Page 65 of Dark Bringer (Lord of Everfell #1)

Gavriel

H e 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.

* * *

The stars came out, hard and bright. Gavriel followed the rugged coastline of Sundland where land met sea in a clash of rock and foaming waves. The Wick of Aith spread below him, a wide bay dotted with isles of black granite where seabirds nested in countless numbers.

His wings found a thermal rising from the sea and he soared higher, conserving strength for the final push. After some hours, the coastline gave way to boreal forest. Pine and spruce, broken by the occasional frozen lake. Smoke rose from isolated villages tucked into valleys.

Sunset painted the landscape gold as he passed over Isai Minye. The capital of Sundland gleamed below, alabaster stone and rose marble, its avenues laid out in symmetrical geometric patterns. His brother Michael ruled here, extending Valoriel’s will with rigid obedience.

Beyond Isai Minye, the green foothills of the Sundar Kush shouldered up from the valley floor, gradually rising to alpine tundra and at last the death zone of nearly vertical peaks that marked the northern rim of the empire.

Ice tried to form at the edges of Gavriel’s wings, but the heat of his blood melted it before the weight could drag him down.

Full dark had claimed the sky by the time Mount Meru appeared. The mountain soared impossibly high, dwarfing the nearby peaks like a giant among mortals. Thousands of lights twinkled across its face.

Gavriel aimed for the Censura, a windswept platform hewn from the black rock of Mount Ogo.

To his relief, it was empty. Sometimes his father or his brother Michael presided over trials here, but neither was present.

Gavriel alit upon the icy ground, his feet sliding a pace before he regained his balance.

Snow caught in his dark hair as he carefully made his way to the rear wall and pressed a small depression in the stone.

A hidden panel swung open. Heart beating faster, he withdrew an oblong box from the recess.

For a moment, he hesitated. Other than loving Cathrynne Rowan, this was the first openly rebellious act of his life.

He knew that his father would not condone bringing Alluin Westwind back from the Plain of Contemplation.

Gavriel was not even certain such a thing could be done, or if Alluin still lived. But he had to try.

He opened the box and gazed upon the sinister black wand that lay within.

The Rod of Penance. He didn’t know where it had come from.

If his father had made it, or if it was, perhaps, even older than the gods themselves.

But when he touched it, the rod seemed to recognize him, coming alive in his hand.

It grew warm and Gavriel sensed power gathering.

The words of banishing always included the name of the accused.

Gavriel hoped he could summon Alluin back to Mount Meru in the same way.

He turned to the great double-doors set into the wall, both carved with dark runes.

The outline of the archway blended with the rock and was nearly invisible to the naked eye—until he raised the rod and spoke the ancient word of opening.

A flickering light appeared along the cracks.

It gave scant illumination, like weak starlight.

As one, the doors silently swung wide, revealing the abyss beyond.

He stared down at the roiling clouds. If he succeeded, Valoriel need never know what he had done. He would quietly bring Alluin Westwind back to Arioch. He could stay at Everfell while Gavriel found a way to contact Cathrynne . . .

A soft sound made him turn. Gavriel scowled as a small figure with hair and wings the pure white of an egret landed on the platform.

“What are you doing here, brother?” she asked innocently. “I thought you had gone home.”

Annoyance surged through him. He quickly hid the rod behind his back. “I might ask the same. We are far from your solar, Haniel.”

She gave him a cool smile. “I happened to be passing. But since I am here, we should talk, brother.”

“Yes, let’s,” he snapped. “We can start with how you tried to kill me.”

A delicate brow arched. “Such melodrama,” Haniel retorted.

“If you were less stiff-necked and an ounce more sensible, we could have worked together to find the source of the kaldurite. I only wanted you confined to your bed while my agent found the girl from Pota Pras.” She gave him an apologetic look that he felt sure was feigned.

“I didn’t realize how potent the stones were.

But you are fine now, and there is no permanent harm done, is there? ”

Gavriel’s eyes narrowed. “Your agent? You mean Levi Bottas?”

She sighed. “Levi took matters into his own hands. I never would have killed Casolaba in such a stupidly spectacular fashion. He meant it as a warning to the witches, but it only resulted in them calling for your aid.”

“And the first attempt on my life?” Gavriel said acidly. “Also an unfortunate accident?”

She ignored this. “I gave Levi one last chance to redeem himself with Kal Machena. Unfortunately, he bungled that as well. The girl is gone again, as you must know.”

Gavriel shook his head. “What is he? Some kind of weirdling?”

Humans and witches had mingled their bloodlines for centuries. The unions were not forbidden, but they did occasionally result in people with odd powers.

Haniel studied him for a long moment, her face impassive. “Leviathan is nephilim,” she said at last.

“Nephilim?” Gavriel frowned. “What is that?”

“The offspring of witches and angels,” Haniel said evenly, “if the mother is angelic.”

Gavriel had been told that those unions never produced offspring. That only male angels could sire a child with a witch. He thought of the man’s blue eyes and stared at her in shock. “ You are Levi’s mother.”

She gazed back with quiet defiance.

“Who is the father?” Gavriel demanded.

“That is not your concern.”

The hypocrisy of it stunned him. “Does Valoriel know about this?”