That moment of doubt was all Samandriel needed to know he'd won. Whatever upper hand Carrick thought he might have now and in the future had been destroyed by something so simple as the truth.
"As you bid," he said, getting up and slipping easily back into his clothes to go and meet up with his doubtlessly fretting master elsewhere in the building. He carried himself not like a slave, but like the angel he had once been, the one he would be again.