Page 28 of Seraph's Tears
Unease made my stomach hurt and my fingernails dig into my palms. Gabriel would never consent to being worshipped—he’d consider it a humiliating spectacle, humans using him as a prop for their own religious desires. He wanted space to lick his wounds. Space to keep his seraphim safe, to find a bit of peace. Zorababel’s mission would get in the way of all of that.
Why couldn’t I cut my losses, grab my belongings, and flee? My mission would fail. Why couldn’t I walk away before Zorababel realized and tried to call me home for punishment?
It was foolish to fall headlong into feelings for someone like Gabriel. I couldn’t let that consume me, not when I wasn’t yet free of the church’s long reach.
I’d followed all their rules, I’d believed all their lies. Until I was twenty years old, and my father became ill. He could scarcely work, and medical bills piled high on the kitchen table. We prayed to Erlik for healing, though I saw my mother secretly leave offerings at shrines for Saras twice. We had faith that Reverend Grimshaw would heal my father through the power of Erlik and our community would rally around us and support us through the hardship. My father had surrendered almost all his earthly and financial possessions when we joined the Church of the Love of His Divine Saints, with the promise that the church looked after their own, under Erlik’s benevolent gaze.
They did not. Zorababel’s father stopped by twice for prayers in a year, and the elders never dropped off the proceeds from the offering plate.
A priest from a different church, the primary worship for Erlik, saw me praying on their steps one day and he paid for my father’s medicine for six months. A priestess of Termus found my father a new, less strenuous job when he recovered.
That’s when I began to doubt the Grimshaws, their elders, and the way the church treated us. When I began to wonder if most churches didn’t function like ours.
I’ll leave when the oriel’s clean, I told myself. I’ll work on it every day, even if it’s just a panel at a time. And when it’s done, inside and out, I’ll leave.
For three days I scoured old pots and pans, beat the dust out of ancient carpets and mildewy tapestries, and polished the wood in the Great Hall. I fell asleep every night exhausted, hoping I wouldn’t dream of Gabriel’s lips on mine. And every night, I did anyway.
During the day I tried to search the old manor for maps. I counted my coins, now that Gabriel had paid me my first wages, and imagined how much better off I’d be if I waited a little longer, just until the next time I was paid. I put aside little bits of preserved food to pack when it was time. And each time I prepared, my heart cracked a little more.
One day, when I searched for Gabriel to give him his lunch tray, I couldn’t find him. I went upstairs and downstairs through the east wing, calling his name.
He poked his head out of the gallery, a room I hadn’t spent time in. I’d seen all the dust coating the gilt frames and sun-bleached portraits and immediately turned tail.
“Eve?” My name in his mouth never failed to send a shiver down my spine. And yet he seemed so unaffected, as if we’d never kissed.
I smiled, hoping I looked professional and casual. “Your meal?”
He glanced behind him, back into the long room. “I’m not hungry.”
My heart sank. “Oh.”
“But…you could come in? Eat it yourself. There’s no need for food to go to waste.”
I hesitated after one step. “If…that’s what you want.”
“Yes!” He cleared his throat. “Certainly.”
I followed Gabriel inside and my mouth dropped open. I’d been expecting the same long, white walls and dusty wooden floor with sour-faced old people staring down at me from gold frames. Instead it had been swept clean, scrubbed within an inch of its life, and the paintings were all piled face-down in a corner. In their place, Gabriel had strung a net across the gallery and had accumulated staves, balls, old mattresses, and more I didn’t recognize. It looked like an obstacle course, complete with a rack of weapons in one corner and heavy weights hanging from exposed beams.
“Did you turn it into a gymnasium?” I gawked.
Gabriel stood with his hands on his hips, wings stretched behind him, with a proud look on his face. “Yes. It’s not done yet, but I hope it will be a training area for seraphim when they visit.”
I smiled, impressed. “How long have you been working on this?” I had a hard time imagining my morose, noble angel breaking a sweat by doing manual labor.
“A few days.” He blushed. One wing crooked to the side and the other folded against his spine. “It’s…it’s nothing.”
“It’s wonderful!” I spun in a slow circle, taking it in. “I’m sure your friends will love it.” I hesitated. “If they visit, I’ll need staff. I don’t think I can take care of all of them by myself.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “I promise I’ll consider my housekeeper as I make plans. Better yet, we’ll make plans together.”
Warmth grew in my chest. To distract myself from it before I said or did something stupid, I pointed to the net. “Is this like what they have back in, um Seraph Land?”
His eyes sparkled, and somehow he was even more handsome. I couldn’t bear it. “Something similar. Our home world is called Rundis, and we call our confederation of lands Aerie. Our ruler is the king of Aerie.” He gestured toward a chair in the center of the room with a low back, easy for his wings to fit. “Sit, eat.”
I obeyed, taking a bite of the warm bread.
“And yes, this is similar to a training room we’d use.” He paused, glancing around. “More for adolescents. Or those recovering from injury.”
