Chapter 24
A portrait of a battle between what looked to be seraphs hung in the hallway beside the solid oak door that stood before us.
I thought Gabriel would lead me back to my bedchamber to clean up and ready for dinner, but he guided me into a spacious office.
A large desk with papers and books strewn about it sat in the center.
Several bookshelves lined the room, and a map of Tironaill hung on the wall with different colored pins pushed through locations across the continent.
Various types of weapons were displayed or encased in glass on tables.
“Sit,” he directed in an even tone, and I lowered myself into a plush leather chair with my back to the door.
“Rory, I wanted to talk with you about what happened in the sparring room.” He ran his fingers through his hair and released a deep breath.
“I apologize for losing my temper, but I thought he was hurting you.”
“I know,” I said delicately. “I swear to you he didn’t. I begged him to teach me after the attack. Darragh has been nothing but kind to me.”
He scoffed. “Kind? Well, that’s certainly not how most describe him.”
“Well, most are wrong, then,” I blurted more defiantly than I meant to.
Gabriel’s jaw ticked, and his hands balled into fists. “You don’t know him at all, Rory,” he growled. “He is not like us and can’t be trusted. His kindness is a ruse. A way to lower your defenses around him. Do not fall for it!”
“Not like us? You mean angheals?” I tipped my head, and my eyebrows shot up.
He lifted his chin. “Yes.”
I narrowed my eyes without meaning to. “Nor am I, Gabriel. Am I untrustworthy, too?”
Gabriel’s mouth hung open. He was in front of me in a flash, both hands grasping each side of the chair, caging me in.
His head lowered to eye level with me. “You listen to me. Hear me. Darragh is manipulative and can change personalities in an instant. You are only seeing what he wants you to see. It killed me to even let him near you to begin with.”
I flinched from his proximity and the vitriol of his voice. I pulled in a shaky breath and blinked away a painful memory. One I kept trying to forget.
His face softened, and he unfolded a hand, caressing my face. I fought the urge to pull away from him. “I’m sorry. Tensions are still high. I just… I feel so protective of you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I loosened a breath. “You almost hurt me tonight. Gabriel, you could have burned me or worse!”
Watch yourself, Rory. Put the mask back on.
I switched tactics and softened my words. “You have to put a little trust in me, too. I am in a foreign place with people who have powers I don’t have, and I am trying to navigate it for the safety of Cora and myself. On top of it all, I am trying to figure out how to get back to Edenalee.”
Gabriel pushed off the armrests and turned to pace, his face unreadable.
“Yes. That is something I want to talk to you about. I had some time to think over the last few days, and I realized that we have only just met, but my draw to you is overwhelming. I feel a connection to you that I have never felt with anyone else.”
Oh, shit.
“I have been praying to Themis steadily this past year to bring someone into my life who is meant for me. Someone who isn’t like the rest of the noblewomen in this land. I have shed a lot of my blood at his altar.” He paused his pacing and smiled at me. “I think I have finally been blessed.”
Shit, shit, SHIT!
My eyes darted around the table in front of me, awkwardly trying to look at anything but him.
I feared my face would give away the panic that now consumed me if he looked into my eyes.
In my haste to keep him from reading me, my gaze fell onto an old, cracked leather-bound book lying off to the side of the desk.
Faded lettering on the spine spelled MEAD.
Mead?
“Rory? Did you hear me?” Gabriel’s lapis eyes bore into me.
I blinked. “Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, the fatigue of the day is setting in. Can you repeat that?”
His brows furrowed. “I said that I was hoping to convince you and Cora to stay here in Tironaill. You would be safe at the castle, of course, and you would want for nothing. In time, we would get to know each other more and maybe be able to go beyond friendship, breaking stigmas and showing how harmful the old ways were. I believe this is why Themis brought us together.”
My stomach soured at what he was asking of me. “You need a human to help break stigmas when you could do that with daemonites or dryads? There must be a stunning daemonite woman pining for your attention. I certainly don’t hold a candle to the women I have seen in Tironaill.”
Gabriel smiled and knelt in front of me. “Themis, I love your wit. You are so humble when you don’t need to be. I like you, Rory. A lot. You are elegant, interesting, and beautiful. All things I look for in a female.” He pulled my hand into his. “Tell me you will think about staying.”
I swallowed. “I’ll think about staying.”
I had no desire to be at the mercy of another noble, and Gabriel had proven that he was much like any other noble, human or seraph. He was powerful, charming, wealthy, and stuck to a rigid status quo. My mother would love him.
Gabriel’s grin was positively wolfish, like I had just agreed to let him take me to his bed. “Good. I know that I could make you happy. Cora would be happy here.”
I silently nodded and had to steady my breathing. Our safety and a pathway forward depended on how believable a performance I could put on. My approach to everything would have to be delicate and calculated with Gabriel’s desire to court me.
My eyes darted back to the book lying on Gabriel’s desk. Mead. He didn’t seem like the mead-making type. This couldn’t be Psilas’ book. Still…
Gabriel helped me stand, and his hand found its usual place on my back, guiding me toward the door. I stopped short and looked back toward his desk. “Are you planning on making mead?”
I couldn’t read his face. Confusion maybe?
I pointed to the old leather book, and he grabbed it.
“This?” His eyebrows raised. “Hardly. I confiscated it from one of the militia members we just brought back from the West Valley. I have to check it to make sure no coded language in here could lead us to more locations or militia sympathizer names. They’re tricky, and we have broken codes in simple things like books, letters, and even poems, revealing devious plots. ”
“Everything went alright out in the west? Nothing odd happened?” I asked.
Gabriel flicked his eyes to mine. “We were able to bring in a few militia members hiding out in the forest. I will be questioning them after dinner. Why do you ask?”
I slid back into my sweet, noble voice. “Oh, no reason.” Play into his feelings.
“I was just worried about you because it took longer than anticipated. But you’re back now and safe.
Maybe tomorrow you can escort me to the market?
I found a lovely baker that I would like to go to again.
” The lies and distractions rolled off my tongue with ease, surprising even myself.
Gabriel snaked his arm around my waist and guided me back toward the door. “I would like that. I want to learn all about you. Let me walk you to your bedchamber, and I will meet you for dinner.”
“Of course. I am quite hungry.”
A book about mead ended up in the hands of militia members.
This brought more questions than answers.
I desperately wanted to ask more about the book and look through the pages, but I couldn’t press the issue.
Gabriel couldn’t know I was searching for a way home.
Especially now that I told him I would think about staying in Tironaill.
An empty promise I intended to play out for as long as I could.