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Wrath gaped at her. “Eh?”
“There’s no procedure for this.” Gabriel snatched her tablet back and jabbed at it with two fingers.
Haziel caught Wrath’s slight flinch and stood beside him. She wrapped their fingers together as she asked Vexia, “Why?”
“In all things, there must be balance,” Vexia said. “I am Wrath’s second, and you are Ramiel’s second. If we traded places, the balance would be maintained.”
A low murmur of conversation broke out in the greenroom.
Wrath stared at her. “Are you not content in your position?”
“Lord Wrath.” Vexia’s smile was almost maternal in its tenderness. “There could be no greater honor than serving you. And in serving you, I seek only your happiness.”
“But Vexia.” Ava stood and twitched her breastplate into place. “Do you really want to go and live with these stuffed shits in heaven?”
Shade grinned at her. “I believe the expression is stuffed shirts.”
“I said what I said.” Ava grinned back.
“Must you?” Michael grimaced at Ava. “Must you always be so provocative?”
“Hmm?” Ava cocked her head and tapped her forefinger against her mouth. “I mean, if you want to get technical, I don’t suppose I must.” She threw him a glittering grin. “But it’s so much fun.”
Ramiel had gone still as he studied Vexia. Haziel knew him well enough to know that he was giving the suggestion serious consideration.
“Absolutely not.” Gabriel tossed her tablet to Raguel, who caught it one handed. “The solution to one irregularity is not another.”
“Excuse me.” Raguel raised his hand. “But I do believe there is precedent for such a trade.”
Gabriel glared at him.
Raguel tossed Haziel a quick wink. “If we were to consider it in the light of a trade agreement, a sharing of resources?”
Opening her mouth, Gabriel stopped and then snapped it shut again. “I mean, there was that time…back in…” She turned to Raguel. “When was that?”
“The eighth human century,” Raguel replied. “Then again in the sixteenth. Also during the wars of?—”
“Good thinking, Raguel.” Shade gave a slow hand clap. “A trade of skills and resources to facilitate overcoming our present difficulties. There is plenty of precedent for that.”
“All in favor,” Azrael grinned and called.
All hands shot up. Except for Ramiel, and Haziel held her breath as she watched him.
Ramiel gave Vexia a thorough once over. “I accept.”
The greenroom breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Wrath’s hand tightened over hers. “Time to leave, angel.”
* * *
Haziel was almost sure Wrath was nervous as he led her into his castle fortress. The first thing that struck her was all the color. Rich creams, deep umbers, and colorful mosaics. The next thing that struck here were all the demons. Despite the thinning of his horde, there were still many demons around the castle, and they all seemed to be staring at her.
Holding tight to her hand, Wrath led her up a sweeping cream and ochre staircase. “Normally, Vexia would do this part.” He shrugged.
“She loves you, Wrath.” Haziel hated to think of Vexia leaving as hurting him. “She did this for you.”
He grimaced. “I hope you’re right about that.”
