Paws flailed desperately and uselessly for purchase. The lion twisted this way and that in Michael's grip, and only caused his skin to bunch painfully. Claws caught on Michael's wrist, but the Archangel's skin was too hard to penetrate, and the lion scrabbled uselessly, whining.

There was no answer, but whatever presence lay behind the lion seemed to withdraw. Michael was angry. It only proved what Gabriel already knew.

"Michael," Merlin said quietly, half a warning and half a plea. It wasn't easy to see this from the outside--to see Michael so stern, almost furious, with his beloved younger brother. The sorcerer couldn't imagine what they must be feeling.

So Merlin tried to keep his tone as compassionate as possible as he said, "We should begin, Michael."