Page 128 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

But the room held its breath, that if someone so much as sneezed, shots would be fired. She may have been good at negotiating deals once upon a time, but negotiating this kind of stand-off…

Then, almost imperceptibly, Lord Gellar and Father Michael shared a nod. Gellar must have recognized who and what the Archangel represented, but as a man who commanded warriors for centuries, he knew when he was in the presence of something that outranked him in a way that had nothing to do with politics.

Gellar didn’t kneel; he nodded, and that was enough to calm the rest of the room. The men sheathed their weapons, and the Archangel settled. Not deflated. He simply contained himself, somehow tucking all that ancient power back into the shape of the priest she recognized.

It was a disguise. One he had been wearing her entire life.

She pushed past Zarek because she had questions.

But Zarek caught her hand again, not only to protect her but to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Now that she thought about it, she’d never truly been alone.

“Come, little one.” Father Michael extended his hand. “Walk with me. Ask your questions. You’ve been carrying them long enough.”

She had taken his hand a thousand times before. But this time, it was so different that she hesitated.

“The answers to your questions are for your ears only, Angela. Don’t worry, Zarek,” Father Michael said warmly, “we won’t go far. I’ve navigated this young woman’s temper more times than I can count. Though I’ll admit, her teenage years set a standard that’s been difficult to surpass.”

“Only because I have questions.” Angela took his hand.

“How did you know?” Zarek tugged on her other hand, not letting her go. “You told me you never knew who your father was.”

She turned back to Zarek, then to Father Michael.

Two men on either side of her.

On one side, her father—the Archangel who had been in her life for thirty years, never once sharing the truth. He was the past she thought she’d never have, handed to her now, here, in the ruins of the Keep in a realm she hadn’t chosen to visit and wasn’t allowed to leave.

On the other side, Zarek—the warrior who had pulled her out of her happy single life, only to break his own laws, the scale of which she had yet to fully understand. But he too had kept the truth of the Claiming from her because he’d been afraid of what she’d do with it.

Both of them reached for her.

Both of them, in their own ways, with their own reasons—that she had no doubt came from a place of genuine care—had made decisions about her life without asking her first.

Her mother had kept secrets from her. Father Michael had kept secrets from her. Even Zarek had kept secrets from her. And Bellus, without even meaning to, had just confirmed in passing that she was something that technically shouldn’t exist, a fact that this entire room seemed to be absorbing more calmly than she was.

Was any of this her choice?

Had anyone, at any point, simply asked her?

Well, she was done being the last person in the room to be consulted about her own life.

She looked at Zarek. Then at her father. And pulled her hands free from them both.

Remembering something important—she was her own woman, who lived in a world where she’d worked damned hard to be that person. Making her own choices, taking responsibility for her own actions, because she’d made those choices. For herself.

“I didn’t know he was my father,” she said with a coldness of simply presenting the facts, “Not until the dreamscape. It was the first question I asked when Father Michael showed up as my guide.” She held Zarek’s gaze a moment longer, letting him read the link between them: I’m not running. I’m just not being handled anymore.

Then she turned to her father, with a stack of questions she’d been carrying her whole life sitting right behind her teeth.

“Walk with me.” Father Michael gestured toward the garden.

She nodded because it was her choice to go.

But Zarek took a step closer, glaring at Father Michael with absolute mistrust. “If you were there, why didn’t you protect her in the dreamscape?”

“Angela was never in any danger,” Father Michael replied. “She simply needed you to bring her back.” His expression wasn’t quite a smile, but the near cousin of one. “The Claiming you two share is the strongest I have ever witnessed. Nothing will come between you. You might want to consider the ancient binding ceremony, Zarek—the marriage rite.”