Page 98 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“Yes.” His brother clicked a few times on the computer, then tilted the monitor toward Malachi. “She’s covered from every angle. And the alarms will go off if there is any movement on the sides of the house.”

He pointed toward Rhys’s chair as Maxim and Leo drifted from the room. “I’ll watch her. At least give her some privacy.”

Rhys looked like he wanted to object, but a quick word from Damien called him from the library, leaving Malachi alone with only the image of his mate in black and white, staring off into the distance with haunted eyes.

Maxim creptinto the library an hour later, at sunset, as Malachi was watching Ava.

“You have a lovely mate, brother.”

“I do.”

“An unexpected blessing to our kind.”

Malachi had the urge to cover the computer so his fellow scribe could not see her. But Maxim only glanced at Ava briefly before turning to Malachi.

“He was with her for weeks, and no harm came to her.”

His voice held a warning note. “Maxim…”

“I believe there is something happening,” Maxim said. “There are shifts in Vienna. Then Ava appeared like this. Strangers are showing up in Istanbul. So many rumors among my associates. I hear them, Malachi. I know everyone thinks me a gambler and a rogue, but—”

“Max—”

“Something is happening.” He leaned forward. “And I think she is the key. There is something she is or has that Jaron has an interest in.”

“Of course he does!” Malachi finally burst. “She’s the first new Irina in centuries! However she came to be, she could be the key to restoring our race. And if the Irin are made whole again, the Fallen could be conquered.”

“Is that what we’re truly fighting for? Don’t be like Damien and follow the Council blindly.”

Malachi narrowed his eyes. “You speak rashly, Scribe. And you make assumptions that betray your years.”

“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t see things. Damien is wise, but he never questions orders from Vienna.”

“And you question them too often.”

“I only seek to see our people whole again,” Maxim said. “We are constantly at war, but where are the Irina? Why are there none on the council any longer? When did the future of our race become the will of eight old men? There are too many secrets.”

“The Irina retreated of their own will,” Malachi said. “Were we to force them to stay?”

Maxim sat back, no argument rising to his lips as he turned his eyes back to Ava. “She is the key. And Jaron showed her no aggression. She should meet with him and find out why. He is not an unreasonable creature.”

“He’s a Fallen.”

“Now who’s making assumptions?” Maxim said. “You admitted that the angel was helping her cope with her abilities before we knew what she was. Perhaps there is more to him than you think.”

Malachi sat back, staring toward the screen. Ava wrapped her arms around herself as the evening breeze picked up. A slight shiver shook her frame. He immediately rose to go to her. She’d left her sweater in their room.

“I must go,” he said. “We’ll talk more later.”

“It’s really rather simple,” Maxim said as Malachi reached the door. “Why don’t you ask Ava what she wants to do?”

He turned. “She’s mine to protect.”

The young scribe shook his head. “She’s all of ours to protect, brother, but she has a will of her own. Ask her.”

Malachi went to their room first, grabbing a blanket from the closet before he climbed the twisting staircase to the tiled garden on the roof. The sun was setting over the city, and the sky was painted a lush golden red. Ava turned when she heard him, then silently held out her hand.

He went to her, sliding behind her on the chaise where she sat and pulling her back into his body as he wrapped the blanket around them both. Ava leaned against him, their earlier argument seemingly forgotten as she took a deep breath and tucked her face against his neck.

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