Archangel's Resurrection (Guild Hunter #15)(45)

“Alas,” Alexander continued, “she now has a new lease of life and runs my household with an iron fist.”

Dark words, but she caught the love that underlay each one. Zanaya’s smile creased her cheeks now. Part of why she’d always loved Alexander was that while he might be arrogant with his peers, he was never anything less than kind with those who had far less power or standing. He allowed himself to be lovingly bullied by Lemei and other housekeepers, ate ridiculous dishes so his chefs wouldn’t have their feelings hurt, and, in times of peace, always held large feasts for all his staff.

It was why his people so adored him. Not that a single one of them would brag of any of his acts of kindness to others. Oh no, they were utterly invested in maintaining the pitiless image of their archangel. “I’m also a general,” she pointed out in faux outrage. “Do you say my hair needs to be soft and to glow?”

He groaned and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, one big hand cupping her upper arm. “You are a star, Zani. You glow clad in nothing but dirt and sweat.”

“Such charm you have, lover.” But she relented. “Come, put this magical cream in my hair and tell me of Rinri. Did he die in battle at least? That was his most ardent wish.”

“Indeed,” Alexander confirmed. “During a confrontation between archangels. But before that . . . well, it turned out Rinri did have one other talent: fathering children on one and many a lover.”

Then, as she lay there against him, her eyes closed as he massaged her scalp with knowing hands, he told her of Rinri’s life, and that astonishing count of children. “Is it a record, do you think?” she asked at the end, her voice a touch languid. “With angelic fertility being so low in general, it surely must be.”

“Yes,” Alexander said. “As far as I know, he fathered more children than any other angel in our history.”

“Well, I can say he would’ve gone into death with a smile on his face after leaving a legacy such as that.” She lifted an imaginary glass. “To Rinri. May you rest in peace, my friend.”

“To Rinri,” Alexander echoed, his voice resonant and beautiful.

He told her more things she’d missed in the time of her Sleep, and she told him of things he’d missed because they hadn’t spoken for some time before she went into that Sleep. “Regardless of being wrenched forcefully from my rest,” she said, “I feel so much stronger than when I went into that rest, so much more present. I’ll never be sorry for Sleeping.”

His arms, which he’d placed around her under the water, tightened.

“No, lover,” she murmured. “Not even for you would I chance madness. It takes far too many of our old ones.” As if the mind was only built to run so long without stopping, it began to decay and fracture the longer it was in continuous use.

“I did go into Sleep some four centuries ago,” he told her, answering the question she hadn’t been able to bear to ask. “My rest was foreshortened by the Cascade.” A pause, then, “Have I told you about Naasir?”

Frowning, she went to push him about his decision to Sleep, find out what had precipitated it, but something in his voice made her hesitate. Pain, such pain. “Who is Naasir?” she said instead.

“Osiris’s greatest achievement.” His voice caught, hitched. “I had to execute him, Zani. More than half a millennium ago, I had to kill my brother because if I did not, he would’ve become an ever-greater monster—one who had no awareness of his evil.”

A single hot splash against her shoulder.

It stabbed her more deeply than any blade. Alexander, she knew without asking, hadn’t trusted his grief to anyone else in all the centuries since his brother’s death. Because Alexander simply wasn’t this man when he wasn’t with Zanaya. It was only with her that he gave himself permission to be a little softer, a little gentler.

Wrapping her arms around the ones he had around her, she didn’t stay silent. Another might have, thinking he would tell her the entirety of this bleak piece of his history in his own time. But she knew the general—the fact he’d brought it up meant he wanted to tell her . . . had kept it locked up inside him until this instant. Because only with Zanaya could he rip his heart open.

Her own heart cracked open.

She couldn’t bear it when he was wounded, wanted to kill anyone who’d dared hurt him. That it had been Osiris who’d inflicted this mortal wound . . . Her eyes went hot, threatened to leak, but today she had to be the one who held him. So she swallowed her tears and turned to press her lips to his upper arm.

“Tell me, lover,” she murmured. “Tell me why your brother left you with no other choice.” Because if he had, Alexander would’ve taken that other choice. He’d loved Osiris, looked up to him as a younger sib, even though he’d long moved past Osiris in emotional maturity.

Alexander took a deep shuddering breath. “I was tired, Zani.” Rough words. “Tired enough that your words about fading in dying flickers had come to haunt me.” His arms tightened, as if holding on to her as a talisman against pain. “But by then, I couldn’t go into Sleep. A terrible gnawing worry kept me awake and in the world.”

And then he fell hundreds of years into the past, taking her with him . . . until he stood speaking to Titus on a mountaintop in his friend’s territory.