Page 10 of Seraph's Tears
I glanced away, face hot and stomach sick.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said bluntly. “No one could’ve predicted a hole would appear in the sky in the middle of a skirmish. Our enemy fell through, too. You have worked so hard to keep us together, alive, and hopeful.”
Odd, because I’d lost hope decades ago. I didn’t even know where I’d tucked my sword away, it had been so long and so dark.
“Some of us have learned to like this world,” Castiel told me earnestly. “Haniel and Michael regularly travel to observe human culture.”
“Azrael hates this world,” I said flatly. “Hates it.”
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Azrael hates everything. Always thought he flew on a higher wind than everyone else. Keeps saying his wings were black, when we all knew they are dark gray.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “He still says that, does he? The closest he comes to the royal family is hoping to be part of the king’s private guard. That seraph’s wings are gray.”
Castiel smirked. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
There were twelve of us total, though I doubted all twelve of us still survived. We had fallen out of the sky and into a field in this world with grievous injuries—it took over a year for Turail’s arm to grow back, and I hadn’t been able to count how many of Zadkiel’s bones had been crushed on impact. Only the ayim pulsing in our bodies healed us. After the initial Fall I had sent everyone on missions to search for a way home. Year after year, mission after mission. We had discovered seas and oceans, humans and other enemies. Until I finally, officially disbanded our sedge. A few continued to search on their own, and I hadn’t seen them in many years. The rest I only saw periodically, save for Castiel and sometimes Azrael.
“You can gather food and the trunk for me?” I reminded him.
He nodded. “You could come into the village with me, you know.”
“One seraph in the village is enough,” I decided. “Two might start a panic.”
Disappointment crossed Castiel’s face, but he mastered it quickly. “Very well. I’ll bring the trunk and food here for you. Skies, I don’t think I’ve been this excited about meeting a woman since our general found his mate right before the Battle of Furro.”
“She’s not my mate,” I snapped. “She’s a human.”
Castiel rolled his eyes, such a human gesture it took me aback. “I know. I’m just saying I’d like to meet her.”
Fierce protectiveness burgeoned inside me, making my heart throb and my ribs ache. No, I wanted to say. Stay away. It made no sense to act this way. I trusted Castiel with my life. We had bled together, Fallen together. Survived together. I swallowed my first impulse and nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
He grinned. “I look forward to it!”
I grunted. That made one of us.
Chapter Five
Eve
I tiptoed through the house, peeking around every corner to make certain the seraph—Gabriel—was truly gone.
The rush of wings outside earlier had alerted me, and this might be my only chance. I needed to flee.
Today in the courtyard was too much. I hadn’t wanted to meet the Herald of Death to begin with. Zorababel had told me I was chosen by the god Erlik—chosen by Zorababel, more like—and I’d realized this was my best chance to escape from the church, from Zorababel, from everything that made me feel like I was being smothered.
I had planned to complete Zorababel’s mission, then flee once the elders were distracted by his arrival. I had a few pounds saved up and thought I could find work as I traveled, looking for a safe place to settle—a cottage by the sea sounded wonderful. Maybe I could even serve at one of Saras’s shrines, for she seemed a far kinder god than her father, Erlik.
Never had I expected to be attracted to Gabriel. He was supposed to be the Herald of Death! He was an angel. Not one of those chubby, sexless cherubs painted in Saras’s churches. He was…breathtaking. Heart-stopping. He made me want to lick him. I’d never wanted to lick anyone before.
And that could not be. For so many reasons.
He might cause desire to well inside me, but he’d never look at timid, mousy Eve. I was not the sort of woman to arouse any man’s passions. Zorababel had told me so several times. It’s one reason I was twenty-seven and had been betrothed for nearly two years. I could not bear a seraph stripping my being bare with those intense eyes and seeing my pathetic desire for him.
More importantly, I couldn’t let anything as base as desire make me stray from my path. I didn’t know how to get Zor what he wanted, and I surely wouldn’t stick around and let my one chance at freedom slip through my fingers because I’d been bespelled by a seraph.
The key I’d picked up so many years ago burned against my chest, an accusation I could not forget my dreams. I gripped the handles of my valise and opened the front door of the manor, my stomach twisting with nerves.
Cold wind whipped past me into the Great Hall, stirring the dust. A blank, gray sky greeted me, and brown grass waved down the dirt path toward the village.
