“In New York City following my mission to monitor developments at the CRF.” It was the truth. He just didn’t mention the part about his frequent visits to Montana to check up on his little sister.
“Did you know her whereabouts during your time with the CRF?” The direct question came from Tulan. Always astute and paying attention. Part of his gift rested in the art of deception. So lying to him wasn’t an option.
“I did,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t come forward with this information?” Silvia demanded.
“I was never asked about Astasiya, only Caro,” Gabriel pointed out.
“You knew what we desired,” Silvia accused.
“As Tulan recently pointed out, I’m not privy to council matters.” A strange sort of bubbling sensation clawed at Gabriel’s throat after he finished speaking, his chest rumbling a little as a result. It took him a second to realize that he wanted to laugh at his play on words. His lips nearly quirked up, but he forcibly swallowed the inane reaction and maintained a bored facade.
Or as bored as he could with his humor rioting inside.
He’d indulge in the chuckle later, once this situation ended.
With his luck, it would be after his empathy died, rendering the need useless.
Silvia wasn’t impressed, but the others within her row were all studying Gabriel intensely. There were thirty-nine of them in total, making up the strongest circle in this theater hall.
Seraphim of Justice—Silvia.
Seraphim of Darkness—Tulan.
Seraphim of Warriors—Adriel.
Seraphim of Violence—Rubeen.
Seraphim of Mind—Stahr.
He looked at each of them—most of them the originals of their lines, or the second-in-command because their originals were lost to slumber. All of their names and abilities came to him in a flash, his early childhood spent memorizing them all and their gifts. He was destined to take his father’s seat, which sat two spaces away from an empty chair.
That particular spot hadn’t been filled for thousands of years because it belonged to the Seraphim of Life and Resurrection. Osiris. He had no others in his line to occupy the position in his absence.
Only Sethios.
And Sethios didn’t yet have wings.
But Astasiya did.
The Seraphim needed her, of that Gabriel was certain. What he didn’t know was why. She served a greater purpose than Osiris, one the council had known and refused to share. He felt it deep within that they were hiding something. Which was the only reason they were considering him now, not issuing an edict for him to bring Astasiya to them with force, if required.
They wanted her to come to them willingly. Just like Osiris wanted to recruit her willing participation.
So what is it that she can do that has all of you utterly obsessed with her? he wondered. He’d witnessed some of her power when she battled her grandfather, but she hadn’t been anywhere near winning that sparring match. He’d gone easy on her, had spent more time showboating and testing her than actually trying to hurt her.
Granted, it’d been an impressive show for one so young.
However, the Fates must have predicted something far grander for her. Something… terrifying.
Yes.
He could see the fear in some of the Seraphim around him. Subtle, but there. A hint of anxiety floating on the wind.
Gabriel inhaled the pungent aroma, confirming the accuracy of his assessment with Clara’s talent.
They fear her.
