Archangel's Legion

23

“Raphael.” The angel in front of them had slanted eyes of vivid green and wings of silken copper against hair of darkest scarlet, her nearly translucent skin showcasing her otherwise vivid coloring to dramatic effect. Reaching up as Raphael bent down, the act appearing familiar to them both, the stranger pressed her lips to Raphael’s cheek in a soft caress.

“And this,” she said, turning to Elena with a deep smile, “must be your consort. I am honored to meet you.”

“Tasha is a friend from long ago,” Raphael explained, a warmth to him she hadn’t seen with any other female angel. “We played in Amanat as children.”

“Do you remember when we decided to raid every fig tree in the city?” Musical laughter, sparkling eyes. “Your mother was so cross, she made us plant ten fig trees each. I can still see you with the shovel, your face streaked with dirt and leaves stuck in your hair.”

The gorgeous image of Raphael as a mischievous boy made Elena smile, even as her instincts cautioned her to be wary. Unlike Michaela, who made no effort to hide her desire for Raphael and contempt for Elena, Tasha was all warmth and laughter . . . while subtly reminding Raphael they had a history together that Elena couldn’t match.

The depth of her sudden dislike made Elena pause, wonder if she was being fair . . . but then Tasha put her fingers on Raphael’s forearm as she brought up another shared memory. Elena didn’t play games like this, and in any other situation, she would’ve called the woman on it, but there were far more important things in play tonight. Still, she wasn’t sorry to see the back of Tasha when the other angel was called away by a friend.

Raphael’s head jerked up without warning a second later. “Lijuan is here.”

Looking up, Elena saw nothing but starlight. “You can sense her?”

It appears my ability has another aspect.

An instant later, the sky kind of . . . rolled overhead, akin to a heat wave in a desert. Then an angel with wings of flawless dove gray and hair of pure white, her dress an ethereal black, was landing in the center of the courtyard in a graceful descent. The crowd gasped, tension crawling across the large space like the blood Lijuan so often brought with her.

Stay with me, Elena. Raphael cut through the frozen mass of guests, his target not Lijuan but Caliane.

The blade from her thigh sheath already discreetly in hand, Elena made sure to keep Lijuan in her line of sight as they moved through the gathering. Will your mother take this as a hostile act? Elena wouldn’t blame her if she did.

It’s a possibility. She may, however, decide upon chill politeness.

Here’s hoping for a win for angelic etiquette. Two seconds later and they were there.

Caliane’s face a mask of icy fury, she acknowledged Raphael with a glance before stepping out into the now empty—but for the single uninvited guest—center of the courtyard.

“You do not observe the rules of Guesthood.” Caliane’s words were coated in frost and when Elena’s breath misted in front of her, she realized the drop in temperature wasn’t only metaphorical.

Lijuan smiled, her hair flying back from her face in a wind that affected nothing else. “On the contrary.” She raised a hand. “I bring you a gift.”

Ten winged warriors landed behind her with military precision, all dressed in dark gray with Lijuan’s red symbol on their chests.

Raphael stepped toward his mother. Elena.

Understanding the message, she came to a stop slightly behind and to the left of Caliane, while Raphael flanked the Ancient on her right. As if they’d been waiting for exactly that, a squadron of fighters in the midnight blue of Caliane’s forces landed behind them.

“The gift,” Caliane said, actual frost beginning to coat the hem of Elena’s dress and the tips of her wings, “is unsuitable and must be declined.” It sounded like a rote response, except that Caliane’s razored voice had come a hairsbreadth from slicing flesh.

“A pity. They are a well-trained unit.” Smile deepening against skin so thin Elena could see her skull beneath, Lijuan didn’t break eye contact with Caliane.

Elena wondered if Raphael’s mother heard the screams she always did when looking into those pearlescent eyes, as if Lijuan held within her a thousand trapped souls.

“I,” Lijuan continued, “also bring reparation for the damage I did your city on my previous visit.”

Two of her men carried forward a chest, opening it to reveal a pirate’s ransom in gold and gemstones. “A sign of my goodwill.”

“The damage done cannot be so easily repaired,” was Caliane’s frigid response. “The breach is final.”

Audible gasps, the guests closest to the confrontation flinching as if in anticipation of violence.

Elena tightened her grip on her blade, her fingers chilled but functional. Raphael?

My mother has just told Lijuan that no matter how long they live, there can never be anything but enmity between them.

Not a surprise, and nothing that explained the panic she could see on the faces of those who stood nearby. It’s not done to say it so bluntly?

Not unless one side is anticipating another betrayal.

Oh. Caliane, she realized, had just called Lijuan a liar in front of a crowd of the most powerful angels and vampires in the world.

Lijuan’s smile didn’t fade, but Elena saw a slick of black begin to crawl across the eerie paleness of her irises. “It disappoints me to hear that.”

“It disappoints me to have to say it, but your welcome was also a steep disappointment.”

Another round of flinches, but this time Elena had caught the insult buried in what seemed, at first, an incomprehensible statement. She’s talking about the fact Lijuan attacked her right after she rose from her thousand-year Sleep.

The crashing sea of Raphael touching her mind, clean and strong and wild. It’s a shadowy line, so not all may agree, but it was a questionable act at best.

You might want to warn your mother that Lijuan is batshit, won’t play by the rules.

I did so this morning. Do you have other weapons aside from the blade on your arm?

