Archangel's Resurrection (Guild Hunter #15)(98)

The realization was welcome but did nothing to ease the tension that had him as taut as a wire. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep before we hear back from Elijah and Raphael?”

Zanaya shook her head. “And we’ve done as much forward planning as we can.” Her gaze shifted to the huge balcony doors open to the falling night; the carvings in the wood glimmered with flecks of gold paint that had faded and been left to their weathered state. It suited all the old books against the walls as well as the well-worn carpet made by gifted mortals in his own lands.

“Much as I despise Charisemnon,” Alexander murmured, “this room is both warm and rich in texture and history.”

“Immortals are complicated beings,” Zanaya muttered, then scowled. “But in this case, he erased all he did in the past with the actions he chose to take prior to his death. As far as I’m concerned, this room belonged to a man who died long before Titus ended Charisemnon in battle.”

“I find myself thinking the same with Lijuan.” Alexander could still remember how bright of heart Lijuan had been before she became addicted to the drug of power. “She looked at me with stars in her eyes once.” A memory old and fragile, a shimmering thing he’d almost forgotten until this very moment. “So young she was, so earnest in her devotion.”

“Did you—”

Alexander shook his head before Zanaya could complete her question. “I felt nothing the same for her, Zani. But I didn’t want to hurt her. I told her she was too young, that to ignore the difference in our ages would be an act dishonorable on my part.”

Soft laughter. “A predictable response if one knew your history.”

Alexander treated her to a mock glare. “Will you hold that grudge for eternity?”

“Yes, to the very last second of our existence.”

Laughing, he looked out at the night again. “I wonder sometimes,” he said, laughter fading, “if she held a far deeper grudge that I didn’t welcome her into my arms, if that’s why she murdered my son and his mate.”

His entire chest ached from the pain of it. “But that is foolish and arrogant, is it not, Zani? She was young, would’ve forgotten me soon enough.”

“Yes,” Zanaya said. “At the end, all she cared about was being bloated with power. The identities and histories of her victims didn’t matter.”

Alexander had to believe the same—else he’d go mad. “What a waste of what could’ve been an extraordinary life.” He could still see Zhou Lijuan as she’d been then, smart and driven and beautiful in her courage. “The young angel I knew was a different person. I can mourn that long-ago angel with her hopes and dreams without feeling any pity for the person she became.”

Fingers touching his in silent agreement, Zanaya said, “I think you need the embrace of the sky, lover.” In her tone was a deep knowledge of the grief that would never leave him, Rohan’s name tattooed on his very heart. “Shall we fly?”

His chest expanded at the idea of being in the air. This land might not be his own, but it sang with Zanaya’s fierce spirit even after so short a time under her reign. “Yes.”

They took off together, flew wingtip to wingtip in silence for a long time, a portentous sense of an oncoming future bearing down on both of them. While her fortress wasn’t located near any major cities, they did overfly multiple smaller settlements, all lit up golden bright as the residents conversed, ate dinner, did business, or had central gatherings.

As with his own lands, the heat of the day was an uncomfortable pressure at present, the early part of night far preferred. He’d ended up overheated and enervated when he’d raced to Zanaya’s home after the skies sickened—and he’d been in the cold air of the clouds, high above the scorching glow of the earth.

“We should walk the night marketplaces when all is calm,” he said to his consort. “Act as we did when we loved in the streets of what is now old Marrakech.”

A startled huskiness of laughter. “Will you buy me trinkets for my wrists and ears again, lover?”

“I already have, Zani. But I intend to hold them hostage until you’re next in my territory.” Glancing down, he wasn’t the least surprised when those who spotted Zanaya against the night sky jumped up to wave, their grins obvious even from such a distance. The bows that followed were deep, and reverent, her people already in love with the Queen of the Nile.

More settlements than not already flew her flag, the colors of her reign violet and black. From the homemade nature of those flags, Zanaya hadn’t sent out a mandate. No, this came from the hearts of those she ruled. “You are beloved.”

“No, lover, I am new.” A quiet power to her. “Your young friend did much to lay the groundwork, but he’s right in saying the people believed he continued to feel more loyalty to the south. Now, those same people pin their fragile hopes on me, look to me to heal what Charisemnon broke.”

Always, she’d seen with a painful clarity.

“The people of neither your lands nor mine are ready for another war,” he said at last, thinking of all those he’d lost to Sleep or to tortured nightmares. “I can say the same for the rest of the world without fearing I speak a falsehood. Some of the structural damage has only recently been fully repaired—and a number of young immortals who were wounded yet struggle through their healing.”