Page 21 of Seraph's Tears
“I stopped by the village shop,” Castiel told me. “It’s too small to have its own post office, so all the mail goes there.”
“Oh?” I inquired politely, not sure why he was telling me this. Castiel goes into the village? How does he keep that quiet? Why aren’t there more rumors flying around? Do the villagers fear him? A host of questions chased through my head.
Castiel slid his hand inside his leather vest, plucking an envelope from an interior pocket. “This was waiting for you.”
Beside me, Gabriel practically vibrated with some unknown emotion.
Dread and curiosity warred within me. I reluctantly took the letter from the other seraph’s grasp. “Thank you.” It couldn’t be good news. It would never be good news. Only a few people knew where I was, and only one of them would likely message me. I curtsied to both the seraphim and escaped, the letter burning in my hand.
The rumble of male voices started up as soon as I closed the door, but I didn’t stay to hear what they were saying. My mind spun with all sorts of worries I knew wouldn’t be put to rest until I read the letter. All thoughts of pleasure and of Gabriel’s lips disappeared.
My stomach clenched. I hurried downstairs to the kitchens. With shaking hands I broke the wax seal and pried the letter open.
Dear Eve,
It has been nearly three weeks. Any progress? I assume since you haven’t attempted contact with home this is the correct location for who we’ve been searching for.
I anticipated a much quicker return once you found him. Why have you not returned to the fold with our person in tow? Remember, I am counting on you because you were chosen to be my betrothed. You have a chance to honor our Church, and we in turn can honor you. Do not fail your brothers and sisters now. Do not fail your heavenly Father, nor your lord and master and reverend.
Two ambassadors who speak with my voice shall be at the village inn tomorrow, waiting for you. Go. Speak with them. Remember, your obedience honors our Lord. I await your news with great joy, for we are close to meeting the great herald of our age.
Go with purpose and gladness of heart,
Z
Despair trickled through me. I’d forgotten. In my happiness and desire and that blasted kiss, I’d forgotten the danger growing around me. Floggings. Fastings. The prayer closet. Char duty. Public confession and shaming. If I didn’t give Zorababel what he wanted—if I didn’t escape, this was my future.
The fire popped and crackled beside me. A wild, desperate urge to toss the letter in nearly overtook me. Why couldn’t he leave me alone? It had only been a fortnight and some days. Gabriel was not a trusting soul, and he clearly had no desire to be worshipped—exactly how we’d house and clothe and feed and worship a Herald, I didn’t know. Zorababel refused to share details with anyone besides his elders.
My stomach writhed and I gagged. Burning the letter would not rid me of my problem. I sighed, rubbing my temples, as I tried to think it through. I’d have to tell them the truth: seraphim did not trust easily, and Gabriel would not listen to an invitation from someone he didn’t trust. I was still getting Gabriel to trust me, and I needed more time.
Speaking to Zorababel’s men, recounting private conversations, felt like a betrayal to Gabriel. But it would give him a buffer against the church, even if he had no idea it was happening. It would buy me time, too.
I hated this. Gabriel deserved better than secrets and half-lies, but I needed to protect myself.
I couldn’t tell him what was happening. If he grew angry, what would happen to me? He’d never hurt me intentionally, but he was a seraph, with far more power than me. They lived a thousand years, could regrow limbs, could smell a river two miles away. He was more predator than warrior. And he could wield magic. Gabriel was inhuman, and I couldn’t expect him to understand my predicament. What if he cast me out? Without pay, I didn’t have enough to rent a cottage. The money I’d saved was enough for travel. Then Zor would swoop me up and I’d be in the prayer closet until I confessed my sins. I couldn’t risk it.
If I went, if I told them the barest details, that would push them off longer. I’d protect myself and Gabriel.
I grimaced. I wasn’t sure that would be enough.
Chapter Nine
Eve
I eyed the old inn suspiciously. It looked like any other posting inn in northern Anglia—two story, timber and gray stone, a stable in the back for horses, and a wide, muddy courtyard entrance for carriages to turn.
Firelight flickered in the thick-paned, warped glass windows.
I had spent last evening worrying over the meeting to come. My dreams had been a torrid mixture of memories of the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints and his kiss, which sucked my soul right out of me. I’d never been kissed like that. I hadn’t known kisses could be like that—I’d received one musty, potato-flavored kiss from my betrothed and it had done nothing to me but hope that Zorababel didn’t want relations often.
But Gabriel’s kiss…would haunt my dreams for ages.
This morning I’d told Gabriel I needed supplies from the shop, which was true. He’d grunted, not meeting my eyes. And my heart had sunk into my boots.
I knew the kiss had been a terrible idea. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again. I regretted it—a little. But knowing that he regretted it stung. Was I too mousy? Too human? Too working class? Let me count the ways I’m below you.
So now here I stood, my breath pluming in the air, shivering in my stockings and boots, gathering the courage to go inside. Who will be there? I didn’t want to see anyone from my home—my past—but some would be preferable to others.
