Rhamiel didn’t want to be here. The pronouncement hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, even thicker than the navy-blue velvet drapes that lined the throne room. Rhamiel stood stiffly before the obsidian dais, his gaze fixed somewhere between the intricate carvings on the floor and the formidable presence of his parents. Their black angel wings, usually spread in a majestic display, were folded neatly behind them, doing nothing to quell the storm brewing within him. "...and

Prologue Years before the start of our story….   Rhamiel, the newly crowned Night Prince, paced the hallway, his footsteps echoing with a...