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Chapters (81)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Of course they need you. But they’ll have to manage without you for an evening. Part of the job of being Lead Physician is attending major ceremonies. And believe me, this one will go down in history. You won’t want to miss it.” Uriel ushers her out the door. “The monkey named Madeline will see to your appearance.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Laylah almost bolts out.

51

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FOR THE next couple of hours, Uriel gets dressed for the party. It’s apparently another period costume party, only this time, it seems like the point is to actually be semi-disguised.

“Make the masks and wing coverings available everywhere,” he tells his assistant angel as Madeline and two other people cover his gray-tinged wings with a gauzy white material. Even though it would be Madeline and her team who would put the costumes out for the angels, Uriel only addresses his angelic assistant. “I want all the angels to feel anonymous. And the Daughters of Men—make sure they’re wearing wings.”

“Wings?” asks the assistant. His wings are sky blue and I can understand why the angels would need to cover their wings if they really want to be disguised. “But, Your Grace, if I may, with all the wine and costumes, the Daughters of Men may be mistaken for angels by some of the drunk soldiers.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame?” Uriel’s tone implies that it wouldn’t be a shame at all.

“But if some of the soldiers were to make a mistake…,” he breaks off delicately.

“Then they’d better pray that I become the Messenger and not Michael. Unlike Michael who is off on one of his endless military campaigns across the world, I am attending the party. I will be right here to understand how such a terrible mistake could be made. And as for Raphael, even if they don’t accept that he has fallen, they’ll certainly remember how preachy he got about fraternizing with the Daughters of Men after his Watchers fell doing exactly that.”

Madeline and her assistants place a layer of black feathers over Uriel’s wings so that the white material peeks out between the feather gaps.

“What are you doing?” asks Uriel irritated.

Madeline stares wide-eyed at Uriel’s assistant, looking terrified that Uriel just addressed her. Then she bows and tries to shrink into herself. “I, um, thought you wanted to be in costume. Your Grace.” I’m beginning to suspect that only the Messenger gets to be called “Your Grace,” and that his toadies call him that to flatter him.

“I’ll wear a mask and wing coverings but I need to be recognized, even from afar. It’s the masses who need to be anonymous. Do I look like the masses to you?”