Page 36 of Wings of Valor (Silver City University #4)

I stare at myself in the mirror, wishing I was still asleep so I could wake up from this nightmare. The man who stares back at me looks similar enough. He has the same green eyes and sharp jawline as before, but the man in the mirror doesn’t feel like me.

My hair is short now. I’m told I was a mess of patchy, half-shorn hair from shallow cuts on my scalp, so they had no choice but to chop it off.

More than just the changes in my appearance, though, I feel different since captivity.

Not just because of the wing or the scars that line my body from his blade. There are mental ones, too.

It’s partly why I think the others accepting Mira’s betrayal is affecting me so deeply.

If we can forgive her, what’s to say we can’t forgive Auriel?

Uriel? Hell, even her father? I can’t . But I have to find a way through these deep-rooted feelings.

It’s why I’ve done my best to bury them when Mira’s around and hide them from my friends.

We have enough outside bullshit to contend with.

They don’t need to fear I’ll blow up at Mira.

Again.

Besides, according to the others, she saved Cam and helped Hayliel out with her potions and tinctures.

We are not our parents.

I think of Dad and the time we wasted during the interrogation yesterday.

Not only were we unable to find anything helpful, but everything we uncovered only added more questions.

We have legit evidence tying Darok to the rigged bombs and armor, but the asshole doesn’t seem like he has two brain cells to rub together, let alone pull off something so big.

Dad agreed, so we brought our findings to the Archangels.

They promised to look into it, then took advantage of my presence and pestered me with as many questions as possible about my time with Auriel.

I gave them everything I could remember.

The sheer volume of demons I encountered, every whisper I overheard, every question Auriel asked me.

As hard as it was to relive those moments, it was even worse seeing my dad flinch with each recounted piece of torture.

I ran out as soon as I could and spent the next hour by myself, stretching and testing my wing in quiet solitude, trying to erase his horrified expression from my memory. Sleep didn’t come easily last night. I woke myself—and the others—twice with nightmares.

Now, I find myself heading back to the council room, this time with a select group of angels to discuss our next steps to deal with Auriel. Something must have happened for them to haul us here before any of us had coffee.

I’m walking down the hall with Hayliel, Raphael, Theo, and Dina when we run into Castiel and Mira.

I hate that she’s here, hate that I have to hide my distrust of her from everyone, and even hate that she’s in on this planning session.

I don’t smile at her, but at least I don’t say anything offensive.

Sorry. I guess I’m just not perfect.

As we wait for the doors to open, I spot Dad coming down the hallway with Briathos and Raduriel in tow.

Despite the strides I’m told Raphael has made with his brother, he still stiffens when he notices who’s approaching.

But Raduriel doesn’t come toward us like the others. He turns as if he’s going to leave.

Raph hesitates but then whispers to Hayliel and takes off toward his brother.

He’s only gone for a few minutes before returning alone.

He says nothing out loud, but through our joint mental pathways he says, I told him he should be in there with us, but he insisted we go in first with this group and then decide who we need.

From everything I’ve heard about Raph’s brother, this certainly isn’t the response I expected, and it looks like Raphael didn’t either. Perhaps he and his brother can truly turn things around.

The doors open and we’re invited inside the council room, a room that has been transformed since the last time I was here.

The table where all the council members sat and judged me earlier is now laden with plates, cutlery, and other things one would expect to see at a fancy brunch.

On the other side of the room is another table with bagels, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and even a whole-ass ham.

Beside it sits the biggest carafe of coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m instantly salivating.

“Thank you for your prompt arrival,” Mikhael says.

“Grab a plate and load up. We have a long day ahead of us, and it doesn’t end here.

” We make two lines, with most of us going for coffee first—myself included.

Only once we’re all sitting down with our food does Mikhael proceed.

“As some of you know already, Auriel moved up his attack plans. We found out this morning from a trusted source that he intends to attack tomorrow. We’ve developed a plan, which includes evacuation measures and a discreet broadcast warning angels of the impending fight, but we need your help to perfect it.

