The Forsaken(30)

Of all the things she had to zone in on, she choose the one that made him the most uncomfortable. He nodded, feeling heat surface along his cheeks. Seraphim shouldn’t blush. Then again, they probably shouldn’t sing, either.

“Why?”

Her voice, soft and full of wonderment, made him smile. “Your sisters sang to you most of the night but things didn’t look good. Shea suggested my voice might help. I’m glad you were in and out of consciousness, because trust me, my voice might have helped…but it certainly didn’t sound like it at the time.”

A genuine smile filled Isabella’s face, transforming her instantly. “I…I…thank thee, Nathanael. I would have liked to hear thee sing to me, or at least remember it. No one has done such for me before. I am honored.”

She’d reverted to scripture, and that warmed his heart, filling him with hope.

“Will you sing to me again, Nathanael?” she asked, a teasing look in her eyes.

“I think not, least you have a relapse.”

She chuckled. “I truly do wish I could recall your voice. We’re always looking for new talent for our band.”

This time Nat chuckled. A teasing side of Isabella—who’d have thought? Certainly not myself a few days ago. That reminder felt cold when he knew they were meant for each other and she didn’t really want anything to do with him. “I don’t think so. I have a feeling that listening to my morning song might make you ill, and after all you went through last night, getting sick from the sound of my voice is not something my bruised ego can take.”

“Funny man.”

“Do you think of me as a man?” All teasing aside, he hoped she did.

“Nathanael…I don’t really know you.”

Nat nodded. “Will you at least try to get to know me?”

“I’m not sure that will do any good,” she said.

“Why not? What have you got to lose?” stated Nathanael, pulling the chair she kept in the corner of her room closer to her bed. Sitting, he continued, “How about this. You can ask me questions, I will answer as best as I can and vice versa. That will help to put us on even footing.”

She coughed and for a second Nathanael wondered if this conversation should wait until later. She took a sip of the water he handed her. “Sure, why not. What do Seraphim do all day?”

“Lots,” he said, giving her a wink.

She didn’t smile. “Oh, no you don’t. I asked first, you get to spill the beans.”

“Spill the beans? I take it that’s a human expression.”

Isabella raised an eyebrow at him. He got the distinct impression she was used to giving orders. “You, Sere, are stalling. I’m not falling for it. Tell me and I’ll tell you something secret about us Cherubs.”

It was the first time she had called him Sere without contempt.

Now that got his attention. “Okay, what exactly is it that you want to know?”

“Everything. What do you do all day? How often you get to practice, what type of weapons you get to use, what you’re taught.”

Nat shifted on the wooden chair and crossed his ankles as he leaned back. “That’s going to take all day.” He groaned.

Cuddling down further into her pillow, Isabella said, “Well, if you’d like to get up and leave, be my guest.”

“Okay, I’m going to tell you—but trust me, it’s not interesting. In the morning, as I’m sure you know, we all go to morning prayers. Then we break our fast with a blessing of heavenly food, and it’s either scripture study or weapons training. My preference is always weapons.” He grinned.

“I bet it is,” she teased.

“In the afternoon, it’s midfeast, then Absolutions, more studies, and battle strategy—which I also like—and then it’s cleansing before evening prayers and food of thanks. Pretty much that every day. See, you’re grimacing. I told you it wasn’t interesting and you were the one who begged to hear it. So now it’s your turn.”

“Who brings you the food?” she asked, catching him off guard.

Nat blinked. He knew what she fished for. “I have always assumed the Cherubs brought the food.”

“Did you ever see them?”

He shook his head.

She sat up straighter in her bed and even fluffed the pillow up to place it higher on the bed rail. “Why’s that, do you think?”

“Why is what?” asked Nat, his focus drifting to her chest instead of the question.

“Why is it that the women are never seen?”

“Why does it matter?” he asked. The second he said it, he knew it mattered.

Isabella turned on him, her eyes going cold.

“It matters, Nathanael. It matters. Women are to be seen. We are of worth. In case you haven’t noticed, on Earth, women and men cook for each other. I’ve learned it’s a sign of deep respect in this culture. Yet, in the heavenly realm, we Cherub, who lovingly slave to cook the Seraphim meals do not get so much as a thank-you.”

Nathanael bowed his head for a moment before looking at her. “You are correct. It does matter. I never gave it thought, but since I’ve been here in this realm I’ve become painfully aware of many things that are not so perfect in ours.”

“Perfect? Trust me, heaven is far from that,” she scoffed.