Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,1

time, no matter how many times I’d done this. The journey down felt like a voluntary trip into the abyss.

I rolled my shoulders and ignored the smell of mold and rotting birds heralding my destination. On the tips of my toes, I descended the many winding steps to the bottom of the keep. Here, the path wound like a snake. I’d memorized the way to Lord Raphael’s cell, a bird-cage-style crate with massive bars situated right across from his wings that gave off the rotting-bird smell.

Lord Raphael sat in the corner, one leg up, an elbow on his knee. Bones stuck out of his back, and those would, eventually, form new wings in place of the ones the commander had ripped off, then nailed to the wall across from the lord’s cell. Lord Raphael stroked his long black beard before tucking his black cheek-length hair behind his ears. Even broken, he was beautiful.

He didn’t acknowledge me. Given his circumstances, I wouldn’t talk to anyone either. He had acknowledged me once before, so I knew this angel had a heart somewhere in his chest. An iron heart, but a heart nonetheless.

During the battle for the Court of Command and before Lord Raphael lost his wings, I had been lying in the mud, dying of multiple stab wounds, when Lord Raphael landed next to me, maybe to rest, maybe just to check his own wounds, I didn’t know. But he took one look at me, then bent and touched my cheek. I would never forget the enormous purple wings looming over me, the violet eyes that lit up as my body burned. He’d healed me.

I’d have left it at that. I’d have thanked him when I got the chance, but aiding him wasn’t in the plan. Until the dreams came, and with them Lucifer, who offered me a deal: feed the prisoner or become one of the Marked, a person completely consumed by Lucifer’s will. Since I’d rather die than get marked, accepting Lucifer’s offer was a no-brainer. I’d been feeding the prisoner ever since.

Although Raphael was an immortal, starvation depleted his power, which in turn kept him inside the prison.

“Perfectly boiled eggs this week,” I whispered, and reached into the sack. I withdrew two eggs and held them out. I couldn’t bring plates or anything besides food because everything inconsumable left traces of wrongdoing. I crouched and stuck my hand between the bars. “Here, birdy. Nom nom.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. All too quickly, he schooled his expression. If I hadn’t seen him smile at my nonsense before, I’d have thought it a trick of the light. Lord Raphael glanced at the food, then tapped the filthy floor with his claw. I hated when he did that. He should take the food from my hand, not eat from the dirty floor. But I didn’t fuss, mainly because I’d protested in the past and he’d ignored me.

I tsked so he knew I disapproved and put the peeled eggs on the gross cobblestone that people had stomped, vomited, and pissed on over the years. I placed three perfectly sliced pieces of fresh-baked and still-warm bread next to the eggs. I put one nice big sausage between the eggs so the tip of the sausage pointed toward him, making it look like a male organ. I garnished the “plate” with fresh-cut apples before I stood and wiped my hands on my uniform.

“Thank you, Nevaeh,” I said with a smile.

Lord Raphael’s body went taut, and his head tilted. He leapt at the bars, thrust his arms through them, and grabbed the back of my head. He pulled me forward and slapped his palm over my mouth. My eyes widened while he looked up, toward the entrance.

We stood there for what felt like years, my heart beating a mile a minute.

The door to the keep opened.

A whine at the back of my throat escaped.

“Something has been bugging me ever since I heard it.” The commander’s voice, like a song, carried all the way down. I heard him as if he stood next to me. I glanced next to me just to be sure he wasn’t really there. When the commander caught me down here—and he would—he’d consider it treason and strangle me with that crazy flying kilt of his. I heard he even tried strangling Julia with it, so nobody was off-limits.

“Many things are bugging you, Michael,” Lord Raphael replied, his voice hoarse, dark, sexy. Okay, never mind sexy. “Like the stick up your bottom.