Archangel's Resurrection (Guild Hunter #15)(77)

Closing his hand over hers, he squeezed. “We’ll find the truth, and then we’ll find the solution. I refuse to lose you again.”





39


The lone Sleeper could sense others that were kin to him.

Small pockets.

Hidden.

Secret.

Distant.

But the biggest draw was a pulse that beat hard and strong and called to him. As if he were a dog to come to heel.

Anger boiled his blood.

He was no one’s pet.

And he was far smarter than the one who would humble him, who would turn him into prey.

Lying as motionless as the dead, no air in his lungs, he smiled and his face cracked, a small frozen piece falling away.





40


Zanaya’s mouth was dry and her heart a drum as they hit the edge of the “no-fly zone” around Antonicus’s grave. It had been one of the younger angels she’d met in Titus’s lands who’d first used that term, explaining to her that it had been created once mortals began taking to the air in their metal machines.

Zanaya liked it. It was direct and to the point.

Today, tired but with her nerves afire, she and Alexander skimmed icy waters choppy from the wind, their caps white, and shards of ice floating on the surface. In acknowledgement of the fact it would get colder and colder from this point on, she’d pulled on a pair of leathers in black.

Her entire current wardrobe was a gift from Alexander. He’d had multiple sets of clothing created for her in preparation for the day she woke—though he’d had no comprehension of when that might be.

He could be so tender, her general sinewy and harsh.

Her top had no sleeves and closed up the front using an invention called a “zipper” that was a sharp strike of silver against the midnight of the leather, but she’d decided to wear a garment called a “thermal” underneath the leather. Long sleeved, it was decidedly warm and covered her arms.

She treasured the clothing, for it was a symbol of Alexander’s care for her, but she did miss her favorite worn-in leathers. However, there was a limit to how long anyone stored a Sleeper’s belongings. To the credit of those who’d come into her territory after her, they had left her stored items in place—and then an earthquake had collapsed the site, along with her long-turned-to-dust clothing.

No one ever talks about having to get a whole new wardrobe when you wake from Sleep, she said to Alexander. We literally wake up in the clothing in which we went to Sleep, and that’s all we have.

The silver-winged flyer beside her shot her an amused glance. “I was only asleep for a few hundred years—and I had a son as well as my Wing Brotherhood. They stood as guardians over what was mine and were active in preserving my belongings. Most of my personal property came through unscathed.”

She made a rude gesture at him.

His responding laughter melted the ice in her lungs. There he was—her Xander. The one with whom she’d fallen in love and stayed in love through forever. “At least I don’t have to deal with a crisis of conscience over Charisemnon’s belongings.”

Her breath puffed the air as she spoke aloud, and she was almost sure she saw the air turn to ice crystals. “Though, having caught up a little on what he did, I’m very certain it would’ve been no crisis at all. I’d have happily scorched all that he touched with his diseased filth.”

“That’s why the territory needs you,” Alexander said. “Titus has done an excellent job of regaining the trust of the people, so you won’t be starting from scratch. But they are wounded and need a leader who can focus wholly on them.”

“Nursing the wounded is not one of my winning traits.” An unfortunate truth.

“Your second or another can take that role. You’ll be the honorable warrior who they’ll soon learn will rule them with fairness and compassion.”

Zanaya snorted. “Don’t make me sound better than I am, lover.” She had her flaws—she could be short-tempered for one, liked to stir up small troubles for no reason, and found it greatly amusing when others of her kind acted with idiocy.

“You’ve never started a war, Zani,” was Alexander’s riposte. “Not many archangels can say that. Not even I.”

She parted her lips to argue, closed them on the realization that he was right. She might like to stir up small troubles, but that was about as far as it went. Oh, she’d fight like a lioness to defend her territory and her people, but leave her alone and she’d go about her business without releasing the hornets of war.

Chewing on that, she flew on in silence with Alexander. They’d never needed to fill their silences, as they’d never needed to ask permission from each other to speak. It was accepted between them that there would be long periods of quiet, and that interruptions were welcome when something had to be said.

She watched him when he gave in to the youth within and dove down in a steep drop, before spiraling back up. He was silver and gold against the white sprawl below, the ocean hidden by a sheet of ice that was getting thicker with each wingbeat.

The Cadre had chosen this as Antonicus’s place of rest because it was far from all settled places in the world. No one had said it, but she thought they’d also chosen it because it was so cold. To stop any further rot, to perhaps allow him to heal faster . . . if he was going to heal at all.