Angel Fever (Immortal Legacy #3) - Ella Summers Page 0,8
this side of the Master Interrogator,” she said to me. “And yet General Dragonsire does not much care for General Silverstar.”
“It’s a mutually beneficial dislike.” Damiel’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re a decent debating partner.”
“Cadence is a good teacher.”
I’d been Leila’s mentor since she’d come to Storm Castle twenty years ago, shortly after I’d taken command of the territory.
“Mark my words,” I said. “Leila will be the Legion’s next angel, and she’ll make an excellent one at that. After all, I taught her most of what she knows.”
“And I taught you most of what you know,” said Damiel.
“What of all my years preparing to become an angel under my father’s instruction? Didn’t that count for anything?”
“Sure, it counted. It counted a little. That’s why I said I taught you ‘most’ of what you know. Not all.” He flashed me a grin. “Just mostly all.”
“My father wouldn’t care to hear you discount the importance of his training.”
“Naturally.”
“You can’t antagonize my father if he’s not even here, Damiel.”
“I’m not antagonizing him this time. I’m teasing you. For fun.”
“Haha,” I said, my voice deadpan.
“I don’t think she enjoys the taste of her own medicine,” Damiel commented to Leila.
Her shrug was completely relaxed. “Well, an angel’s ego is a lot to take.”
Damiel laughed. “I like her,” he told me. “You’re right. She will make an excellent angel. We need more angels without such insufferable, stick-in-the-mud personalities.”
“Angels like you?”
“No, Princess. I’m the biggest stick-in-the-mud of them all. That’s why I’m the Master Interrogator.”
“I have to admit that I’m envious,” Leila said.
“Yes, we angels get that reaction a lot.”
If any other angel had said the words, they’d have been one-hundred percent serious. With Damiel, they were only about fifty percent serious. The other fifty percent was making fun of angels, himself included.
“I’m envious of the love you share,” Leila clarified.
“You could have it too,” I said. “After all, you have your pick of the Legion’s male soldiers.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard about this.”
“You don’t know about everything, Damiel,” I told him.
“Apparently not.” He frowned. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to work out where the holes were in his intelligence network.
“Leila has a long line of admirers,” I said. “Or perhaps horde of admirers would be more accurate. When her suitors line up in front of Storm Castle, the line reaches all the way to the Fire Mountains.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Leila said. “There aren’t nearly that many.”
“Shortly after Leila took her post at Storm Castle, Legion soldiers kept finding themselves on my front door. Wounded soldiers. Soldiers who got caught in the storms. Soldiers whose trucks had broken down. Every reason imaginable. Without the services of the Legion’s esteemed Master Interrogator, it took me some time to unravel the reason behind this phenomenon: nearly every male soldier within a few thousand miles of Storm Castle is completely infatuated with Leila. They’d sabotaged their trucks, used elemental spells to summon storms, and inflicted wounds on themselves—all for a chance to see her.”
“Infatuation is a powerful weapon.” Damiel’s face was thoughtful. I knew that look. His mind had already switched gears to figuring out a use for this new information. “Perhaps I’ll steal her from you, Cadence. I could send her to interrogate some of my more stubborn prisoners.”
“You are not stealing her. No way.”
“The fate of the Legion might just hang in the balance.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Do you really think I’m going to fall for that old excuse?”
“Yes?” he replied, a slow smile spreading his lips.
“She’s mine,” I told him. “I need her to keep one of the Earth’s elements in check. The fate of the Earth definitely hangs in the balance.”
“Relax, Princess.”
“I get edgy when other angels try to steal my people. Or my stuff.”
“I am aware,” he said. “And I can help you with that. Do you want me to storm into Osiris Wardbreaker’s office and demand that he return the high-heeled boots he stole from you? They anyway don’t look as good on him as they do on you.”
“I can do my own storming and snatching, thank you very much.”
Damiel’s smile widened. “You’re welcome.”
Damn it. After two decades as an angel—and even more decades dealing with angels—I should have remembered how stupid it was to thank an angel. They inevitably expected something in return.
My guard was always down with Damiel. It felt so natural to talk to him like we were normal people. It was a pleasant change of pace from the rest of our drama-filled, angelic lives.