Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(22)

They all laughed, and Jae threw a bread roll at him—which he plucked out of the air and began to eat. Feeling at home among the friendly group, Illium updated them on how the other territories were doing, what had been rebuilt, what hadn’t. Additional senior members of Suyin’s court joined them in the minutes that passed, the conversation flowing with ease.

Yet still—and though he had his back to the door—he felt it when Aodhan entered the room. The others had left a space to Suyin’s right, and that was the spot into which Aodhan slid.

Because he was Suyin’s second.

Illium forced himself to keep his wings motionless, didn’t clench his fingers on the cutlery at hand, didn’t even look away from his conversation with Yindi to meet Aodhan’s gaze. The effort cost him, his abdominal muscles rigid and the tendons at his nape stiff.

“Mead?” It was a soft, feminine murmur at his shoulder.

He turned to smile at the mortal woman who’d appeared next to him, a jug in hand . . . and his heart, it stopped.

Kaia.

It was a roar of sound in his head, a thunder in his blood even though he knew Kaia was long dead and buried. But this woman, she had Kaia’s face, had her high, flat cheekbones, her soft lips, her wide and uptilted eyes, the long black silk of her hair. Only her skin tone was different. Kaia had been mountain born, her skin sun brown. This woman’s skin was white with a pink tint to it.

“Angel?” A questioning lilt to her voice as she spoke in a dialect that was one of three he’d heard in common use here.

“My name is Illium.” His voice came out rough, his breath stuck in his lungs. “Yes, thank you.”

He watched her as she poured the old-fashioned drink into his tumbler, and he tried not to stare. He failed.

She had to be one of Kaia’s descendants. The resemblance was too striking. But he couldn’t ask her. She wouldn’t know. Humans rarely had such long memories, or kept such records.

Smiling shyly at him, she moved away, to head to Aodhan.

Whose eyes were locked on Illium.

Do you see? Illium asked his friend, desperate to know if he was going mad.

Aodhan nodded. She must have arrived with the newest group of survivors. I haven’t seen her before. He glanced up then, spoke to the woman.

Her reply was too soft to reach Illium, but it made Aodhan’s face go eerily quiet. After she left to refill her jug, the shattered blue-green of Aodhan’s gaze met Illium’s. Her name is Kai. A family name she tells me.

Kaia. Kai.

Illium swallowed hard, then picked up his tumbler of mead and drank it down to the last drop. He was aware of conversation going on all around him, but it was all just a buzz of noise to him. It took everything he had not to get up and go after her. He just wanted to . . . what? Wanted to what?

That mortal woman wasn’t Kaia, wasn’t his long-dead lover.

And still his eyes watched for her, his skin tight with anticipation.



* * *




*

No matter Illium’s reputation as open and friendly, Aodhan knew he was expert at hiding his thoughts when he felt like it. He’d learned to do it to protect Lady Sharine in her fractured years. Back then, no matter how bad his day had been, Illium could put on a perfect facsimile of joy to protect his mother’s heart.

But Aodhan had been his friend too long not to see through any shield he might attempt. Right now, his friend’s entire attention was on the pretty mortal woman who’d disappeared into the kitchen area.

Aodhan had witnessed Illium’s shock, his own as powerful.

He’d never liked Kaia. She’d treated Illium as a trophy, her angelic lover to show off. He’d seen her as young and foolish and frivolous, a woman who’d never really mature. It had had nothing to do with her mortality—there were angels of three thousand who had as much air in their heads. It was a thing of personality.

He wished with all his being, however, that he hadn’t been proven right.

Aodhan would’ve rather gritted his teeth through Kaia’s entire mortal lifetime if it would’ve meant an end to Illium’s hurt. Which made his next decision simple. Illium.

When his friend’s head jerked his way, he said, Suyin has been held back by fifteen minutes.

Rising at once, Illium stepped away from the bench and toward the doors that led into the kitchens. Aodhan watched him go, unsure of his emotions. Illium had always been fascinated by mortals, compelled by them. It was by looking through Illium’s eyes that Aodhan had first learned to value mortal hearts, mortal dreams.

But Kaia . . .

She’d been Illium’s first love. Illium had given all of himself to her in that generous, uninhibited way he’d had as a young man. The same generosity existed in him to this day, but he’d directed it toward his friends, never again loving as he’d loved Kaia.

Aodhan’s gaze went to the doors through which the blue-winged angel had vanished. Face your ghosts, Bluebell, he thought. Conquer the phantom that haunts you. Even as he thought that, he knew there was a very high chance that Illium would choose the very opposite path.

And if he does?

Aodhan swallowed at the question that bloomed bitter acid in his blood. Kai wasn’t Kaia. Perhaps she would be the healing balm Illium needed, a mortal lover to vanquish the one who’d caused the open wound in his psyche. Perhaps Kai would finally effect what Aodhan had never been able to achieve.