I implore you to listen closely, ask questions, and speak up should you have any concerns. ”

Tomorrow. Something must have spooked him to act so rashly. That, or he’s trying to force our hand and have us unprepared. I don’t like either reason very much.

Remiel begins the briefing with what we know of the attack.

It’s not just the Fallen district they plan to hit, but the production district as well.

As I chew, I listen and think. If their intentions are to cleanse the impure , it makes sense for them to attack both.

There are very few Pure angels that work in the production district, since it’s considered lesser work.

And if their entire goal is to wipe out the Fallen in Silver City, they wouldn’t go for areas with a heavy Pure population.

Mira clears her throat and asks, “Have we considered that the mole in the guild might also try to strike there, given they’re our largest group of protectors and all happen to be Fallen?”

Mikhael nods. “We have.”

“And?”

The Archangels exchange a look, but it’s Remiel who replies. “And we have no reason to believe that will happen.”

“With all due respect, I disagree.” Mira glances at Hayliel, who gives a slight nod.

“The mole is my father, and while it’s clear that I no longer know who he is, I still understand how he operates.

He knows the ins and outs of the guild. Their defenses, their strategies.

He won’t just pretend they don’t exist. For one, he’ll have assisted Auriel with a plan for each of the guilds’ threat responses, but I believe he’ll do his best to sabotage them, too. ”

The room falls silent. I expect outrage from the Archangels at learning Mira’s secret, the one she kept from all of us until recently, but they don’t seem bothered in the slightest. They glance at one another, probably having a private mental conversation about how best to proceed, but finally, Mikhael nods. “Perfect. Just as we hoped.”

All the color drains from Mira’s face. “Excuse me?”

While I hate to agree with the traitor’s daughter, in this instance I have to. What the fuck?

Remiel gives her the oddest look under the circumstances. A smile. “We’ve known who you are from the moment the mole’s identity was revealed. I suspected you weren’t a willing participant in your father’s treason, and this just proves us right.”

My mind is about to explode with this news, and I sense the others feel the same way.

“You’ve known?” Mira asks, disbelieving.

“Yes. But everything I saw in my visions showed me which side you were on—all except for this one today. If you didn’t speak up about your father here, I’m afraid you’d have gone down a path there’s no coming back from.”

Dina, who’s sitting beside Mira, places a hand on her forearm and squeezes. Well, shit. If the damn Archangels are offering her a clean slate, what gives me the right to hold a grudge?

Except emotions and trust aren’t that easy to win back. Her betrayal feels far too personal for me.

“Now that that’s settled,” Mikhael says with a grin, “how should we handle the situation at the guild?”

Kirach clears his throat. “I suggest we speak to the leading general about this. He knows about Atlas, but if we have any hope of winning the battle tomorrow, we need his—and the guild’s—full cooperation.”

Mikhael raises his mug in salute. “On that, we can agree. In fact, I already sent off a request to meet—off the record. He’ll be joining us soon. How do you propose we split our forces?”

We go through scenario after scenario, with the Archangels listening to each idea and giving it their full consideration. It’s nothing like how I expected things to go. These are the rulers of our city and the famed god killers. Yet they’re listening to us.

Before we break for lunch, I finally speak up with an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head since discussing it with the others.

“Like Castiel, there are other professors on campus who might help. Angels we trust. I think it’s a good idea for us to reach out and invite them to join us.

As much as we don’t want to spread fear, with all due respect, we’re going up against a rogue Archangel, his demon army, and the angels he’s persuaded to his cause.

Given how small our trusted group is, I believe having multiple plans in motion—each known to only a few—gives us an advantage against any hidden traitors. ”

“These angels Zeke speaks of are strong in combat and abilities,” Castiel adds, offering me a smile. “I believe they’ll aid us a great deal.”

The Archangels do that thing again where they’re clearly having a private internal conversation, and when they’re done, Shubael says, “Give us their names before you exit for lunch, and we’ll vet them. Don’t stray far. We need everyone back here in thirty minutes.”