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tinkling of glasses I’d heard here on my two previous visits were completely lacking. I walked down the hallway toward the main dining room, taking care to keep my train off the ground and my head held high. After all, I didn’t want it to look like I was coming to Friedrich with my head down (or my tail between my legs). I wanted to make up for the loss of the statue and be allowed a Guardian of my own choosing. But I also knew the best negotiation strategy was to start from a position of strength.
    Since there was no hostess or seraphim at the door, I walked right in.
    And stopped short.
    The invitation had been a setup.
    Unsurprisingly, the room had been arranged for a ceremony instead of dining. So instead of white linen draped round tables laid with china, silver, and crystal, there were rows of seats with an aisle up the center. The candles that the Angels were so fond of lined the aisle in abundance. At the end of the aisle was an altar, upon which were more candles. Not a single electric light lit Empyr tonight. The room was full of Angels who were seated in the rows. Seated on the altar were Friedrich Vanderlin, Valda Sinclair, my father, and—this was the surprising part—Peter Aster.
    When I stopped at the entrance everyone turned toward me and stared.
    â€œWelcome, Ms. Onyx,” said Friedrich from the front, his voice loud and clear. “We’re glad you could join us. Please . . . come forward.”
    Did I have a choice?
My desire to offer the Angels an olive branch faded. If Peter were a part of this ceremony, I wanted no part of it. In fact, I now began to worry in earnest over who was taking what oath tonight.
Had Friedrich finally capitulated on allowing me the services of a Guardian? Was
Peter
the Angel everyone in here expected me to work with?
    I walked slowly up the aisle, outwardly maintaining my regal bearing, hoping I looked calm and in control. I kept a tight hold on my magic.
Now
would not be the time to repeat past magical meltdowns. But inwardly I was starting to panic. As unobtrusively as possible, I searched the audience for Rafe. Even if he was here, I didn’t know how he could help, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been aware of any of this or if he knew what Friedrich was planning.
    My father’s involvement was puzzling. His presence seemed to suggest that he approved of Friedrich’s intentions. But Karanos had never been fond of Peter and since the altercation at Lucifer’s tomb (the night that Peter had used Ari’s near death to force me to make promises I’d never have made otherwise), Karanos had shunned Peter as I had.
    I reached the altar and met Karanos’ stare. As usual, his face was expressionless and his signature was cloaked. He appeared as outwardly calm as I did. Maybe he’d capitulated as well and had decided that Peter was a better Guardian for me than no Guardian.
    My gaze switched to Friedrich and then Valda. Their expressions were nearly identical to those they’d had the day they’d observed my Gridiron match with Vicious (Friedrich looked almost happy; Valda looked contemplative). I nodded my head to each of them in turn. Anything more would look like a bow and concede too much. I then turned my gaze to Peter and smiled, intentionally baring my teeth—and lack thereof.
    The look on Peter’s face was worth it. I was quite certain, in that moment, that Peter Aster never would have thought he would see Nouiomo Onyx standing before a crowd of over forty people, included among them an Archangel, one of the Amanita, and the executive of the Demon Council, looking as beautifully savage and self-assured as I did just then. Peter’s eyes widened and his jaw hardened as his gaze zeroed in on my unmistakably dark mark amongst all the white. He’d always hated my mark. I turned back to Friedrich. If Glashia were awarding points during this ceremony I’d have taken the first