Another knife, but I can easily take a sword from the vampires strutting around with them as fashion statements. Long swords weren’t her weapon of choice, but Galen had drilled her until she could fight with them in a pinch. For future reference, I am never, ever going to a ball again without a crossbow and a flamethrower.

I do not think there will be any further such events until the Cascade is over.

Spreading her feet a fraction farther apart under the skirts of her dress, Elena positioned herself to spin out and grab the sword of the poppycock to her left at the first sign of trouble. But then Lijuan unfolded her wings in a whispering sweep. “I welcome you to my territory. I am certain the breach can be mended.” Her liftoff was silent, as was that of her squadron, the silence so thick, Elena knew it for another blatant display of power.

Raphael lifted off at the same instant, Caliane’s squadron at his back as they tracked Lijuan out of the territory. Naasir is close to you, Elena. Do not stray too far from him.

Recalling his words from before the ball and recognizing the worry behind the autocratic order, she said, I won’t. Be careful.

The air warmed around her, the frost melting away to nothing as Caliane turned, her eyes liquid blue flame. And although Elena knew she was beyond outclassed in the power stakes, she continued to flank Caliane when Raphael’s mother moved through the crowd with elegant grace. Tasha fell in on Caliane’s other side, and in her hand was a gleaming sword—held in a grip that said she knew how to use it and use it well.

“My lovers have always been warrior women.”

The realization slammed into her with the force of a hammer blow, just as Caliane met Elena’s gaze for a fleeting second . . . and inclined her head in the slightest nod of acknowledgment.

Raphael returned deep into the ball, having escorted Lijuan to the sea border.

The rest of the gathering was drama free, the revelry going on till the early hours of the morning. To Elena, the celebrating had the feel of desperation, as if the ordinary angels and the vampires knew war hovered on the horizon and were aware that in a fight between behemoths, it was the weaker who’d become cannon fodder.

Caliane bid them good night sometime after three a.m. and retired to her bed, accepting the escort of a man with the same green eyes as Tasha. Elena and Raphael stayed an hour longer as she’d asked them to act as hosts in her stead, the pain of Kahla’s loss clearly weighing heavily on her once more.

“Keir?” Elena asked, once they’d left the courtyard and the final revelers to their play.

“He has just reached the body. I have Naasir and Isabel standing watch while he examines Kahla.”

Around them, Amanat didn’t slumber, but instead settled into a romantic quietness as couples and small groups strolled through its softly lit beauty, leaving one another alone for the most part. Running her fingers along the carvings that decorated the wall to her left, Elena thought of the body that lay so close to the city, the death that had almost engulfed Caliane’s people, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ve also advised my mother to reinitiate the energy shield for the time being.”

Lijuan, Elena remembered, could get through that shield, but it was impermeable to an ordinary angel, which would leave Lijuan fighting alone against Caliane and her forces. Not something the Archangel of China would risk. “How does your mother do that? The shield, I mean.”

“Alexander could also create such a thing, so perhaps it’s a gift that comes with age. He, too, is an Ancient and now Sleeps.” He spread his wing across hers in a silent signal that he wanted her closer.

The familiar intimacy unlocked the questions twisting her up. “Tell me about Tasha.”

“Her parents were warriors who served my mother. They have once more returned to Amanat—you saw her father offer Caliane his arm as she left tonight.”

Surprised, Elena met his eyes, the heartbreaking blue intense even in the soft shadows of night-not-yet-become-morning. “She didn’t take them into Sleep?”

“No. It was their task to watch over me should my mother ever disappear or die.” His wings glittered in the lamplight that fell from an open window. “Even in her escalating madness, she thought to leave guardians I could trust. Avi and Jelena were—are—to her what my Seven are to me, and though it was the Hummingbird to whom I chose to give my trust, that does not say anything of my deep respect for Avi and Jelena.”

The tie between Raphael and Tasha, Elena realized, went far deeper than a simple physical love affair. “You grew up with Tasha.” Was connected to the other woman by thousands of fragments of time.

“We played through Amanat like wild creatures.” Turning left, he led her to the field of bluebells beside the pond where they’d first seen Caliane. “She remained my friend as we grew, but childhood’s end took us on different paths.”

The area in front of Elena had become a wonderland of shimmering night plants hidden by the bluebells during the day, a silver oasis undiscovered by the others who walked in the city, but she couldn’t concentrate on the wonder of it. “You met again as adults, though, didn’t you? You were lovers.”

“Hundreds of years ago.”

Walking to the edge of the pond, she fought her habit of pretending things didn’t matter when they did, and admitted the truth. “I knew I’d run into one of your lovers sooner or later. I just never expected the first one to be so impressive.”

Raphael thought of the centuries he’d lived growing increasingly remote from the world, the power at his command eating away at the boy he’d once been, and knew Elena didn’t understand the piercing depths of who and what she was to him. Tasha, scholar and warrior, was a friend, but she’d seen the surface of him and been content with that.

In all his existence, Elena alone had torn at that surface, heedless of the risk, until she revealed the man beneath the archangel. And Elena alone had challenged his decisions and his views, forcing him to look at the world in a way he’d never before considered. “There is no comparison,” he said to the only woman he’d ever claimed for his own. “You know me in ways no one else ever has or ever will again.”

The ring of silver molten around her irises, the bones of her face strong and exquisitely unique, she parted her lips on his name just as another message touched his mind. So quickly, the moonlit night was no longer a place of beauty but a reminder of the putrid darkness that slithered on the outskirts, waiting to ravage and violate.