Page 81 of Alastair
“Cool. But first, go drink some tea. You’re cranky.”
I felt him leave my head. At the stove, I stirred the oats, the sinking in the pit of my stomach taking away what little appetite I’d had. My spine stiffened as I sensed another presence. I turned around just as the patio door slid open.
“Morning,” Michael greeted me with a smile as he stepped into the kitchen, closing the glass door.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.” But I was certainly surprised to seehim.Did he often visit Lazarus first thing in the morning?
“I’m not.” He placed a small, lidded wicker basket on the counter. “Lazarus confided in me about his intentions with you.”
“Aren’t you on the council that forbade him from pursuing me?” What was in the basket? He was like a beefed-up Little Red Riding Hood minus the cloak. If only a wolf would eat him. And yes, I was fully aware of my snarky, bitter jealousy.
Pride didn’t like him either. My sin growled low in my chest.
“I voted in favor of your bond, but I was, unfortunately, overruled. When Lazarus told me the seal broke, I considered our former ruling null and void. I’ve not mentioned it to the rest of the council, though I’m confident they will see it the same, barring one member.”
“Uriel.”
“Aye.”
“What’s his problem? Why is he such an ass?”
“Uriel follows the rules. Never bending in the slightest.” A hard gleam hit his brown eyes. “I’m more forgiving but can be just as strict if warranted.”
“Mephistopheles,” I said, remembering the scars on the fallen angel’s back when we journeyed to retrieve Kallias’ soul Halloween night. “He rebelled with Lucifer and later regretted it. When he came before the council for his judgment, you ripped off his wings and exiled him to the realm of the lost.”
Albeit brief, sadness touched his expression. “Yes.”
“Will you do that to Lazarus?” I could barely get the question out. “If the council doesn’t see it your way and decides to punish him for being with me?”
Michael placed his hands on the edge of the counter, knuckles going white as he gripped it tight. “Let’s not speak of this any longer.”
In silent agreement, I turned back to the stove. Once the oats were done, I removed the pot from the burner and added honey and cinnamon before checking the tea. It was done too.
When I glanced back at Michael, he was smiling. “What?” I asked.
“Your presence this early means you stayed the night, I take it?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Still so defensive. Maybe one day you won’t see me as the enemy.” He sighed and opened the lid on the basket. “I brought these for Lazarus. You’re more than welcome to have one as well. Perhaps add them to your breakfast.”
Too curious to resist, I stepped closer to peek inside. “Apples?”
“His favorite.” Michael held up the biggest apple I’d ever seen. It was deep red in color, with thin lines of gold curving down the sides. “Grown in the celestial orchard. A perfect balance of sweet and tart with a sharp crispness. These thrive in winter.”
“Winter? I thought it was always a sunny paradise up there.”
“It is, depending on where you are. We have areas of the kingdom for each season. A land of winter, one for spring, an acreage for autumn, and the green summer fields where the palace is located.” He smiled at the apple. “Don’t let him fool you. He loves these, even if he’s too stubborn to say it.”
Despite my annoyance that Michael clearly knew more about Lazarus than I did, I couldn’t stop the swelling of my heart and the corresponding stomach flutter.
Was that why Lazarus smelled like apples? The origin of a mate’s scent differed between couples. To Galen, Simon smelled like rain, which helped soothe him when Wrath tried to take over. To Daman, Warrin smelled like spruce trees covered in snow because of where the ice dragon lived, combined with Daman’s love of the forest. But the scent could come from something the person enjoyed too. Like crisp winter apples.
“Lazarus denies himself the things he desires,” Michael said, placing the apple back in the basket. “He thinks himself unworthy of life’s pleasures. Which is why I sneak away to pluck these for him when I can.” Brown eyes settled on me. “And it’s why I’ll fight for your bond. He’s suffered enough. I only wish for his happiness. Yours too.”
My respect for the archangel grew in that moment, and the tinges of bitterness and jealousy faded. He was like Konnar. Well, he was to Lazarus what Konnar was to me. A best friend.
“Thank you,” I told him as my heart rose into my throat. Then, to lessen the awkward, too sentimental moment, I waved a hand at the basket. “Um. For the apples.”
