Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(104)

“Agreed.”

“However,” Favashi added, “until the Cadre meets, the section of my territory which fell under Rohan’s aegis is yours.” Grief thickened her voice. “He always said he was looking after it as you would’ve wished.”

Alexander’s eyes sharpened. “You mourn my son.”

“Yes.” White lines bracketing her mouth, Favashi spread her wings. “I leave for my stronghold,” she said to Alexander. “Rohan’s palace—your old home—is badly damaged, but I can send a team to help repair it should you wish to use it.”

“No.” Alexander’s voice was subtly gentler. “I thank you, but my people and I will do what is needed.”

Favashi left without further words, but her mind reached out to Raphael’s as she flew toward the stars. I thank you for not allowing such an evil act to occur on my soil, Raphael. I have stood on the sidelines long enough—from this day forth, consider me your ally.

Raphael acknowledged her words, but he didn’t take them as unfiltered truth. Favashi played a deep game; he couldn’t trust that this wasn’t a great double cross, for the fact she mourned Rohan didn’t mean she didn’t want Alexander dead.

As the Ancient had just proven, he wouldn’t stand aside when it came to matters of territory—and in this land, loyalty to Alexander ran deep. Favashi had garnered respect in the short time she’d ruled, but even amongst mortals, the legend of the archangel with silver wings was talked of with awe and wonder.

Alexander had held this land for millennia before his Sleep.

As such, Favashi must’ve always known that if Alexander rose, she’d lose either all or a massive percentage of her current territory, face having to start all over again. The Cadre’s decision was a mere formality.

“Raphael.”

“Yes?”

“My squadrons will return to me,” Alexander said with a confidence that betrayed his own arrogance. “They’ll sever their contracts and fly home from every corner of this earth, but for now, I have no one who can fly to Titus’s territory.”

Raphael heard the unspoken request. “I must return to my own territory.” He had people to protect, too, and a consort who’d worry until she saw him safe. “However, I’ll fly through Titus’s territory and ask him to send Xander home with an escort. You can trust Titus. He is as he always was.”

“Blunt and honest.” Alexander nodded. “Tell him I will speak to him personally once I have things in order here.” He stared out at the caves under which he’d Slept. “A son should not have to mourn his father when his father is in the prime of his life, and a father should never have to mourn his son, but Xander and I will do this. We will give Rohan life in death and in vengeance.”





45


After everything that had happened, the trip back to the Refuge seemed to go by at the speed of light. Andromeda and Naasir flew in the jet as far as it was possible to fly that way, their time together beyond precious to her. Upon landing, Naasir picked up a small pack of cold-weather clothing Galen had left for him at the airport, and told her to take the skyroad while he straddled the motorcycle the mechanic had retrieved for him.

“Your wings need rest to heal properly,” he told her with a scowl. “The distance you’d have to fly to follow my overland path will only put more pressure on them.”

She didn’t want to be separated from him, but knew he was right. So she flew high in the sky, the ticking clock inside her growing louder with each wingbeat. She understood now that Naasir would never reject her—he wasn’t built that way. He’d claimed her and he’d keep her no matter what. But he couldn’t fight an eon of tradition, tradition that kept everyone safe. If she defected to another territory and the archangel in question didn’t return her to Charisemnon, it would break a visceral taboo.

Even enemies did not steal children from one another. It was simply not acceptable.

Her tears whipped away by the wind, she flew until her wings ached, the sky around her starry velvet. She reached the mountains of the Refuge sometime in the hours between dark and dawn. Flying low, she tried to search for Naasir’s secret home in the forests below, but it was too well hidden, a place he alone could show her.

She landed with stealth once in the Refuge itself, made her way not to her suite in Raphael’s stronghold, but to the aerie she had along the cliff edge. Everything in her body ached, but the worst pain was in her heart. Already, she missed Naasir. Even with his ferocious speed, it would take him at least a day to arrive overland.

Drawing a bath, she sat in it with her arms locked tightly around her knees, trying desperately to think of a way out of the trap in which she was stuck. Nothing. Freedom could come only at Charisemnon’s hand.

Her mouth twisted: Charisemnon expected his blood to do its “duty.”

Getting out on that bleak truth, she dried off, then forced herself to sleep. She didn’t want to waste a minute she could have with Naasir, wanted to be strong and rested when he arrived.

Her enforced rest took her through to midday.

So many hours yet to pass.

Unwilling to speak to anyone else, she stayed in her suite and did the painful task of cataloging any outstanding projects. It would make it easier for Jessamy when Andromeda left, not to return for five hundred years.