That’s good, right? Lines formed between Elena’s eyebrows as they passed the entrance to that hallway and the three disappeared from view. Since it’s dangerous if you’re too close together?

It makes no difference when we are all within the same region. The Cadre could remain in close proximity for a short number of weeks before things began to go catastrophically wrong.

The world wasn’t designed to allow the close coexistence of that much power. It began to build and build inside the archangels until the only way to get it out was to attack one another—regardless of whether the sane part of their nature might argue against such an action.

Even Raphael’s parents, no matter their piercing love for one another, had been unable to always be together. Nadiel, through no choice of his own, had been missing from Raphael’s childhood for long periods. At least until Raphael got old enough to travel occasionally to his father’s territory during the times when his parents had to be apart. Caliane’s joy at their return had always been a dazzling song that made Raphael’s heart ache with happiness that his parents were together again.

But you are right, he added when Elena turned a worried face to him, the separation is likely a simple courtesy. The Luminata may be taking the safest option, given that they do not know which of the Cadre are enemies with one another and which are allies. Raphael made a note of their route nonetheless, along with any other corridors and doors they passed along the way.

He knew his hunter and Aodhan were doing the same.

“Archangel. Consort. I am Gervais.” Their escort’s voice was rougher than Gian’s, his face long and saturnine under skin of a dark mahogany. “Your suite.” Using one hand, he opened a door of smooth honey-colored wood polished to such a high shine that it appeared like stone.

It was identical to every other door they’d passed.

“Dinner will be announced by use of the central bell,” the tall, thin male said, his presence along the same continuum as Gian’s—not as oddly peaceful, but with an internal confidence that said the outer world did not matter to him as much as his personal journey. There was certainly no indication that he was intimidated by being in the presence of an archangel.

“We have placed refreshments within your suite. Please rest and explore as you will. The Luminata do not have secrets.” Moving back with an unexpectedly shallow bow, he indicated that the room across the hall was Aodhan’s, then disappeared down the corridor in a whisper of faded golden brown robes that blended into the stone of Lumia, his wings hidden beneath the heavy garment.

Elena frowned after the Luminata brother but didn’t say anything until they were behind the closed door to their suite. “There’s something off about this place,” she muttered. “Gian’s spookiness aside, the sense of peace I expected is missing.” She rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “You know, like when you walk into a place of worship? It might not be a religion to which you ascribe, but there’s always this hushed reverence about the place.”

“I am not mortal, Elena. Mortal religions are not mine.”

“Right. Well, think of your mystic, how being near him made you feel.”

It had been a long time ago, but the memory was at the surface of his mind after their earlier conversation. “I see your meaning,” he said, walking across the thickly carpeted front room and past a seating area of white painted furniture with velvet gray cushions; his goal was the back wall set with a small stained glass window.

When he opened it, it was to find it looked out not onto the outside slopes but an internal hallway identical to those through which they’d walked. “It’s not simply a lack of psychic peace. From within, Lumia feels more like the Refuge stronghold of another archangel.”

The shallow bow from an escort who had not earned that right, the fact Gian had taken the names of the Cadre without adding “Archangel” to the front, the Luminata who’d watched them from the shadows, their faces hidden under the hoods of their robes, none of it was as it should be.

Elena came to stand beside him as he pulled the window shut. “Maybe it’s just because they’re immortals who’ve been by themselves for way too long.” Nodding at the window, she said, “They’ve buried us.”

“Yes.” Raphael considered their route to the suite. “Did you notice anything about the architecture?”

“Yes, it’s not exactly convenient for a people with wings. Ceilings are relatively low for angelic dwellings, and once past the courtyard, there aren’t any openings from which to take off.” She glanced around, saw a notepad of thick cream paper on a small white writing desk. Beside it was a pen.

Taking both, she began to draw. “These are all the courtyards we saw from above.”

“You’ve memorized them?” He could blast through stone if need be, but his consort wasn’t powerful enough to smash her way out.

“Yes, but I’ll need to do some exploring, get an idea of distances involved.” Putting down the map, Elena stared at the door through which they’d entered. “The corridors are so circular and winding that it’s hard to figure out how much time it’ll take to go anywhere.”

Raphael closed his hand around the side of her neck. “Stay with Aodhan as much as you can. This place . . . it has a darkness to it that may simply be a result of secrecy and long isolation, but we will take no chances.”

Elena rose on her toes to brush her lips over his, her hands on his shoulders. “I won’t drop my guard. I mean seriously, even if the Luminata are just odd because they spend so much time alone out here, there’s still Michaela, Charisemnon, and the others to worry about.” She twisted her lips . . . but her jaundiced expression turned suddenly into a smile. “Do you think Astaad will bring Mele?”