They followed her into an octagonal chamber of naked stone and a few sparse furnishings. Suriel gestured for the seraphim to lay Gavriel on a backless sofa of dark blue velvet. “Fetch Asmodel,” she commanded. The angels flew off.
She knelt beside Gavriel, her gown pooling on the floor. “Who would have the temerity to do such a thing?”
Yarl swallowed. “I fear it was Haniel,” he said.
Suriel’s head snapped up. “Haniel? Are you certain?”
“No one else came in contact with Lord Morningstar for at least twelve hours before he fell ill,” Yarl said. “She is the only one who could have entered his bedchamber unnoticed.”
Suriel merely stared at him, and Cathrynne wondered what she was thinking.
“Very brief contact with kaldurite may be tolerable for angels,” Cathrynne added, “but prolonged exposure leads to death. We’re certain it was her who hid it within his wing feathers.”
“Where is this stone now?”
“We don’t have it anymore, my lady. Yarl gave it to my partner, Mercy Blackthorn. We were attacked in the forest by witches. White Foxes, I think. She stayed behind to fight them off.”
Suriel’s full lips pressed into a line. “So you have no proof of this claim.”
“It is connected to the death of Consul Casolaba,” Yarl said quickly. “And a boy from Pota Pras. Haniel might be behind those deaths, as well.”
Skepticism tinged her voice. “Yet you were attacked by White Foxes?”
Yarl hesitated. “We did not see them.”
“But they worked lithomancy,” Cathrynne added.
“This conspiracy runs deep,” Yarl said. “We are still wading through the shallows. But this latest attempt to kill Lord Morningstar is without a doubt connected to his investigation.”
Suriel studied Gavriel’s ashen face, deep in thought. Finally, she turned to Yarl. “You will tell me everything that transpired since your arrival in Kota Gelangi.” Her gaze shifted to Cathrynne, cooling somewhat. “Thank you for bringing my brother to safety. But I will not permit a witch—or half witch—to remain in my tower.”
Cathrynne had expected the dismissal, but it stung nonetheless. “I understand,” she said stiffly. “I’ll report to the local chapter house.” She paused. “Just tell me, can you save him?”
“I will do everything in my power,” Suriel replied. “His will is strong. If anyone can return from the brink, it is Gavriel.”
Yarl gave Cathrynne a small nod, his eyes communicating silent gratitude. Another seraphim appeared—presumably the Asmodel that Suriel had summoned. With a bow and last glance at the motionless body on the couch, Cathrynne turned and descended the spiral staircase alone. She had done her duty. It was better this way. There was nothing she could do to help him now, and to remain in his presence would only risk exposing the feelings she desperately wished would go away. Once Mercy turned up at the chapter house, they should both return to Kirith.
Yet the thought of Kal Machena out there somewhere, running for her life, made Cathrynne hesitate. It felt cowardly, abandoning the girl to her fate. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes. She was too tired to think straight. A good night’s rest and she would decide what to do.
Outside, Arjevica’s streets lay empty. It was warmer here than in the hills. Puddles of rain dotted the wide boulevards that ran outward from the Angel Tower like the spokes of a wheel. A seraphim at the gate gave her directions to the chapter house.
Funny how the city was both familiar and strange. Several times, she recognized a landmark—the ballet, for instance—but a few streets later, everything seemed foreign. The lanes grew narrower and lined with dark shops. She must have taken a wrong turn. The seraphim said it was only about a twenty-minute walk and she had been going for longer than that.
She was looking for someone to ask when the purr of an engine broke the quiet. Headlights swept the wet cobblestones. The car slowed. When she saw it was a Jentzen Mirage, Cathrynne fisted a stone.
The car pulled alongside. The driver’s side window rolled down. A male witch with short dark hair graying at the temples and blandly attractive features leaned out, one arm casually resting on the door.
“Get in,” he said in a reasonable tone. “I’ll give you a lift to the chapter house.”
“Piss off.” She kept walking.
The Mirage kept pace, driving slowly alongside. “We don’t have to be on opposite sides of this, Cathrynne.”
She glanced over at him. “Is that why you sent your thugs?”
He smiled. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”
At the end of the street, headlights flared as a second Mirage braked hard and skidded in sideways, blocking her path. The Kievad Rus versions of Lump and Crump emerged. Ash, with her candy-red hair and face full of jewelry, and her hulking metal-toothed partner.
