"She wants to be your friend?" 

"That's what she said."

Auriel gave a derisive laugh. He shook his head, looking back down at his scrolls. "Don't tell Raguel that. He might stab you." 

I was leaning against Auriel's desk, waiting for Mikha'el. Not sure if Auriel meant what he said literally, I decided to play it safe and not mention anything Raguel, should I ever see him again. 

I hoped not. 

"Ulcinin," Mikha'el said from behind me. 

I turned around, and Auriel picked up his head. Mikha'el was billowing towards us. The scowl on his face and the taughtness of his gate made it apparent he was in a bad mood. 

"Uh-oh," Auriel said quietly, dropping his head back to his scrolls. 

I craned my neck once more to look up at Auriel. "Uh-oh?" 

"He's in a foul mood." 

"Well I can see that—" 

Mikha'el snapped his fingers at me, not even bothering to slow down or wait for me. I outright gaped at him. "Now." 

I rushed after him. Looking helplessly over my shoulder, I saw Auriel looking after us. 

Good luck. 

Auriel's voice in my head surprised me so much I tripped. 

Mikha'el glared at me. "What's wrong with you?" 

"What's wrong with you?" 

Mikha'el rounded on me immediately. The words had slipped out before I had even meant them to. I was petrified when his eyes flashed and glowed. Bracing myself for another scary encounter in which he showed his true Heavenly body (or perhaps even death), I was surprised when it never came. Instead my friend seemed to deflate. His eyes returned to their normal form, and his shoulders slumped. He looked tired—very tired. 

"How did it go with Indrajala?" he asked wearily, like his heart wasn't in it at all and this was just a formality. 

"What's wrong?" I asked gently this time. 

Mikha'el stopped walking. He opened his mouth but then shut it. He waved me off. "Nothing that concerns you." 

When he started walking again, I gently tugged his shoulder, imploring him to stop. He looked at me. The sadness in his eyes alarmed me. 

"It does concern me," I said seriously. "You are my guardian, my teacher, my ward—you are my best friend." 

Mikha'el looked touched. In fact, I panicked internally when it looked like he might cry. 

"Your well-being is most certainly my concern, Mikha'el." 

His wings drooped. He gave me a rueful smile. "Thank you, Ulcinin." 

I nodded and gave him what I hoped was an assuring smile. Mikha'el turned around then and began to walk. "Lets go." 

I didn't move for a second. Then I rushed after him. "Go? But what about my studies?" 

"They can be postponed; for now, anyway." 

This was highly irregular. As we passed Auriel, I caught him giving us a furtive look, but remained silent. When we reached the doors and Mikha'el pushed against it to open, we were both surprised when it didn't budge. 

"What?" Mikha'el asked. 

He pushed again. Nothing. Growling in frustration, he pushed again. When it still didn't budge he growled, throwing all of his weight against it again and again. I was afraid when the eyes of Metatron appeared, glaring down at Mikha'el. 

Mikha'el took a step back, glaring right back with his hands fisted on his hips. To my slight amusement, he stomped his foot. 

"Let me out!" 

I got the feeling Metatron shook his head. 

Mikha'el stomped his foot again. "I said, let me out!" 

"Sh!" 

I looked over my shoulder. Auriel had his finger to his lips, looking pissed. I looked back at Metatron and Mikha'el. Mikha'el pointed at Metatron, anger literally flaring up; white flared off his wings in small licks of fire. 

"Do not lecture me what I am and am not to do," Mikha'el snarled. 

Metatron looked enraged. It was terrifying. How a sentient library could be terrifying I'll never know, but when Metatron is angry, it really puts the fear of God in you. 

"Metatron, do not stand in my way, or so help me God I'll—" 

The eyes still looked fierce but also amused, clearly egging Mikha'el on. I was further scared when the eyes began to glow and turned purple. Mikha'el was quiet for a while, and I got the distinct impression they were communicating somehow. Behind us, Auriel shooshed again, louder. 

