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“I will go through first to receive them,” Azrael said. But before he stepped through, he added, “See you soon, your Majesty.”

Callan nodded before he began helping more people to their feet and ushering them to the portal. The three men were the last to go through, and one stopped before Callan.

“There are more of us. Throughout the kingdom,” he said.

“I know,” Callan answered. “Help is coming.”

The man nodded, and Callan sent him through with a message to tell Azrael he could close the portal. He was planning to go back down the passage and wait for Mordecai and Nuri, but when he turned to head that way, he found a seraph standing there.

“A mortal king,” the seraph sneered, and Callan immediately recognized his voice as the male who had been arguing with Nuri and Mordecai.

Callan had sheathed his sword while helping the people, but he had it drawn with his next breath, instantly falling into a defensive stance that Eliza had drilled into him.

The seraph huffed a laugh. “Mortals really are the lowest form of intelligence, aren’t they?”

“There are not mortals where you come from?” Callan asked, moving with the seraph as he began to circle.

The seraph smirked. “My world is not a place for mortals. They are not even worthy of menial tasks there.”

“Then it seems to me you should not be making assumptions about a people you know nothing about,” he replied, noting that the seraph’s left wing appeared slightly injured, and he favored his left side.

The seraph scoffed. “Mortals rarely have purpose. You, however, are in luck. You do serve a purpose today.”

“Is it rescuing innocent people? Because if so, that purpose has been achieved,” Callan retorted, still tracking the seraph.

“I will let my commander deal with you for that stunt,” the seraph gritted out.

“So you do nothing then? From what I gathered earlier, you simply follow orders.”

“On second thought, I’ll detain you myself,” the seraph snarled, drawing his own blade. “Then maybe I won’t have to answer to the commander anymore.”

Callan knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the male talking for long, but he had succeeded in getting under his skin. It made him impulsive with his attacks, which also made them easier to predict. He dodged the first swing, spinning to the right. The momentum of the swing kept the seraph propelling forward, and Callan was able to bring his blade down on the injured wing.

The seraph let out a cry of pain, the wing dragging as he whirled. “You are dead,” he said with a growl, and he rushed him. He was too fast for Callan to avoid this time, and he was thrown to the ground, his head cracking on the stone ground, black spots appearing in his vision.

The seraph tossed his sword to the side before kicking Callan’s weapon out of reach as well, clearly not deeming Callan a threat anymore. He wasn’t wrong, but before he could drag in another breath, a shadow was at the seraph’s throat.

Death’s Shadow, to be exact.

She tore his throat clean out, spitting it to the ground a moment before Mordecai appeared, severing wings and head.

“Nice work, your Majesty,” Nuri said, reaching down to help him up.

“Nice work? I would have died if not for you,” Callan rasped, the room spinning slightly.

She waved a hand dismissively. “I was watching the whole time. All that training has paid off.”

“You couldn’t have intervened sooner?”

“Noting the weak wing and capitalizing on it? Perfection,” Nuri went on wistfully.

Callan blinked at her, his vision still blurry. “Can we get out of here, please?”

“Agreed,” Mordecai said, reaching for them.

A second later he was back in Windonelle, and his stomach was revolting against all the Traveling of the day. He sank down on a nearby log by the fire, his head dropping to his hands.

“Callan?”