Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(25)

He took a breath, finished. “Meri said dates, but I can’t tell dates, but Mama told me not to worry, that she’d tell me the day when it came—and she told me today!”

“Will we stay here all night?” He would if Illium wanted; he knew his friend missed his father.

Aodhan’s father lived in the Refuge, so he was always close by except for the times he had to go be a scholar in a court. He and Aodhan didn’t do things together a lot, not like Illium did with his father when Aegaeon came, but Aodhan knew Father was there if he needed him for anything important. Mostly, he didn’t. Mostly he tried to find the answer by himself, or with Illium’s help.

“No.” Illium’s lower lip jutted out. “Mama said I have to come in before dark. Papa will come to me if he flies in late.”

“You should listen to Eh-ma.” She was Aodhan’s favorite grown-up, even more favorite than his own mother. He never said that anywhere except inside his head, though. He knew it would hurt his mother’s feelings. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

Illium kicked his feet, but not enough to unbalance himself from his perch. “I will.” But he still looked grumpy. “I told her I’m big now, and she said I’m her baby boy. Ugh.”

“But we are babies,” Aodhan pointed out. “We don’t even go to proper school yet!” Only the special one for little angels.

Illium scowled at him. “Papa says I’m a little man. He says I’m going to be in his army when I’m bigger.”

Aodhan wished Aegaeon wouldn’t come at all, even though he knew that was a mean thing to wish. Aegaeon played with Illium lots, and even sometimes invited Aodhan, but Aodhan didn’t like how Eh-ma was when Aegaeon was in the Refuge. It knotted him up on the inside.

It was like she . . . faded.

He fisted his hands, frustrated because he didn’t have the words to explain even to himself what he meant. All he knew was that Eh-ma was different when Aegaeon was here. Like he was a big insect that sucked up all her brightness, that was it.

But even though Aodhan shared everything with Illium, he didn’t share this. Illium would be mad if Aodhan said that about his papa.

Illium loved Aegaeon.

So when Aodhan spotted a glimmer of color on the horizon while Illium was searching another part of the sky, he said, “Look. I think it’s your papa.”

Illium’s entire face lit up. Jumping up onto his feet, he began to flare out his wings. But Aodhan pulled at one wing. “You can’t fly so far. You’ll fall.”

Illium tugged away his wing. “I can fly there.” His forehead creased.

Aodhan also didn’t like how Illium was when Aegaeon was in the Refuge. His friend was still his friend, but he was also . . . hungry to be with his father. Aodhan didn’t mind about that. He still saw Illium all the time. He was mad for Illium, that his father made him so scared about missing time with him that Illium got all tight inside, as if he’d burst if he didn’t grab on to every minute.

“If you fall and break your wing,” he said, repeating something Eh-ma had said to both of them more than once, “you won’t be able to do anything with him.”

Illium’s scowl got darker, but he didn’t fly away. And, after a while, his scowl faded into a smile. He laughed and bounced on his feet. “Aodhan, my papa is coming home!”

Aodhan smiled because his friend was happy, but he didn’t fly out with Illium when Aegaeon got close enough that it was safe. Moments later, someone scrambled up to crouch on the roof next to him.

Naasir’s silver eyes were fixed on the spot where Illium flew toward his father. Illium’s flight path was wobbly, but he was going faster than Aodhan could fly, faster even than some of the older young angels. “It’s Illium’s papa,” he said, even though Naasir probably knew that.

Naasir wasn’t like the other grown-ups in the Refuge. He wasn’t an angel and he wasn’t a vampire. He was just Naasir. He knew grown-up things, and Aodhan had seen him be very serious-faced and “normal” around some people, but he was himself with Aodhan and Illium.

One time, Eh-ma had said Naasir was barely over a hundred. Aodhan had been so surprised, because Naasir didn’t act like the young angels. But he didn’t act like an old angel, either. When he’d asked Naasir, Naasir had told him it was because he was a “one being.” “There’s no one like me in the whole world.”

He was right.

The last time he’d been in the Refuge, he’d played hide-and-seek with them and he hadn’t just pretended like other grown-ups did. He’d played for real, and it had been the best game ever because Naasir was a good hider—and he was really hard to hide from.

Naasir said he could sniff them out, so Aodhan had been tricky and dunked himself in water before hiding, and it had taken Naasir a long time to find him. His silver eyes had been bright when he succeeded, his grin wild. “Good game,” he’d said afterward, then left to take a training session for a group of halflings.

Naasir was fast and a good fighter.

Today, he said, “I don’t like Aegaeon.”

Aodhan’s eyes rounded. He turned to look at Naasir, able to see his profile because Naasir had pulled the shaggy silver of his hair into a short tail, except for a few strands that lay against the dark brown of his skin. Naasir had skin that looked warm, like it had sunshine in it, and people wanted to touch him sometimes, like they did Aodhan—except they were too scared of Naasir to try.