Angel Fury (Immortal Legacy #2) - Ella Summers Page 0,4

mouth in a laugh.

Female angels were notoriously infertile. Pregnancy was only possible every few years. When an angel had the Fever, a time where her magic built up as her body became fertile, it was supposed to wreak all kinds of havoc on any and all nearby Legion soldiers, male and female alike.

But even when a female angel was fertile, the chance of conception was very low.

“Come on, Cadence.” Allegra sat down on my bed. “How do you really feel about going on another mission with Colonel Dragonsire?”

“Fine, I guess.”

She smiled—but didn’t tease me further about my crush on Damiel Dragonsire. “What is the mission?”

“Well, I guess it must be connected to the big smoking head that appeared in the middle of the ballroom.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very vague, Cadence.”

“That’s all I know.”

A single sharp, loud knock sounded on my door. I knew General Silverstar’s knock when I heard it. As soon as I opened the door, he strode inside.

My father had a stern face and severe cheekbones. His eyes were as green as a forest after a rainfall, his hair dark and cropped in a short, no-nonsense cut.

He was dressed entirely in black battle leather, just as Damiel had worn at our wedding. On his back, my father wore a large, two-handed sword. I’d always wondered how the enormous weapon didn’t get in the way when my father summoned forth his wings. Somehow, it never did. Probably magic.

My father the archangel gave his hand a crisp flick and turned his cold eyes on Allegra. “You’re dismissed, Captain,” he told her.

Allegra left, and then it was just my father and I. I began arming myself for my mission.

“Be careful, Cadence.”

He wasn’t worried I’d cut my fingers on my knives; I’d been wielding knives since I was old enough for him to put one in my hand. No, he must have been worried about the smoky threat that had interrupted the wedding.

“Colonel Dragonsire cannot be trusted,” he continued.

So this wasn’t about the demons’ threat. It was about Damiel.

“Don’t trust him. Don’t let him get close.”

“I married Damiel on the Legion’s orders,” I replied. “I am already close to him. We are already linked.”

“Yes, you are married to Dragonsire. That means nothing,” my father replied. “Do not let him into your heart. Do not confide in him. The Master Interrogator has hunted down, interrogated, and killed many Legion soldiers. He sows distrust. He sees bad everywhere. It’s in his nature.”

“It’s his job. I don’t believe it’s his true nature,” I defended Damiel.

But my father was adamant. “Not everyone is good, Cadence. If only I could have saved you from the fate of marrying Dragonsire. But the First Angel refused to see reason in this matter.”

“You talked to Nyx. You tried to convince her to call off this marriage,” I realized.

“Of course. But the First Angel was adamant that you and Dragonsire marry.”

I wasn’t surprised. Nyx wouldn’t call of the marriage when she had two magically-compatible angels. That was a fluke that might never repeat. The First Angel wouldn’t waste this opportunity. On the contrary, she was probably already trying to figure out how to repeat the magical miracle.

“Beware of Dragonsire,” he said.

Then my father left my room, the echoes of his warning words lingering in the air like a bell over a sleepy, snowy village before dawn.

I grabbed my sword, then backtracked through the halls to Damiel’s chamber. I lifted my hand, but before I could knock, the door opened. Damiel was clear across the room, beside an open weapons chest, so he must have used his magic to open it.

I stepped into the doorway. His room was a chamber worthy of an angel, with all the trimmings—gold, red, and green.

“Your room is more extravagant than mine,” I commented.

“Well, I do outrank you.”

“For now.”

Magic flickered in his eyes. His lips spread into a smile. “I accept.”

“Accept what?”

“Your challenge. Let’s see if you can get yourself promoted before I do.”

“What does the winner get?”

He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his throat. “A favor of his or her choosing from the losing party.”

I nodded. “Very well. I accept.”

The Master Interrogator owing me a favor—that was a valuable prize. And I had every intention of winning it.

Damiel strapped another knife on his arm. Suddenly, I felt terribly underdressed. His personal weapons armament was far more extensive than my own.

I took a second look at the weapons on his body. Some of them didn’t look particularly suitable for battle.

They are Interrogator tools. They aren’t