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Doubtful.
He stares me down, anger crackling like lightning, burning just as bright as the fires at his back. “You cannot do this, Dove. I simply won’t allow it.”
There was a time when those words would have been enough. When even the mere thought of his raised voice would root me in place.
Would have kept me here.
But not for this.
“Father, I must. You know it as well as I do.” My voice falters, but I hold his gaze, craning my neck to do so. Because for as tall as Malachi is, I am short in equal measure.
One of the many ways I’m a disappointment to him.
The flaming cloak eddies out with his displeasure and bleeds into a shade of cobalt so dark, the room dims.
Our plane’s fires aren’t for burning. No heat comes from the billowing pyre at the center of our realm.
“It’s a fine impression of a blueberry, Father. It does wonders for your crow’s feet. But that doesn’t change my mind,” I say over the roaring cloak. My voice doesn’t falter this time.
His eyes narrow, darkening. “Careful, daughter.”
“Why? So you can stand there, high and mighty in your austere and righteous fire and proselytize to me, yet again? Try to convert me to your anti-Gael doctrine?”
My father sucks in a breath between his teeth and the flames grow darker, deeper, bordering on an inky indigo.
As long as they don’t go fully black.
“Gael and I are soul-bonded, Father. You know this. Just like you also know that Imustgo find him.” Why can’t he understand this?
The lightning in Malachi’s gaze hardens to steel and he slaps me across the cheek.
The blow lands too quickly for me to block.
Not that I could.
Warm metal on my tongue, a buzzing ring in my ears.
Still, I return my gaze to his face.
Now contorted into a snarl.
“Your place is here, where we—whereI—can protect you from the creatures who only want to use and abuse you. Here, away from the temptation and savagery of the mortal realm.”
Hosts of angels, of dragons, and minotaur, and giants have all bowed to my father’s will. All have fallen in line.
And yet I, his only daughter, his defective progeny, defy him.
And the shame of it is, Iknowhe knows all too well the power of a soul-bond.
My betrothed, the angel Celestus itself deemed my one true match, is stuck in that awful mortal realm just like I was.
Why can’t Malachi see that even if it weren’t for the soul-bond, even if Gael wasn’t my betrothed and our bond didn’t constantly beckon us to each other, I’d still have to find him?
Gael already did the same for me.
But his disapproval of my soul-bond hurts far less than the pain of my father’s refusal to believe in me.
“I don’t need protection anymore, Father.” The warble in my voice belies the conviction hardening deep in my veins.
