He wavered, then gathered his strength and stood tall, with his broad shoulders pressed back. He regarded the clergy – a priest, two priestesses, an... a handful of maidens – with dispassion and gave a polite bow dutifully. “I am Themis,” he said. “Archangel of this trust. This is Jezeliel and Metos.”The female, Jezeliel, was a slight figure, even by human standards. The look in her eyes reflected only damage; desecration. Her wings weren’t white like the first angel’s, but blue. Every possible. On the floor. On her hands and knees. Scrubbing and cleaning like the black domestic servants she remembers from home, when she was a little child. Tracy is now treated like a child. She is told when to get up, when to get washed, when she may eat, what she may eat and when she must sleep. Day after day after day after day. Each day like the last and the last day like the next.Gradually, she finds it easier to adapt to the expectations of her captors. Merely to do as she is told. Superficially,. More

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