The prince’s features became angry once more, but this was a different kind of angry. The twin dark pupils which rested in equally similar dark azure eyes flashed red as they turned to glare at the fallen angel. His beauty really was a travesty. Amy wondered not for the first time if God had wept when he was forced to banish the beautiful Lucifer from heaven.
Lucifer. They didn’t know him by that name, here. Lucifer was a title reserved for legends. Here, he was the prince.
“Is that true, my pretty little Amy?” his gentle voice was now full of scathing anger. “You are worse than a mortal.”
The disdain in his voice was physically sickening. Amy felt suddenly ashamed. Worse than a mortal, that was the worst insult he could have inflicted upon her. Mortals were nothing, wisps of life to be taken at a moment’s notice. Playing pieces in a greater game between God and the prince, as they battled with each other for the right to reign over all of mankind. Angels were playing pieces, too, the only difference was that they knew this. Mortals were foolish enough to believe that they had some sort of a choice in the matter.
“But I don’t want to be here!” she screamed, her frail voice lost in the great vastness of her surroundings. “I hate it here! I hate it! I want to go back, you know I do, you tricked me into coming here, you tricked me…” she dissolved into further tears.
“Do you think He wants you, little angel who hates so much?” the prince laughed harshly. “Oh, I know he’s so forgiving,” his voice was dripping with sarcasm and bitter, bitter mockery. “But you cannot serve two masters.”