Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,42

featuring the flavors of the realm. It’s the Court’s…chow hall.”

“And the only paved road I’ve seen.”

“Nice observation. Paved roads are scarce. We practice grounding and draw strength from earth. Grounding is easier if we walk over dirt or grass than over man-made surfaces.”

My belly growled.

Raphael smiled. “What would you like on your pizza?”

“Not sure. Cayen made pizza once back in Mom’s kitchen. He put mushrooms on it, so that seemed like a thing to eat with cheese and carbs.” I raised my voice. “Plenty of carbs that will slow everyone down.”

The angels chuckled.

“Duly noted,” Raphael said “However, after you have one, I bet you’ll return here tomorrow.”

“I bet that after I march for Gortem Castle, I’ll return.” I knew bringing this up would upset Raphael, but it didn’t hurt to try again. I wanted to help any way I could. I was trained for battle, so going out with the undead seemed like a good place for me. Besides, rescuing trapped civilians sounded like the call of duty.

Raphael’s power flared, making my muscles rigid, but he quickly withdrew from my body and leaned across the table. “I will tie you to my bed this very evening.”

“Way to go, my lord!” an angel said. “Who would have thought Lord Raphael had capture fantasies?”

I raised my hand. “I would.”

They laughed. Surrounded by rough military males, I was in my element. Nothing they said would surprise me. Besides, Raphael wouldn’t discuss what I’d said and seemed in good spirits, despite the danger he faced. Perhaps this was how they prepared for war, by living the night as if it were their last. Of course, it wasn’t. Most of them couldn’t die, but a fate worse than death would be joining Lucifer’s angel regiment.

Raphael reached out and stroked my cheek. “How about that pizza now?”

I smiled. “Hope it’s better than the one Cayen made in Mom’s kitchen. As I recall, nobody but him ate it.” I also recalled Mom’s kind eyes as she cleaned my cuts and bruises, when she fed me chicken soup that day after the battle, when she chastised me for being too boyish, too blunt, too brave, when she hugged me, laughed with me, cried with me, loved me.

“Cayen is a shitty cook,” an angel at the table beside me said, taking my thoughts off Mom. With the tables grouped tightly together, when he turned in his chair, his blue wing brushed my arm and lingered there.

A big man in a red apron and with flour up to his elbows emerged from the back, a broad smile on his face. “My lord,” he said as he dipped his head. “It’s good to see you back in once piece.”

“Indeed. We will have my usual, but larger.”

“And ale?” he asked. “Two glasses?” The man slid me a look, sizing me up.

“No, Tony,” Raphael said. “I will drink while my companion will watch with a dry mouth.”

“Got it, my lord.”

“Excellent.” Raphael fluffed up his wings and tried taming the top feathers with his hand. They poked back up anyway. He sighed.

“You use to carry a brush and groom yourself often. I’ve always wondered why,” I prompted.

“I still carry it. I circulate energy, sometimes taking from bodies or nature, then process it and give it back, or choose not to. Because of the constant energy exchange, most times I’m left with only my reserves, which aren’t enough to keep me warm when I fly. Therefore, my wings grow unruly downy feathers in abundance. They keep my body warm, but they’re difficult to tame. I don’t like to look like a rooster after a fight. And the grooming calms me.”

“Makes sense now.”

Tony returned with ale served in frosted glasses. I sipped as I watched people stroll the streets, kids running up and down, mothers chasing after them. A brief flash of a similar setting but someplace I didn’t recognize appeared in my mind. It was gone as quickly as it came. I frowned.

“Something wrong?” Raphael asked.

I shook my head, grateful that Tony had put a massive round dough covered in grease, meat, and mushrooms on the table.

Using his fingers, Raphael picked up a piece and offered it to me. I leaned in and bit, then chewed, letting the grease coat my mouth. The flavor of pepperoni mixed with fresh-cut mushrooms exploded, making my mouth water, and I swallowed. When he drew back his hand, I caught his wrist and snatched the piece away from him.

Raphael chuckled and got his own piece, and we ate in