Sir Jean spoke up, sounding both frightened and determined. "On behalf of the kin, I insist that you undo what you have done to the Apkallu, Lady Cecilia, and present yourself to council, and both of these things sooner rather than later. Your covenant with us rests upon your promise: 'As you open our memories, so shall we remember you.' If you alter our memories, how then shall we remember you?"

Cecilia gritted her teeth, and forced herself to assume a tone of humble appeal. "It was never my intention to injure anyone. I was merely trying to keep Dominic from paying the consequences of his folly. I apologize for doing it so clumsily. I only had your best interests at heart-- I swear it."

"You lying bitch," said a new, deep voice. To Cecilia's dismay, Michael strode into the room, his golden wings limned with blood-red rage. "Was harming my son also in his best interests?" His sword was drawn, and every line of his frame sang with killing intent.

"Is this your plan, Sir Jean? To lure me here so he can murder--?" Cecilia began to ask.

Then, to her shock, she saw Robert's slender, dark-haired form following close on his father's heels, his faded wings wrapped tightly around his body, as he clung to his mother's hand. What was Robert doing here? It was useless to try and regain their trust now. She snarled, and dodged the swift swing of Michael's sword. The blade bit deeply into the frame of the cushioned chair where she'd been sitting, and shattered it into splinters with an explosion of goose down.

She formed her aura into a sword of silver fire, and prepared to counter-attack, only to be brought up short by a sickening wave of pain in her head. How could forget the geas Dominic had laid upon her? Galla-demons devour his entrails! She was not permitted to kill either Michael or Dominic, but neither could she leave them untouched. That left--

Michael's next thrust tore though her gown, just over her ribs, and left a burning line against her skin. She pushed him away with all her strength, her silver wings lifting and tossing him against the wall. She swept Dominic and Mathilde off their feet as well, the force of her blow stunning them into temporary submission. Sir Jean and Lady Alais were left to cower amidst the ruins of the parlor's furniture.

* * *

God's Nails, how had Cecilia gotten so strong? Michael barely had time to think as he found himself surrounded by cold silver fire and flung across the parlor as if he weighed nothing.

He slammed into the wall with the sickening crunch of broken ribs, all breath driven from his lungs, unable to move or even shout.

* * *

Cecilia turned to face her foster son. He spread his crippled wings, as if he wanted to shelter his mother. He hates me, too, after all my care for him. Does he see my intent? No matter. They had betrayed her, the boy she had raised as a son and the girl she had rescued from a life of degradation and slavery.

She spoke, using the Voice of Coercion. "Utu hear me: Irkalla, Ereshkigal commands you. Unbind your chains." Before she finished, or her enemies could react, she shattered the parlor window with her sword of light and leapt into the gray dawn.

Michael wanted his son to regain his powers? The sound of screaming followed her into the cool morning air. Be careful what you wish for.