Angels didn’t have emotions. Or at least that’s what I’d always believed, and Gabriel pretty much confirmed that. If Zayne was restored, I wouldn’t get him back. Not like before. But he would be okay. He would be alive, and that...that had to be enough.

The Throne studied me silently for a couple of seconds. “Many believe that demons are incapable of love, do they not? As they do not have a human soul.”

A shiver of unease drifted through me. Was he reading my mind?

God, I hoped not.

But demons could love. Roth loved Layla, and he was the Crown Prince of Hell.

The angel tilted his head. “Contrary to what is known and what some of our brethren will even claim, angels are not incapable of emotion, Trueborn. We just feel things...differently. For the oldest among us, it is difficult, but we are not incapable of love or lust or hate,” he continued. “Those who Fell are proof. Gabriel is proof of that now.”

As I stared at him, I realized that he was right. The angels who Fell did so because they caved to a whole slew of human emotions, and Gabriel...he had a mad case of jealousy and bitterness. Relief swept through me—

“But Zayne would not become an angel. He would not become a Warden. He would remain as he is,” the Throne continued. “A Fallen who is earthbound, with one foot in Heaven and the other in Hell. There is only one other who was shunned by the Heavens and retained his grace.”

My chest hollowed. “Lucifer.”

“And you see how that turned out for him.”

With that little piece of extremely distressing news and possibly the most demotivating pep talk, the Throne vanished, taking with him the frigid air and scent of sandalwood.

I had no idea how long I stood there, staring at the spot of the Blessed Sacrament, my mind alternating between being incapable of believing what the Throne had said I needed to do and inherently knowing there was no choice.

And the latter was true whether the Throne was right or wrong.

Slowly, I turned around. The stone angels were bowing over their basins once more. My gaze lifted to the pews. I couldn’t let Zayne become something that he would’ve been horrified by, a monster that would eventually tarnish and destroy everything good about who he’d been. There was no way I could allow that, because for him, that would be a fate worse than death.

There really was no choice.

I sighed heavily, but with the next breath I took, steely determination filled me, dulling the pain and replacing the bone-deep exhaustion. There was a tiny spark of hope feeding the energy now buzzing through me, but I knew what I faced.

Either I saved Zayne or I killed him.

Or...he killed me.

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