Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(104)

“I was also not there when Sharine’s mind fractured, or when Illium was separated from his mortal love. And, child, I was not there when you were stolen away, or when you retreated from the world.”

Aodhan didn’t ask how Caliane knew of his history. Archangels had their ways. He didn’t care, either, because her words had made him freeze under the snow-draped trees, his mind awash in the images she’d put together piece by relentless piece.

Aegaeon’s desertion.

Kaia’s forgetting of their love.

Lady Sharine’s broken mind.

The long winter of Aodhan’s withdrawal.

But for Raphael, all of the most important people in Illium’s life had left him in one way or the other.

Aegaeon by choice. Lady Sharine without, but the effect had been the same.

Kaia hadn’t made a choice, either—but Aodhan couldn’t be merciful toward her because she had made the choice to speak the secrets that led to the erasure of her memories and the breaking of Illium’s heart.

Illium was surely not the first angel to have whispered angelic secrets to a mortal lover. Love made people do many things transgressive and not at all sensible. Angelkind didn’t care if one mortal knew their secrets—so long as that mortal kept their own counsel. No one would’ve known Illium had told if Kaia had held his whispers close. But she hadn’t loved Illium enough to keep her silence.

As for Aodhan, he’d been abducted against his will, but the withdrawal, that had been a choice. Not at the start, when he’d been so horrifically emotionally wounded, but later. Later, he’d chosen to stay separate, keep everyone at a distance.

Even his beloved Illium.

Father. Mother. Lover. Best friend.

Illium had spent a lifetime watching people leave him.

Then Aodhan had done it again a year ago. Joining Suyin’s court had just been an escalation of the leaving that had already been taking place, beginning that night in the Enclave.

Breath jagged, he bent over, hands on his thighs. “I didn’t—” He couldn’t speak, his chest was compressed with such vicious force. He’d thought often of how Illium watched over people, how he’d been forced into the role of a caretaker, but never had he seen the other side of the coin.

Abandonment.

No wonder his Blue held on too tight at times.

No wonder he had difficulty letting go.

And no wonder he was afraid Aodhan would forget him.

All those messages he’d sent Aodhan, all the care packages, all the things Aodhan had seen as overprotective hovering, they’d been Illium’s way of reminding Aodhan of his existence. As if Aodhan would ever forget him.

Caliane didn’t attempt to touch him as she said, “We often don’t see the hurt we put on those we love most. And he is so bright, Sharine’s son, so full of life and laughter. He hides his bruises well, I think, your Bluebell, using that joyous self as an impenetrable shield.”

Heat burned Aodhan’s eyes, seared his throat. “How could I not see?”

“Oh, child. You’re young.” Husky laughter. “You think you’ve had so much time to heal from your wounds, but in immortal terms, you’ve had but a heartbeat. I Slept more than a thousand years to get over my madness, and I yet bear wounds that are open and raw.”

“I’m meant to be his best friend and I was so stuck in my own head that I didn’t see.” Aodhan wasn’t going to give himself a pass over this. “He’s the most important person in my universe.” A simple, profound truth.

Caliane’s wings were pure white in his peripheral vision as she spread them slightly, then pulled them back in. “You both have healing to do, growing to do. But you have one advantage over me and Sharine.”

Aodhan rose to his full height, feeling oddly old and heavy. Beaten. With the knowledge of all that Illium had borne and kept on smiling. It had taken Aodhan’s most recent abandonment for him to flinch and try to retreat. And even then, he’d forgiven with a wild grace that humbled Aodhan. “Advantage?”

Caliane’s eyes—those extraordinary eyes she’d passed on to the archangel who was Aodhan’s sire—were ablaze with light, fierce with emotion. “You are in the same time and place, able to hold on to each other, uplift each other. Do not squander that prize, young Aodhan.”

Aodhan felt an almost uncontrollable urge to take flight, return to China. But to do that would be to go against the unspoken wishes of an archangel. “I need to go back, need to find a way.” He’d ask Suyin; she wouldn’t deny him, even if it threw a wrench in the smooth transition of seconds.

“Oh, you young ones. Always moving before you think.” A faint affectionate smile. “This is a new realization for you, a new understanding. Let it settle. Think on what it means—and ask yourself if you can be the friend he needs.”

Aodhan flinched as if struck.

But Caliane was shaking her head. “I say this not as an indictment, but as advice. In all the times you’ve come to Amanat, including all the short runs you did to deal with important tasks for Suyin, I see a growing fierceness of independence in you—you don’t even like it when my maidens dare bring you trays of food.”

Heat burned his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You never were,” Caliane said. “That doesn’t mean my maidens are not clever and able to work such things out on their own. They had no idea what to do about a visiting angel who wanted no assistance whatsoever, approached me for advice for they know you are dear to my own son. I told them to let you be and treat you as a resident rather than a guest, that you’d find your own way to food and supplies.”