Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Because though the latter two were no longer part of Raphael’s Tower, they would ever be part of the Seven. Part of their family. Everyone in the world knew that—and while some of the old ones muttered that it was “highly irregular,” those same old ones were also well used to Illium’s shenanigans.
At this point, those same stuffy elders were apt to suffer an attack of the vapors should the Archangel of Stars—as Illium had been named by his people—suddenly begin to follow the unwritten laws of power.
“It’s either very bad news or very good news.” Izzy, his eyes narrowed and his golden curls glinting in the light.
There’d been a time when he’d shaved off those curls in an effort to look older and more mature, for his baby-faced appearance had taken literal centuries to fade. But at over a thousand one hundred years of age now, with the vast majority of that time spent learning from and fighting alongside a number of the deadliest warriors in the world—until he, too, was counted among that elite league—he had the confidence to pull it off.
Montgomery and Sivya, who’d both been invited to this dinner party, the Tower kitchen in charge of catering it, suddenly appeared highly interested in the plant closest to where Sivya sat. Montgomery, standing behind her, took a handkerchief out of his pocket to polish dust off the large green monstera leaf.
Raphael tried not to laugh.
The butler and cook had done an excellent job of pretending not to know anything, but it was difficult to hide the truth from the two when Elena had begun to crave the weirdest combinations of foods on the planet, and had been known to run unceremoniously out of rooms as her stomach lurched.
Thankfully, there hadn’t been much of the latter.
There had, however, been plenty of chocolate-covered pickles and vinegar rice with a side of avocado sprinkled with peanut butter chocolate.
“Super-parasite is a cute little weirdo,” Elena had told Raphael two nights ago, while eating pickles dipped in melted cheese. “If I consciously considered what I’m eating, I’d probably be sick, but I’m in a food coma, and in that food coma, it tastes like heaven.”
Only last night, she’d told him she craved durian ice cream, which she’d apparently tried while on a hunt in Malaysia. Raphael had smelled the fruit once and that had been enough for him, but since Elena wanted durian ice cream, he’d been intent on finding it for her, even if it was the middle of the night.
It had proved far easier than expected.
She’d cleared a full bowl, had a glass of lime-flavored milk to chase it down, then brushed her teeth and gone to sleep again, while Raphael watched, half-amused, half-horrified. “You’re missing out on the deliciousness,” she’d muttered before she snuggled into his chest and fell into dreams that made her smile.
“I love you,” he’d whispered, his heart so defenseless when it came to her that she could cut it out of him while he was conscious and he’d lie there and let her. “You are the best part of eternity, Elena-mine.”
Today, she held a flute of “wine” that was, in truth, nothing but grape juice. “Decoy,” she’d told him with a wink. “We need to build the suspense. Oh, and Greta said she’d rather chop off her own head and sauté it in a nice cream sauce when I tried to invite her to dinner.”
Raphael wasn’t in the least surprised—Greta did not do social except for that narrow period in time when she’d fallen in love with a gregarious guild hunter. Fallen so deep and true that she’d been willing to step far out of her comfort zone to be with him—and Malik Mizra’s response to her actions had endeared him to all those who respected Greta. For he’d altered his own habits, too, in deference to her need for solitude.
Love true and generous, strong enough to meld two very different people.
As for suspense, Raphael wasn’t sure how long it would last. Not with this group. Sameon, for one, was looking around the room with the strategic gaze of a commander who knew something was up, his dark eyes connecting with Jason’s as Raphael’s spymaster fought not to display a disgruntled expression.
Jason liked to know everything. Only, of course, while he kept an eye on Tower staff to ensure no external spies snuck in, he didn’t spy on his own archangel and Raphael’s consort. Which meant that Elena’s pregnancy had slid under his radar.
Beside his black-clad form, Mahiya—dressed today in a delicate green sari with silver embroidery, the colors picking up the peacock hues in her feathers—took his hand where they leaned against the wall and said something that made his scowl sink deeper into his skin.
When Mahiya’s smile grew to sparkle in her eyes, Raphael guessed that she was teasing Jason about being so put out. Because Princess Mahiya Geet understood Jason, quiet and extraordinary, in a way no one else ever had.