Cathrynne looked around with trepidation. “Is this the Plain of Contemplation?”
“It has many names. I call it Char’azul.” Her eyes had a reddish cast as well and they fixed on Cathrynne with alert interest. “I am Merric. What is your name?”
Her voice was honeyed, but Cathrynne sensed danger in the question. “This is only a dream,” she said firmly. “And you are not real.”
Merric laughed. She gazed at her hands, flexing the long, slender fingers. “Funny, I feel quite real. I think it’s you who have come here only in spirit. That does happen every now and then.” Her voice sank to a sultry whisper. “But you have power. I can smell it. Perhaps a bargain can be made.”
Cathrynne frowned. “What kind of bargain?”
“That depends on what you want.”
“I see. And what do you want?”
Merric grinned. She had pointy eyeteeth like a caracal. “Many things . . .” She trailed off, head tilting back. “Ah. He comes at last!”
Cathrynne turned to follow her gaze and spotted a tiny spark in the black sky. It grew bigger by the moment, trailing flame like a comet.
“The time of exile and penance is here. You must not interfere, Cathrynne Rowan Lenormand.”
She startled at the new voice behind her. The red-eyed woman had vanished and Julia Camara stood in her place. This time, the light of madness flickered in the seer’s eyes.
“If you try, the gods will die and you will join me in the kloster for the rest of your days?—”
“Stop!” Cathrynne covered her ears. “Just stop!”
Julia threw her arms wide to the heavens, an expression of mad exultation on her face. “He comes!”
Icy fingers gripped Cathrynne’s heart. It was the angel of her dreams, approaching at a terrible velocity like a star falling to earth, except that this time she could almost see his face?—
Cathrynne sat up in bed, trembling. It had grown dark outside. A sob escaped her just as the door burst open and Gavriel rushed in holding a candle. The bed creaked as he sat on the edge of the feather mattress.
“I heard you scream,” he said, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you well?”
She wordlessly shook her head. He set the candle down, and then his strong arms circled her, drawing her close. He murmured words of comfort and reassurance against her hair and she relaxed against his chest, the warmth of his wings enfolding them both.
“Just a bad dream,” she said, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I . . . I can’t remember it now.”
He tenderly brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You’re safe here, Cat.”
Once he had called her by her cypher surname, Rowan. Then Cathrynne. But the distance between them was melting away. She didn’t care to examine what it meant—especially the dream, which she recalled in vivid detail. She knew she should tell Gavriel about it. Warn him . . .
And she would. But right now, she wanted to kiss him. So that is what she did.
Chapter 37
Cathrynne
Gavriel’s lips were warm and yielding and tasted of mint tea. He allowed her to kiss him for a few seconds, but she sensed that he was holding himself in check.
Frustration boiled over. Cathrynne released his shoulders and sat back. “I wish you would make up your mind, Gavriel Morningstar. If you want me to leave, I will. But don’t give me flowers and come uninvited into my bedroom if you feel nothing for me!”
He blinked, then gave a low, bitter laugh. “Feeling nothing is not the issue, I can assure you. Quite the opposite.” He searched her face. “Is this truly what you want?”
She nodded, her pulse beating wildly. “I’ll make sure no child comes of it. There are potions I can take. But . . . yes. Just once.”
He released a taut breath. His wings spread behind him, black as a raven, as she pulled him down, rolling to her side so they lay face to face. The window was open and she could hear the distant roar of waves against the cliff. Gavriel did not touch her for an agonizing minute.
“I was married twice,” he said softly. “Once to a human, once to an angel. They both died long ago. I could not bear the pain of losing another wife, so I hardened my heart. But you have cracked it open, Cathrynne.”
