Malachi sat next to Ava and threw an arm around her shoulders. “We were hoping to speak with you privately, as a matter of fact.”

Orsala’s keen eyes grew even sharper. “Does this have something to do with your grandmother?”

Ava nodded.

“I knew it.” Orsala said, “Rhys, that trip you were going to make to the archives. Do it now.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Muttering about bossy women, the other scribe left the room and shut the door.

“Before we start with anything else,” Orsala said, “Ava and Rhys are both correct, Malachi. You need to complete the ritual. Now is as safe a time as any. There is little Grigori activity in the city, and Ava has become known to the Irin hierarchy. Rumors about her history are starting to circulate. She is quite obviously mated, but for the two of you to reach your full potential together, you need to be marked. It might also hasten the return of your power, which we need.”

He looked down at his chest. “She sings to me. It’s helping.”

“It’s not enough.” The old singer leaned forward. “Stop being so stubborn! Let her protect you too. That is what the mating bond was intended it to be.”

“I lost everything when I returned to earth. Ava was all I had. She says I help her remain sane against the voices? Her voice is the only reason I didn’t lose my mind when I lost my memories.” He felt Ava’s hand curl into his, and he squeezed it tight. “Do you truly not understand why I don’t want to take a chance?”

“You are holding her back if you don’t. And holding yourself back as well.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth again. “Just think about it. Don’t hold your mate back because you allow your fear to rule you. Now is not the time for defense, but offense.”

Orsala’s words were a mirror of his own. Only she was challenging Malachi personally, not the Irin race as a whole.

And Malachi had no defense.

Damn.

“YOU already know that my grandmother is Jaron’s child.” Ava started the story after Orsala had called for coffee. “But… she is also Volund’s mate.”

Orsala sat back and her mouth fell open. “Heaven above.”

Malachi kept his arm around Ava’s shoulders.

“It was not by choice,” she said. “Volund took her from Jaron’s protection. He raped her.”

“And he marked her?” Orsala said.

Ava nodded. “He wanted to know if it was possible.”

“It is.” Orsala blinked. “But there would have been no need for it to be violent. Volund is an archangel. He could have seduced—”

“He didn’t,” Malachi said. “I didn’t see the vision she sent Ava until afterward when she shared it with me, but it was not a seduction. Volund wanted to terrorize her, and he did.”

“I suppose…” Orsala’s face was bleak. “I’ll admit I suspected something of that nature, though I never imagined rape.”

“What do you mean?” Ava asked.

“Your blood.” She shook her head. “It never made sense for you to have so much magic with so little of your blood angelic. The Grigori sire children with human women, and they are not magical. Geniuses, yes. Great artists who are often unstable. Not like you. But you’re not a normal Grigori—or Grigora in this case—child. You don’t have one angel in your line, but two. Your great-grandfather and your grandfather. And both are archangels. It changes things.”

“How?” Malachi asked.

Orsala looked at Malachi. “Do you remember when I had Rhys get the copy of Gabriel’s Old Tales for me?”

“Back in Istanbul. Yes.”

“The fairy tales?” Ava asked.

“They’re not fairy tales in the human sense,” Orsala said. “These are more like… legends. Folk tales, I suppose.”

The story popped into his mind immediately, coming from the childhood memories he’d already recovered. “Of course,” Malachi said. “‘Adelina’s Son.’”

“Who’s Adelina?” Ava’s eyes darted between them.

“‘Adelina’s Son’ is a cautionary tale,” Orsala said. “In Gabriel’s Old Tales, Adelina is a beautiful and gifted singer—the most treasured daughter of her village and a notable healer of Rafael’s line. She appears in many of the tales and is always a very powerful character. But Adelina is also so beautiful that one of the Fallen—some translations imply Bozidar, others imply a lesser angel—fell in love with her and mated with her.”

Ava asked, “And that can’t happen?”

Malachi shook his head. “Not love. You heard Jaron. The angels are not truly capable of love. Emotion comes from our human blood, not the angelic.”

“But it is a story, of course,” Orsala said. “Not reality. The story says that Adelina was seduced by this angel and fell in love with him. They lay together and she became pregnant. At first, she was very happy. She sang that her child would be blessed above all others and would be a gift to the world. A child of heaven who would finally reconcile the Irin and the Fallen so we could live in peace.”

“This is fiction, right?”

“Is it?” Malachi asked. “In the story, Adelina gives birth to a monster who consumes her as soon as it’s born; his father has to kill it before it goes on to terrorize the world.”