“Father!” Bast gasped. “I would never!”
“Re,” I whispered. “Let's take a breath.”
Re turned on his heels and glared me into silence. I sighed and looked away. This didn't feel right to me; the women looked wounded by their father's accusations; a true hurt that's not easily faked. But this was Re's call.
“Search the house, if you want,” Sekhmet said scornfully. “The goggles aren't here.”
“You've probably passed them on to your accomplices already,” Re said.
“You're wrong about this, Father.” Bast shook her head sadly. “And when the truth is revealed, I expect you to make amends to both of us.”
“If I'm wrong about this, Sekhmet can have her magic back,” Re said flippantly.
“Hold on,” Kirill growled. “That vas in punishment for vhat she did to our daughter.”
“She's guilty, Kirill,” Re huffed. “It doesn't matter.”
“It does matter,” Kirill insisted, “because I'm not so sure of her guilt. Only you are, Re.”
Re looked around at the rest of us, and his face shifted into pained shock.
“Re,” I said gently as I stepped forward, “we're not saying that we're against you; only that we're not one-hundred percent sure that this was Sekhmet's doing.”
“I am sure.” Re lifted his chin. “And you should trust in me.”
“Tone it down, Sun God,” I said softly but firmly. “I trust you, but I'm not one of your worshipers; I don't trust in you blindly. I can think on my own, thank you.”
“La-la.” Re sighed. “These are my daughters; I know them better than anyone.”
“Then you should know that we'd never betray you!” Bast shouted.
“Like Sekhmet never betrayed me?” Re shouted back.
The women went silent.
“Yes; you've broken my trust, and now, I don't know what to believe,” Re said sadly. “You're her twin, Bast; I know you would do anything for Sekhmet.”
“Not this, Father,” Bast protested.
“No; you'd only sneak your sister into Vervain's home to see Lesya after Sekhmet had tried to abduct the child,” Re said furiously. “But you wouldn't steal a pair of goggles. Oh no; that is beyond your morals.”
“Do what you like,” Bast said tiredly. “But know that you've lost my respect today and hurt my heart.”
Re paused; his golden eyes flickering for a moment.
“What I'd like is for the both of you to sit your asses down and get comfortable,” Re finally said. “We're all staying here and watching over Dvārakā together.”
The women looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and took their seats.
“Go home and handle what you need to handle,” Re said to me. “I'll keep an eye on my daughters and Dvārakā. If I feel any energy shifts, I'll text you.”
I hugged Re tightly, and after a minute, he relaxed and melted into the embrace.
“I do trust you,” I whispered. “And I love you very much, Re.”
“I know, La-la,” he whispered back. “I'm angry at my children, not you. You, I love more than sunlight.”
I grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “Be careful.”
“I am the Sun God, Re,” he said with a smirk. “I have no need to be careful.”
“Let's get out of here before I punch the Sun God, Re in his shiny nose,” Trevor huffed.
Chapter Fifty-One
By the time we got home, we were exhausted. Despite my fast healing, walking through Jigoku and then watching my boyfriend berate his daughters—possibly falsely—took a lot out of me. I went straight to bed.
The next morning dawned brightly through the archway of my balcony, and I woke feeling refreshed but unsettled. I slipped out of bed and into my robe to head out onto the balcony and take a deep breath of the cool morning air. My land was waking up; stretching in the sunlight and basking in the warmth like the cat whose magic sustained it. I could feel the tingles of energy permeating every leaf and stone. We were intimately connected, but not as intimately as I was with my husbands.
I could feel Azrael's unrest.
I frowned at the lightening sky and then toward the tower where Azrael's bedroom was. I could just make out his window from my angle, and I noted the curl of his fingers over the ledge. Before I could call out to him, Az launched himself from the window and shot into the dawn.
Midnight wings covered the rising sun, and I lifted my face to admire my husband's flight. He was bare-chested—dressed only in a pair of loose, cotton pants—and the amber light bathed his skin while it cast a halo around him that made him appear even more angelic. Azrael was breathtaking; muscles rippling and wings thudding through the air like the pound of tribal drums. But I could feel his pain, and the tears that sprang to my eyes weren't from witnessing his beauty.
“Azrael,” I whispered. “How do I help you?”
“Let go,” Odin said as he joined me on the balcony.
I jerked and turned to him. “What?”
“You want to help Azrael? Let him go,” Odin repeated. “He feels trapped; like a bird in a cage. You need to support his choices; whether they be to stay hidden here or go out and face his enemies.”
“I...” I turned back to watch Azrael.
The Angel of Death shot upward like a rocket until he could go no higher, and then he flung himself backwards to free-fall. The wind whipped his wings up around him; curling over Azrael like a shroud. I gasped and gripped the stone railing.
“Azrael!” I shouted as I started to shift.
“Hold on.” Odin grabbed my arm.
Azrael tumbled for a few seconds and then spread his wings to catch the air. He hovered—looking down at us with a frown—and then dove. My heart was still returning to its normal rhythm—and the gold
