Mags scrunched up her nose. “I’d rather claw my scars open than go crawling tothat slimefor help.”
“Come on, he’s not so bad.”
“Christos, I say this with love, but you and your father are the only ones blindly loving enough to feel that way.”
She couldn’t stand Gabriel, and she wasn’t alone in that feeling. He was the epitome of a whiny, snooty suck-up. His unparalleled bootlicking had made him the butt of many jokes, while his barbed responses had made him many disgruntled, reluctant acquaintances and few friends.
“Blind love is better than blind hate,” Christos took up their familiar argument.
“And both are blind,” she supplied her line easily, then switched tactics. “Besides, Gabriel isn’t the only favored advisor your father has.”
“Michael.”
“He’s always beenmyfavorite. Much more honorable—and tolerable—than Gabriel.”
“You’re very biased,” Christos pointed out mildly, but with no real conviction. He also considered Michael an ideal standardto compare other Seraphim to. The man was intense as he was reserved, but he had a wise mind, kind eyes, and open heart. It would be difficult to find a better friend or ally.
Mags grinned. “Indeed I am. I saw Michael entering the chapel on my way here, so I’ll have to occupy myself for some time. Kiss me awhile before I go to save the world?”
He grinned like a little boy receiving a brand-new toy. “Didn’t I already tell you your wish is my command?”
As he tilted her chin to claim her lips, another knock sounded at his door. Christos frowned as Mags sat up, looking curiously toward the sound.
“Jesu?” A woman’s voice called, soft and lilting even as she raised it to be heard over the music. “Jesu, I’d like a word, if you have a moment?”
Christos sat up now too, silencing his stereo with a lazy wave. “Come inside, mother.”
Mags quickly arranged her skirt, smoothing wrinkles and tucking the fabric neatly around her legs, which she crossed at the ankle. She kept her hands folded demurely in her lap, gently cradling her gift.
The door opened to reveal a tall, stately woman who bore a striking resemblance to her son. Thick, dark hair cascaded down her back, bound in golden cord to keep it neatly tucked away from her beautiful face. Her features were striking, with proud cheekbones and full lips arranged in perfect proportion beneath the same wide, brilliant amber eyes she had passed on to her son. A finely crafted silk dress wrapped her slender figure in a vision of champagne and cream that was more a work of art than garment.
Mags fought back the familiar burn of inadequacy that always threatened to choke her when she saw the Queen. How could she ever hope to compare to such regal elegance, suchperfection? She would never be Christos’s equal the way Queen Mary was so finely matched to her husband, Jehovah.
“Forgive me.” The Queen hesitated in the doorway as her eyes landed on Mags, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t mean to interrupt; I was unaware you had company.”
Mags gripped her carved lily tight enough that the edges of the wood dug into her palms. She knew how it must look to find them here, on the bed in his room, with sensual music playing in the background. Though she knew that they were well within their rights to behave however they chose, it didn’t make her feel any less violated as she considered all the torrid scenes the Queen could be imagining.
“You needed to speak with me?” Christos kept a tight rein on his tone, aiming for light and indifferent, but Mags could discern the subtle undercurrent of embarrassment there. Despite all his posturing with her, Christos was quite shy.
“It is a matter of no consequence,” the Queen deferred. “I can return later, if I’m interrupting your time together.”
“I was just leaving,” Mags interjected, rising quickly from her tense perch on the edge of the mattress. “I have plans to meet with Michael and only stopped here on my way.”
Queen Mary eyed her curiously, a small smile gracing her full lips. “I would be pleased to escort you, Lady Mary. We see each other so rarely these days, it would be a wonderful chance to catch up.”
“But I thought -” Christos began, and his mother shushed him.
“We will speak later, Jesu. I’m much more interested in speaking with your lovely girlfriend.”
Chapter Four
They traveled in silence down the cavernous halls of the palace for a time, the echo of their footsteps mimicking the hard pulse in Mags’s wrists. She wished the queen would say something—she never knew what to say to the other woman. Even before they attained immortality, Mary had intimidated her. Didn’t every girl seek the approval of her partner’s mother? Joseph had been jovial, relaxed, and charming, but Mary had always had an air of distance, of having been touched by somethingotherand left among the mundane.
“Tell me," the older woman finally interrupted Mags’s racing thoughts. “How is my son?”
They both understood that she wasn’t asking about Christos. “He’s well. Misses you, of course.”
“Of course.” She smiled, but the shadow of grief had fallen over her beautiful face.
