“Wait for the Irina council to reform,” Sari said. “Then reveal the truth about the kareshta. And about Kostas and his brothers.”
More silence as they took in Sari’s words.
“Many will resist seeing them as allies,” Max said. “Some will find it impossible.”
Damien said, “Then we deal with that when it occurs. If the armies of three angels are descending on Vienna, then Mikhael’s blood will rise. The Irin here are sleeping, not dead. They will take their allies as they come.”
“And more Irina will come if they see the opportunity for vengeance,” Renata added. “Plus, the opportunity to save sisters more lost than we ever were.”
“Call Kyra,” Sirius said to Kostas.
Kostas shook his head. “Brother—”
“Call her. You know it’s the right thing to do. It should be her choice. And we cannot defend them ourselves. It is time to ask for help.”
“IS it just me,” Ava asked, “or does it seem quieter outside than inside?”
“It’s not just you.” Malachi sat next to her in the corner of the library at Damien and Sari’s house.
Three days after Kostas’s appearance in Vienna, the kareshta had been hidden in Prague. Kostas and Max had moved swiftly to hide the women and children left from the attack in Bulgaria, and Sirius handed over their protection to Orsala, Mala, and the remaining singers of Sarihöfn. Kyra refused to stay in the safe house; she had returned to Vienna with her brother.
Now three singers stood in Damien’s study, talking with Sari and arguing while Rhys, Leo, Ava, and Malachi looked on.
The seven elder singers had returned to Vienna, but as Sari warned them all, this was no puppet council.
Abigail and Carmina, the two most traditional of the council, were arguing with Sari over her decision to step aside for the European seat, leaving Constance the chosen favorite.
“Why have you withdrawn?” Abigail asked. She was a strong-boned woman from Newfoundland with a powerful voice. “You’re one of the most respected singers in Europe. Many of my own people look to you as an authority.”
“But I’m not a politician,” Sari said. “I have other roles now.”
Like the quiet plan Kostas and Damien were already working on to search for more of the lost kareshta. Sari, Damien, and Max were sending out inquiries to their allies across Europe, spreading the news and asking scribe houses to be on the lookout for women with Grigori traits, especially in areas where Fallen had been killed and might have left surviving children.
Minor angels killed each other with alarming regularity. And if their daughters were lost in the human population, they could be helped without danger of their sire’s influence.
“She’s not even European,” Carmina protested. “She’s American.”
Carmina looked delicate, but Malachi had heard the singer carried Mikhael’s blood. Her looks were probably deceiving.
“She’s lived here longer than many natives,” Sari said. “And her mate has family ties in France. She’s a valid choice.”
Abigail snorted. “She’s a ninny. She’d lock every one of us in a retreat and throw away the key.”
Daina, a dark-haired former elder from the Caribbean was one of the more moderate singers on the council and the only calm voice in the room. “She represents many of our sisters who carry this same view. Are they not allowed a voice?”
The singer’s face was a stunning blend of African, American, and European blood. Malachi could tell she was very old. Her mate, a watcher of immense reputation, had left public life with her after the Rending. Rumor in Vienna was that Daina and Zamir protected one of the largest havens in the Western Hemisphere, somewhere in the southern Caribbean Sea. She’d been coaxed back to her former position in Vienna when South America had been given the seventh seat on the council.
“If you want to object to her seating,” Daina continued, “object to the fact that her mate is one of the elder scribes. There is a reason it is avoided. A mated pair can hold too much power if they speak as one.”
“Unfortunately”—Rhys decided to risk his input—“they both have political presences that are independent from the other. According to what Damien and I have been able to learn, they’re not seen as a single entity here. They’ve had years to develop their own allies, and they don’t agree on everything.”
“They agree on compulsion,” Carmina said.
Sari said, “Yes, but compulsion is not the only issue of our race. And on many of the others, Constance carries her own view and is admired for it. Further, she’s seen as the leading Irina mind in Vienna. She’s a medical doctor as well as a healer. Many of the women who’ve lived here since the Rending—”
“The ones who’ve lived in hiding?” Abigail asked. “The ones who allowed their mates to shut them up like prisoners in their own homes? Are we expected to take them seriously?”
“This is useless debate,” Daina said. “She will be chosen. She will serve. You can debate with her in the Library.”
Leo said, “Some of the elder scribes object to the council being reformed. They say it is not legitimate.”
Daina waved him off. “I’ve heard the objections, but they are ridiculous. The Irin elders have never had a voice in choosing the Irina council, just as we have never had a voice in choosing their ranks. We will take our place in the Library in two days’ time.”
“They do object to us,” Abigail said, her voice holding barely concealed pain. “Some object to our very presence in the city. My mother would be appalled.”
“Let them object,” Carmina said. “It is as Daina said. They have no standing.”
“What do you think they will do?” Sari said with a wry laugh. “Bar us from the Library? They could try.”
Daina said, “And they would fail.”
“And how do you feel about compulsion, Daina?” Carmina lifted her chin. “You have not spoken about it since we’ve been here.”
“I do not agree with compulsion,” Daina said. “Nor do I agree with those who would throw our singers into war. That has never been our role. You risk throwing artists and teachers and healers into a war that has torn most of their families apart. Are you prepared to truly hear what those sisters have to say? It might not match your plans.”
Sari said, “Some of those healers and artists have chosen different paths because of what happened during the Rending. Are you willing to stifle their desire to join this war?”
“Have they trained?” Daina asked. “Have they spent years in the scribe houses preparing for this as our mates have?”
Malachi leaned forward. “And what if there is a mission for which healers and teachers are the most qualified, Daina? What then?”
Diana cocked her head toward him. “I know of no such mandate. But I will be interested to hear you speak, Malachi of Sakarya.”
Malachi leaned back after giving her a respectful nod. Daina was not a singer who liked others to make assumptions about her, and she would keep her own council. She reminded Malachi a great deal of his mother. He had a feeling that revealing the secret of the kareshta was the key to investing the more moderate Irina in their battle against the Fallen. After all, would women lost in the human world need warriors or healers?
Glancing over his shoulder at his mate who watched everything with perceptive eyes, he was reminded of who she had been.
Hunted. Tormented. Lonely.
Malachi guessed that most of the kareshta were much like Ava had been.
Had she needed a warrior or a healer?
She’d needed both.