person in the world he actually needs. But waiting and praying, hoping even, were much easier to do seven months ago. As the months passed, fear set in. He’s ashamed of it. Of the fear. Because it’s not a fear of demons or death. It’s not a fear of disease or pain.
He fears the Throne Room.
He fears the path his heavenly Father has placed before him.
It’s a fear that he shouldn’t feed. But he does. Every day he opens the chest, looking for the ring, for the hope that there will be a tomorrow for him and Brielle.
But all he finds is death—her death—and the fear digs a little deeper, costs him a little more.
It’s a fear that Brielle can see. And it mortifies him that his cowardice is displayed so openly before her. He lifts the lid back in place and stands.
“Anything?” It’s Canaan, returned from wherever the Throne Room had him today. He’s been leaving Jake behind more often, allowing him to put down roots in Stratus. Jake understands and he’s grateful. One day their time together may cease entirely,and it’s only right that Jake prepare for that day. But with the silence of the Throne Room and Canaan’s frequent absences, it’s lonelier in this house than it used to be.
“Just the dagger,” Jake says.
He feels his jaw tighten at the word, wishes he could maintain the calm self-control Canaan has mastered. Even now, his Shield’s face is devoid of strain or stress, his brow free of lines. Jake misses the comfort of before, the calm of not worrying about the future. But would he trade that peace for Brielle?
No, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
“The rumors still have Damien suffering the pit,” Canaan says. “He and Javan both.”
Jake turns. It’s been awhile since he’s heard anything about the fallen ones who targeted him last year. “And the others? Maka and the Twins?”
Canaan loosens the tie at his neck and leans against the door frame. In a suit and tie, he could be any one of a million other corporate employees home from a hard day at the office.
“I wish I knew. They’re higher in the Prince’s esteem. Information is harder to come by.”
The air conditioner shuts off, and a new level of quiet falls around them.
“The Throne Room is cryptic, Jake. Rarely do things signify exactly what they seem to.”
“A diamond engagement ring isn’t at all cryptic.”
Canaan steps toward him, his silver eyes holding nothing but concern for Jake. “The ring helped us understand Brielle’s role and your future affections for her. It allowed us to act in faith, knowing that one day you two would be one. It served a purpose.”
“And its absence. What purpose does that serve?”
Canaan puts a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe nothing.”
Jake steps past him into the hall. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to argue.
“Jake,” Canaan calls after him. “Keep an eye on Olivia Holt.”
Jake turns back. “Yeah?”
“I asked around today, at the foundation, at her offices downtown. The reactions ranged from bewitched awe to terrified silence. She has a reputation for getting what she wants.”
Jake thinks back to this afternoon, to the look on
Jake drops to his knees, running a tired hand down his face.In one swift motion, he leans forward and lifts the lid. And the fear burrows deeper.
Damien’s dagger is still there.
Brielle’s ring is still missing.
He cracks his neck and mutters a desperate, rambling kind of prayer.
He’s so tired of waiting.
He stares at the seven-inch blade, crusted with Brielle’s blood, wishing he could change what he sees.
But he can’t.
He can only wait. And pray.
And hope the Throne Room won’t take away the one person in the world he actually needs. But waiting and praying, hoping even, were much easier to do seven months ago. As the months passed, fear set in. He’s ashamed of it. Of the fear. Because it’s not a fear of demons or death. It’s not a fear of disease or pain.
He fears the Throne Room.
He fears the path his heavenly Father has placed before him.
It’s a fear that he shouldn’t feed. But he does. Every day he opens the chest, looking for the ring, for the hope that there will be a tomorrow for him and Brielle.
But all he finds is death—her death—and the fear digs a little deeper, costs him a little more.
It’s a fear that Brielle can see. And it mortifies him that his cowardice is displayed so openly before her. He lifts the lid back in place and stands.
“Anything?” It’s Canaan, returned from wherever the Throne Room had him today. He’s been leaving Jake behind more often, allowing him to put down roots in Stratus. Jake understands and he’s grateful. One day their time together may cease entirely,and it’s only right that Jake prepare for that day. But with the silence of the Throne Room and Canaan’s frequent absences, it’s lonelier in this house than it used to be.
“Just the dagger,” Jake says.
He feels his jaw tighten at the word, wishes he could maintain the calm self-control Canaan has mastered. Even now, his Shield’s face is devoid of strain or stress, his brow free of lines. Jake misses the comfort of before, the calm of not worrying about the future. But would he trade that peace for Brielle?
No, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
“The rumors still have Damien suffering the pit,” Canaan says. “He and Javan both.”
Jake turns. It’s been awhile since he’s heard anything about the fallen ones who targeted him last year. “And the others? Maka and the Twins?”
Canaan loosens the tie at his neck and leans against the door frame. In a suit and tie, he could be any one of a million other corporate employees home from a hard day at the office.
“I wish I knew. They’re higher in the Prince’s esteem. Information is harder to come by.”
The air conditioner shuts off, and a new level of quiet falls around them.
“The Throne Room is cryptic, Jake. Rarely do things signify exactly what they seem to.”
“A diamond engagement ring isn’t at all cryptic.”
Canaan steps toward him, his silver eyes holding nothing but concern for Jake. “The ring helped us understand Brielle’s role and your future affections for her. It allowed us to act in faith, knowing that one day you two would be one. It served a purpose.”
“And its absence. What purpose does that serve?”
Canaan puts a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe nothing.”
Jake steps past him into the hall. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to argue.
“Jake,” Canaan calls after him. “Keep an eye on Olivia Holt.”
Jake turns back. “Yeah?”
“I asked around today, at the foundation, at her offices downtown. The reactions ranged from bewitched awe to terrified silence. She has a reputation for getting what she wants.”
Jake thinks back to this afternoon, to the look on
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