Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Then I accept, Suyin,” Illium said, because she’d been careful to couch her offer as an exchange rooted in honor.
He also knew beyond any doubt that he could trust her and her people.
Unbeknownst to anyone else in this space but Raphael and perhaps Caliane, Illium and Aodhan had visited China with regularity over the years. Not only to see Suyin and witness the healing of the land Lijuan had brutalized, but to meet with Jinhai, the broken, twisted boy with clipped and scarred wings they’d discovered in the snow.
Suyin had grown into her power, had a steel core, but she’d remained honorable throughout in a determined repudiation of the monster her aunt had become. As for Jinhai…his wings had grown back strong and undamaged, but his mental journey would be longer, far longer.
“I would offer you the same,” Caliane said. “You have but to make the request. It’ll be good to have a solid territory in that region again.”
The conversation ended soon afterward, all the archangels blinking out of the meeting room one by one. Groaning, Illium shook off the tightness across his shoulders and down his spine. He wondered when it would end, this sense that he was playing at a game of power. Would there ever come a time when it would feel natural? When he wouldn’t have to consciously plan his words, or analyze those of others?
Upstairs, Montgomery had a veritable feast waiting for him. The butler had laid it out on the table in the library, where Illium had eaten a thousand casual meals, and Illium could’ve kissed him for it. It would’ve been a blow to the fucking heart had Montgomery decided on the main dining room. That was for guests, not family and friends. And never for Illium alone.
Sitting down, he began to fuel himself—and wasn’t the least surprised when Raphael took a seat opposite him not long afterward. “Well done, Bluebell.”
Not pointing out the slip of his nickname—it made him feel normal, at home—Illium clanked his tankard of mead against Raphael’s. “You know what I realized?” he said after swallowing his current mouthful. “That I have more friends on the Cadre than not. Most through you, granted, but Suyin, Titus, and you are friends I hold on my own.”
“Yes.” Raphael leaned back in his chair. “The only real problem you have is Aegaeon, and possibly Alexander.”
“Alexander?”
“He’s calmed down since my time, but it’d be wise to be wary. He’s a very old angel, and while he appears settled since he and Zanaya became consorts, you’re a brash new archangel on his border.”
“He offered to give me intelligence about the people in my territory. Should I trust him on that?”
Raphael raised an eyebrow. “If he said that, then yes. Alexander doesn’t play those kinds of games—if he’s going to come at you, it’ll be out in the open. How did you win him over? I’m fairly certain he only tolerates me even now.”
Illium grinned. “Zanaya thinks I’m trouble—and of course, I am Avelina’s favorite grandchild.”
Raphael’s shoulders shook, his grin reaching his eyes just as there was a stir at the doors to Illium’s back. Striding in past him, Elena drew back a chair beside Raphael, sat, then glared daggers at Illium. “You ascended!”
“I know. I know. Not my fault.” Pushing her favorite pastry in her direction in mute apology, he said, “But now you have an excuse to visit my side of the world.”
Dressed in black hunter leathers that hadn’t changed much over the centuries except for becoming closer to soft armor in the protection they provided, the near-white of her hair in a braid, Elena tore off a bite of the pastry. “I am not going to forgive you for this,” she said, and pastry abandoned, got up again before walking out through the external doors.
Raphael, his expression tender, watched her leave. “Go,” he said to Illium. “You can still be her Bluebell for one more day.”
After that…
Throat choked up, Illium shoved back his chair and went after Elena. She wasn’t on the lawn, but he knew where to find her. Her greenhouse had been renovated and repaired countless times over the years but it remained true to the vision she’d always had of it—there was a sense of age about the structure, the iron of it weathered and curved, the curlicues that Aodhan had designed a few hundred years ago the gentlest touch against the glass, which let in all the glorious light that made her plants thrive.
She’d tested out trailing grapevines on the outside but that had blocked too much of the light, so her outdoor growing area was behind the greenhouse, and she took great care to keep the glass free of lichens and other growth. The passage of time meant that the glass was no longer as shiny as it had once been, but the patina just made it lovelier.