"I spent all of yesterday speaking with God," Mikha'el finally spat. Literally. His voice shook and he was so angry spital flew out of his mouth. "So if you really want to continue this discussion, by all means, but I am telling you that I don't need your comments, you stupid, unsightly, heap of books—" 

"Enough!" Auriel finally shouted. I heard him slam both hands down, and I turned to him. Even from across the room he looked fierce, eyes glowing red. "Stop it, this is a place of study! It's supposed to be quiet! Metatron, if Mikha'el wants to leave, then by God let him leave! It's not your problem if trouble comes down on his head because of it!" 

The eyes disappeared and both doors flew open, with it a great gust of wind. I stumbled forward. Then I looked over my shoulder. 

"Thank you," Auriel said a little quieter, picking up his quill and turning his glowing eyes back to his work. 

Mikha'el stormed out and I followed, quick on his heels. He was practically running. Everyone stepped aside from us, looking scared of his glowing eyes and flames snapping off him. I was led to the tavern, still scurrying behind him as he billowed in. 

"I want the establishment to myself," he barked as soon as we entered. The angel's took one look at him and hurried out. 

Meekly the angel who served everyone came forward. Mikha'el looked at him and his eyes flared. The angel cringed. 

"You too." 

They spoke in a trembling voice. "Might I get you something before I take my leave, honorable one?" 

"Meade." Mikha'el paused, seeming to relax just slightly. "Please." 

The angel was gone and back to quickly I barely saw his movements. As soon as drinks were in hand, he outright disappeared. It was only then did the archangel's shoulders uncoil from the tension and anger. Even so, he stalked around the open building, waving his hand every few feet in between the large white pillars that held up the ceiling. As he did symbols came into existence, a strange white-blue, but then they disappeared as quick as they appeared. When he was done it didn't appear anything had changed, not to the naked eye. My being could feel whatever he had done though. 

Mikha'el's eyes returned to their normal crystal clear blue, and his wings stopped flaming. Once more looking weary, he walked over to where we always sat, threw himself into his chair, and sunk down into it. I was mildly alarmed when he finished his meade in one elongated pull. When done, he put the empty chalice on the table and threw himself back once more. 

I had been standing in the middle of the establishment. With much trepidation I moved to where he sat. Too afraid to sit, I asked, 

"What did you do?" 

He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. 

"With the symbols." 

"Oh. That." He rubbed his eyes and then looked at me. "Well, I'm not supposed to tell you yet, but fuck it. I created sigils that make it impossible to see into this building or to hear through it." 

My eyes grew. "Oh." 

"It only works against angels though." 

He still looked like he had sucked on a lemon. Gathering up all my courage, I put my own meade down and sank into my chair. Against fear, I reached out and put my hand on his knee. This surprised the archangel for he looked at me, lips slightly parted. It broke my heart, so I spoke sincerely. 

"I hate seeing you like this, Mikha'el. You're in pain. What happened?" 

For a second he looked like he might burst aflame entirely. Instead his features seemed to melt, and he started crying. His weeping embarrassed him, and he covered his face with both hands. 

"I'm sorry," he told me with a trembling voice. "I'm sorry to show you such weakness. I shouldn't—I shouldn't be doing this—" 

Gently I pried his hands away. I gave him my best smile. "Nonsense, Mikha'el. It's just me." 

He smiled, trying not to outright sob. I clasped his hands tighter. "What happened?" 

"I fought with God." 

I released his hands. Mikha'el waved a dismissive hand and then wiped the tears away. "This isn't the first time. Him and I, well, we have—" 

"Yes?" 

"Varying opinions." 

I raised my right eyebrow. Mikha'el sighed heavily and leaned forward, grabbing my meade. He downed it with the same enthusiasm as he had his own. Then he sat back once more, the gloom settling over his face. 

"God implied he was angry that we had met with Fate," Mikha'el said. "Fate is barred access to Heaven—mind you, simply because it does not fall under his jurisdiction. Fate was the one who planned our meeting, bypassing God. Apparently Fate had been pestering Him to meet with you for awhile now." Mikha'el clenched his right hand into a fist, and spoke through gritted teeth. "I had no idea." 

Mikha'el got to his feet and began pacing. "That's the entire problem, Ulcinin! He picks and chooses what He wants to impart upon me. I am His second in command, yet He withholds from me something as important as Fate wanting to meet my ward, my pupil? It's preposterous, utterly nonsensical!" 

