Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(45)

They’d all been honest in that way, and where possible, they assisted one another. Titus, for one, had used his Cascade-born ability to create a deep gorge between his territory and Alexander’s so no one could cross over on foot. While Alexander was known as the Archangel of Persia, his territory actually began on the other side of the isthmus that had connected Africa to Asia until Titus shattered the link using his power.

The lack of a land bridge meant the two of them didn’t have to worry about incursions from the other side, and could concern themselves with the dangers already present in their territory.

In time, their two peoples would find a way to traverse the divide, but for now, the only way to get from one side to the other was to fly or go by the sea. Neither of which the reborn could do—thankfully, the horror of Lijuan’s black-eyed and dead angelic fighters had ended with her, her energy the only thing that had kept them functioning in a nightmare simulacrum of life.

The reborn infection couldn’t take hold in angelic blood.

Streaks of green-black on stone, in the shape of dragging wings.

Gut cold at the memory of what he’d seen in Charisemnon’s stronghold, Titus hoped he’d been wrong, that the pattern had been something other—perhaps two vampiric reborn crawling away together. Because if the sky, too, became a place of war against Lijuan’s voracious “children” . . .

“I assume you’re asking about Suyin because of Aodhan?”

“He’s your son’s great friend.” The warrior-artist was also currently seconded to Suyin.

“He’s also loyal to the archangel to whom he has been seconded,” was the quelling reply. “Though it’s only a temporary position, he treats it with all honor.”

“I’d expect nothing less of one of Raphael’s Seven.” The pup who’d once been a stripling in Titus’s army as Titus had been in Alexander’s had done well to surround himself with such loyalty—and that extended to his consort.

A pang in his heart, powerful and deep.

Every so often, Titus looked at Elena and Raphael, as well as Elijah and Hannah, and wondered what it might be like to have a consort who’d walk with him through the ages of immortality. He’d never, however, come close to forging that deep a bond with any woman.

Some might say he was a true son of his mother’s blood, that he’d never settle, and maybe that was so . . . but Phenie was also of Avelina’s blood, and she’d been with her lover for two millennia and counting. Even Charo, gun-shy after Aegaeon, had settled into warm domesticity with not one but three men.

The first general would be immensely proud of her youngest daughter.

Sharine’s rich tones broke into his pensive—and unsettling—thoughts. “But,” she said, “Aodhan has spoken to me of his own feelings and overwhelming all else is a sense of grief.

“Lijuan has broken the heart of an ancient civilization. So many of China’s treasures are gone, destroyed during the horror of the black fog that murdered. But the biggest lost treasure is the population. All those minds and hearts and their gifts and skills erased from existence.”

Titus tried to imagine it, failed. “Even after the destruction of Beijing”—a destruction caused in the wake of the Cadre’s effort to rein in Lijuan’s lust for power—“I’m used to thinking of China as a place of deep history and culture, with a thriving populace.”

“Last we talked,” Sharine said, “Aodhan spoke of how eerie it is to fly over cities that should be bustling with enterprise and hope and yet sit silent, waiting for its people to come home. People who are long dead.”

“Once, Lijuan was another angel.” An angel with whom he’d never had a friendship, but an angel he’d respected. “A thousand years ago, I couldn’t imagine her doing what she did. Is young Aodhan well?”

“He says he is, but the child feels deeply. I know it’s difficult for him to see so much evidence of death over and over.” A tone to her voice that he’d heard in his mother’s more than once . . . and yet the maternal edge did nothing to dilute his response to her.

Sharine never spoke to him with that tone in her voice; she didn’t see him as a child—and he’d have dared her to try if she’d given that indication. Titus was no one’s child but the first general’s.

“Aodhan is also far from his own people,” Titus said, having heard enough of the angel to know that he wasn’t a man who trusted many. “Is there anyone nearby with whom he can let down his guard?” It’d be impossible with Suyin right now—she needed Aodhan too much for him to ever be in any way vulnerable with her.

“Every warrior must put down his sword at times,” Titus added. “Not even an archangel can go on day after day after day without respite.” It was a lesson he’d learned at his mother’s knee—the value of good comrades, friends, and family. His sisters drove him to lunacy, but it was to them that he went when he wished to just be their petted, harried, and beloved Tito for an hour or two.

“I’ve told him he must fly across to Caliane’s territory to take a break,” Sharine responded. “Even if he won’t be with close friends, he’ll be with warriors he knows from his ordinary life, and it’ll be, as you say, a respite from the heavy duty that lies on his shoulders.”