“You are awake, my lord!” a cheerful voice said.
Fenian Dawnsinger flitted through the arched doorway. The cherubim was a small, round man with flowing white hair. Prismatic colors swirled in his eyes. He was the seneschal who attended to the six archangels when they came home to visit. Gavriel had known him from boyhood and was fond of Fenian, but there was nothing he despised more than feeling ignorant and helpless.
“How long have I been here?” he demanded.
Fenian hovered above the foot of the bed, wings fluttering anxiously. “A fortnight, my lord.”
“Two weeks!” Gavriel exclaimed.
The investigation into Casolaba’s murder had gone cold by now. And what about Cathrynne? Had she returned to Kirith? Been reassigned to other duties? How would he manage to see her again if . . .
Gavriel tamped down this train of thought. “Where are my companions?” he asked, trying to sound dispassionate.
Fenian looked confused. “Your companions, my lord?”
“My secretary Edvin Yarl, for one,” Gavriel snapped. “The cyphers Cathrynne Rowan and Mercy Blackthorn, for another. Where are they?”
Fenian quailed. “I’m afraid you must ask your father, Lord Morningstar. He will be pleased to hear you’re awake.”
Gavriel mastered his temper with effort. “It is not your fault. I apologize for my rudeness.” He drew a deep breath, the frigid air clearing his head. “Who brought me here?”
Fenian brightened. “It was Lady Suriel. She sat at your bedside for the first week, but when you did not wake, she departed and asked me to keep watch over you.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No, my lord.”
Gavriel sighed “Very well. Tell my father that I will come to him presently. I assume he is in the Chorale?”
Valoriel had always been a stern and remote figure, one to be obeyed without question and who rarely offered a word of praise. Naturally, this only made Gavriel want to please him all the more.
Then came the falling-out with the other two gods, Minerva and Travian. Over the long centuries that followed, Valoriel withdrew from public life, often ordering Gavriel to stand as regent in his stead.
Music was the only thing his father cared about anymore. He would sit for months without moving, his gaze heavy-lidded and distant, listening to the choir. Once, Gavriel had asked him a question and received the answer a month later, with no acknowledgment that any time had passed.
He understood that despite Valoriel’s physical form, he was not an angel but a god, and gods would always be unfathomable. Yet his father was no longer the energetic, decisive being Gavriel had once known. Secretly, he feared Valoriel was dying. Perhaps because the other parts of him—Travian and Minerva—had gone away.
“Ah, no,” Fenian said. “He is at the Citadel.”
Gavriel’s brows rose. “Is he?”
“Yes, he spends most days observing the legions in their exercises.”
“How long has that been the case?”
“Several years now, my lord.”
Gavriel had not been to Mount Meru for two decades. Perhaps his father was improving. It gladdened his heart.
“Shall I bring food and wine?” Fenian asked.
Gavriel realized that he was very hungry, but he did not wish to delay seeing his father. He needed answers more than he needed sustenance. “Not just yet. Have my clothes been cleaned?”
“Indeed. You can find them in the wardrobe. I will summon seraphim to escort you.” Fenian kept his expression neutral, but Gavriel knew what he was thinking.
That I am too weak to fly on my own.
“That won’t be necessary,” Gavriel said.
