Read Online White Heart of Justice by Jill Archer - Free Book Online Page B

one. I’d given no ground and I’d already caused Peter some discomfort.
Score: Onyx, one; Angels, zero.
    â€œNouiomo Onyx of Etincelle,” Friedrich began, “daughter of Karanos Onyx, the current executive of the Demon Council, and Aurelia Onyx nee Ferrum of the Hawthorn Tribe, you have petitioned the Joshua School for a Guardian Angel.”
    I stiffened and my signature pooled with
expectancy
—a battle preparation response. Luckily, no one but Karanos would be able to sense it and he would simply see it as good practice.
    â€œIn the past,” Friedrich continued, “I’ve denied your petition for two reasons. One, prior to your petition you told me in no uncertain terms that you did not desire a Guardian, and two, reparations have not yet been made for your destruction of Metatron’s Justica, the irreplaceable Angel artifact you destroyed last summer.”
    Friedrich waited for my reaction. When I didn’t react (none seemed appropriate or advisable; I wanted a Guardian, but not the one who was sitting on the altar), he said, “It is my understanding that you now wish to have a Guardian formally assigned to you and that you wish to make reparations for the ruined statue.”
    He paused again, waiting for my response.
    â€œThat is correct.”
    â€œThen I’m prepared to grant your petition. The Divinity will provide you with a Guardian Angel and you will make ‘suitable reparations.’”
    It was exactly what I’d hoped for, except . . .
    â€œWill I be able to choose the Guardian?”
    Friedrich laughed. “Aren’t you the one who petitioned us?” he asked. “The practice of allowing Host to pick the Angels that guard them is a boon. The practice could just as easily go the other way, with Angels choosing who
they
wish to watch over. You lost your right to choose when you walked out—”
    â€œSurely, Friedrich, you don’t expect her to work with just anyone,” Valda cut in, her voice as brittle as a thin sheet of ice. She turned toward me. “Peter Aster told us that he knows where the White Heart is.”
    â€œThe White Heart,” I repeated slowly and somewhat dumbly.
    â€œYes, Noon,” Valda continued calmly, as if she were describing the cut of pork she wanted me to pick up at the butcher rather than a near-mythical, magical sword that hadn’t been seen in centuries, “
Album Cor Iustitiae?
The sword that Metatron made for Justica? You see, we’ve worked everything out with Karanos and the Demon Council. Your target for the Laurel Crown Race can be the White Heart. If you retrieve it for us, we will consider it as suitable reparations for the statue you destroyed.”
    Oh, boy.
Glashia had suspected, although I’m not sure how, and he’d done his best to warn and prepare me. Even so, despite all the strides I’d made since last year and the training I’d received, I was still finding it hard to breathe right now. In hindsight, a chainmail bustier probably hadn’t been the best idea.
    I glanced up at Peter. His blond hair was tied back and he wore a white cloak lined in black. He sat in his chair as if it were a throne and he were a tyrant. I assumed from his hostile expression that he’d guessed I wasn’t going to work with him willingly.
    â€œThere are lots of theories floating around about where the White Heart might be,” I said finally. “How do we know Peter’s is correct?”
    â€œBecause I have the thief’s journal,” he said, holding up a small leather-bound book. “And it says, in his own hand, that he took the sword to—”
    With a flick of her wrist, Valda silenced Peter.
Whoa.
I’d known Rafe could cast spells using hand gestures, but it was an Angel trick few knew. Most Angels only cast verbal spells. They were supreme orators. Angel culture was wrapped up in their love of languages. Their