Chanara.
There were so many colors in the coliseum—a fact Gabriel had never noticed until today. He was simply awed by it all, the fluttering of wings a cacophony of sound that he found to be rather pleasing to the ear.
His lips threatened to curl, his heart warming to the sensation.
Then the absurdity of the thought kicked him in the gut. He was surrounded by Seraphim, all studying him for a reaction, and he was two seconds away from smiling.
Pull yourself together, he chided himself. Admiring the way the sun plays off all the plumes decorating the open-aired auditorium isn’t practical or useful.
Except it was rather beautiful.
Stop it.
His father cleared his throat from the second row, his red wings tucked behind him in his backless chair.
In this room, everyone remained ethereal except for the one under scrutiny, which left Gabriel standing alone in the center in his corporeal form while everyone else misted in their seats.
Hundreds of Seraphim encircled him, all sitting at varying heights in a myriad of rows ringing the auditorium floor. Above him was a pure blue sky. No clouds. Just the sun illuminating the cascading colors of feathers fluttering in the air.
“Would you like to make a statement, Gabriel?” his father asked by way of beginning the proceedings.
“I’ll wait until I’ve been formally accused,” he replied in as flat a tone as he could manage. He would prefer to learn what they knew about him first rather than unceremoniously give up information.
His father nodded, respecting his logical path forward. “Cavalina,” he prompted, waving at the air before them.
A series of images appeared in a cloud of mist, all projected through the female Seraphim’s violet gaze. She was from the recollection line—a Seraphim family that could collect and retain information and then present it visually before a crowd. The female essentially served as an evidence bank for debates.
Photos streamed across the room, breaking out into tablet-sized images that flew upward to each council member to roll before their eyes like a floating television screen.
Gabriel watched the show with a bored expression, not surprised at all that they showcased the Hydraians and Ichorians at his estate. He’d given up trying to hide them all over a week ago. This fate had been inevitable since the day Sethios and Caro met.
Gabriel hadn’t understood the purpose of her mission, had felt it was dangerous and unproductive, until he’d learned about her pregnancy from the Fates. That was the day his perception of the council shifted. He no longer trusted their guidance, and that, unfortunately, included his own father.
Osiris had been a problem for millennia. Why send Caro twenty-five years ago to deliver a pointless edict? Because they needed her to create Stas. So why not just tell her that? She was a dutiful Seraphim. She would have played her part without all the lies and deceit.
Which was how he knew there had to be a missing piece to all of this.
They wanted to use Stas in some way that Caro never would have agreed to allow, even with her faithful obedience.
That’d been the reason he’d pledged fealty to his sister, something he had no doubt the council knew now.
His father would be able to sense it with a simple prod through their bond. But his expression and aura gave nothing away.
The entire room was eerily silent when it came to emotional reactions. No anger. No disappointment. Just an air of nothingness.
Seraphim found no cause or logic behind emotions.
Gabriel had always thought he agreed. However, Clara’s power had awoken him to a new method of understanding, even when it came to evaluating himself.
He did care to an extent. It was why he’d aligned himself with Stas. Why he’d helped Sethios and Caro twenty-five years ago. Why he tolerated Ezekiel. Why he felt a nagging annoyance earlier when he thought Vera had betrayed them.
Gabriel felt.
It wasn’t the same as a human, or anywhere close to the Hydraians, but in his heart, he was intensely loyal to those he considered his.
His sister.
His mother.
