She turned. Durian stood beside her, the wind ruffling his hair. His eyes were fixed on the open sea beyond the harbor mouth.
“We did it,” she corrected.
He grinned. The unrepentant smirk of a scapegrace. Of a poor boy from nowhere whose dreams were as big as the Southern Ocean. He winked at her.
And then he was gone.
Chapter 39
Gavriel
He threw open the balcony doors. Wind gusted into the library, scattering the neatly sorted papers like autumn leaves. Letters about trade routes and tariffs, legislative updates and economic forecasts. The latest census data and what it meant for each province. All the minutiae that kept the empire running smoothly.
Once Gavriel had relished his lofty position, steering the course of this great ship of state with a steady hand. A stroke of his pen and laws were overturned, treaties renegotiated. All for the higher good—or so he had told himself. Yet he’d worn blinders when it came to Sion’s unspoken caste system.
The White Foxes had abused Cathrynne with impunity because they knew the word of a cypher would not be taken seriously. And Gavriel had played no small part in upholding this injustice. How would her life have been different if she was never taken from her family? If she had grown up with both mother and father in a safe and loving home?
Seeing the light in Cathrynne’s eyes cool to contempt had been wrenching but no more than he deserved. It was why he had put it off until the last moment. By the three gods, it had taken all his willpower to stop and tell her the truth. Just the memory of her in his arms lit a bonfire again.
Gavriel drew a steadying breath and flexed his wings, testing them for long flight.
“Leaving again so soon, sir?”
Edvin Yarl stood in the doorway, a sprig of purple thistle livening the buttonhole of his black morning coat.
“I made a mistake,” Gavriel said. “I must put it right.”
Yarl tilted his head. “I have never heard you admit to an error,” he said dryly. “Not once in forty years.”
“I fear I have been too proud.” Gavriel studied the man who had given him unwavering loyalty and wise counsel, who had foregone a wife and children for stuffy conference rooms and irregular hours. “I know I have not been the easiest employer.”
“Sir?”
Sentiment had never been Gavriel’s strong suit. His father had rarely given praise, or even thanks. “I only wish to tell you that your service has been exemplary. And that your friendship means a great deal to me.”
Yarl looked alarmed. “That sounds like a farewell.”
“No.” Gavriel forced a smile. “It is simply an overdue thank-you.”
Yarl stood straighter. “The pleasure has been mine, Lord Morningstar.”
Gavriel felt a twinge of regret. For what exactly, he could not say.
“I shall return,” he said. “But it might be some time. Goodbye, Edvin.”
He strode to the balcony and launched himself into the night. Misty rain swirled around him as he skimmed above the heath, then banked northwest.
He’d sent Alluin Westwind to the Plain of Contemplation without an instant’s hesitation. The seraphim had violated the first edict of Sion and his punishment must be swift and harsh—or so Gavriel had believed at the time. Now Westwind’s words returned to haunt him.
I would die for her. Perhaps that means nothing to the law, but you are a man. You must have passions and desires.
Gavriel had rejected the argument out of hand, but he could not honestly do so now. After seven centuries of life, he finally understood what it was to love another being. To yearn for someone so completely that the world seemed empty and cold without them.
The wrong he had committed against Cathrynne and her family was a festering wound that would never heal until he found a way to correct it. She might not forgive him even if he made amends, but he would do it anyway. He would do anything for her, even if it meant defying his father. Twenty years of exile was long enough. Justice without compassion was no justice at all.
Of course, no angel had ever returned from the Plain of Contemplation. Alluin Westwind would be the first.
* * *