"I'm sure He had His—" My words died upon my lips under his glare. I sank into my seat a little. "Sorry." 

"That isn't even what He was upset about, not really," Mikha'el said, keeping up his agitated pacing. "He was upset that the day had finished and we hadn't met your required tutorial time. So, then when Indrajala stole you away for the day yesterday, well, He was angry at that, too!" 

I opened my mouth to reply, but he spun towards me, barely able to stop himself from shouting. 

"I mean, what the bloody fuck was I supposed to do? Tell Fate no? Tell Fate to go home, or go to wherever he resides because he's not allowed in Heaven?" 

I closed my mouth. 

"Indrajala is known to have a temper." Mikha'el laughed bitterly. "What was I supposed to do there? Tell a primordial Goddess to fuck off?" 

I blinked. Mikha'el laughed bitterly again. "Perhaps I should have. She'd have snapped my neck. Would've served Him right, to be down an archangel." 

I spoke very carefully. "I get the feeling you have been angry about this a great while, and it has nothing to do with Fate or Indrajala." 

"I just don't understand!" he complained, throwing himself back down onto the chair. "He complains that you're not learning quickly enough, yet at the same time He bars me from teaching you basic things! It's like He has it backwards; instead of teaching you fundamentals He is denying your powers as an angel and having you delve into books and scrolls, and, and the inner workings of things before I feel you're rightly prepared for! "

I opened my mouth to speak, but once again he cut me off. 

"Like the scrying pool last year! It was too much for you! And, don't be ashamed, for Raphael told me how you wept—but that's my point entirely!" 

He was on his feet again, furiously pacing. 

"To behold the beauty of The Surface is overwhelming for any angel who was once mortal. But to have that be your first exposure into your true visage?" 

He looked at me softly. "I must admit I didn't foresee you being so rattled by your appearance, but I get it. I don't blame you for being unable to view The Surface. And that's what's so frustrating! God is just shoving you into waters before you even know how to keep your head above it!" 

I was a mess of confusion, sadness, and pride. "I thought I was doing well?" 

Mikha'el came and sat immediately, taking my hands into his own. 

"You are," he said earnestly. "You are doing spectacularly for what's been given to you! But you don't know about wards and sigils. You don't know how to tap into your well of power. You don't know how to smite. You don't even know how to communicate telepathically yet!" 

I'm sure my face echoed the pain I felt. 

"It's just—stupid! It's stupid, and I don't understand!" 

"Isn't part of God being God is that you're not meant to understand everything, and you just have to have faith?" 

For a moment I thought Mikha'el was really going to kill me. Instead, he broke out into unhinged laughter. He released me and sat back, now wiping happy tears from his eyes. Calming himself, he shook his head. 

"Yes, Ulcinin, yes." 

We lapsed into silence. I was itching with curiosity though. 

"Mikha'el?" 

"What?" 

"May I ask you something?" 

He seemed to seriously contemplate his response. "You may, but depending on what you ask, you might not receive an answer, or the answer you seek to your agreement." 

I looked at him straight in the face. "Why am I receiving differential treatment?" 

Mikha'el puckered his lips. I ground my heels in. 

"Can God hear us right now?" 

My guardian angel chuckled and turned his head away from me. "Of course He can. Wards mean literally nothing to Him." 

Now I lapsed into silence. Folding my hands patiently in my lap, I waited, eyes looking at his profile. It didn't matter to me; either I would have my answer or I wouldn't. Obviously I would prefer to finally understand what the fuck was happening, but either I would be told or I wouldn't, and I knew one way or another what I garnered was out of my hands. 

"Forget it. I no longer care," Mikha'el abruptly declared, swinging his head back around to face me. 

I hadn't expected him to actually tell me. I had hoped, but learning that God was listening had squashed those optimistic thoughts. But now that he was looking at me with such utter seriousness, I knew what was coming. I knew, and I panicked. 

"Mikha'el, no, I can't have you getting in trouble—" 

"You're being trained to be my replacement, should that situation ever present itself." 

I slammed my mouth shut. My entirety felt numb. It was beyond shock, beyond disbelief. I felt faint. 

"That would only happen if I either become incapacitated somehow to the point where I can no longer carry out my duties, or I die."