Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(91)

The angel who’d gone down dusted himself off and waved to her in thanks.

And the battle continued.





44


Titus fought himself to near exhaustion in the days that followed, going further and further from Sharine. In desperation, he asked Tzadiq to get him a phone device, and he began to learn to use it so that he could see her face when they spoke.

His second said nothing to the request, but his eyes did plenty of talking.

Titus cared little; he wasn’t a man to hide his emotions even if he knew the future held rejection and a terrible hurt. Sharine had been crystal clear that she didn’t wish to be tied to any man.

Titus couldn’t blame her for her stance.

His heart twisted, the pain more difficult to bear than any battle wound he’d ever taken. She’d flown inside him, had Sharine, and the idea of not having her there always . . . it was brutal.

“Some would say it serves you right,” Tanae said with a distinct lack of sympathy in her tone when she came upon him muttering imprecations at the phone device when it wouldn’t do as he ordered. “To fall so hard for a lover who doesn’t see you as the sun in her sky.”

Titus glared at her. “Gloating doesn’t become you, Tanae.”

“I said ‘some,’ sire.” Her gaze grew distant, his troop trainer focused on a secret inner landscape. “I’m happy for you, that you’ve finally come to know the depth and passion of your own heart and the intensity with which it can feel.”

She glanced down at the ground, her flaming hair in a braid. “I’ve kept my heart confined for centuries upon centuries, my fears old enemies, and now I have a son who is my pride—but to whom I can barely speak. When I do, I say all the wrong things and I see him move even further from me.”

Stunned speechless by this unforeseen and startling show of emotion, Titus watched Tanae in silence as she carried on past him. She’d never been particularly maternal with her son, but this was the first evidence he’d ever seen that the distance between them was a wound that bled.

Perhaps, after the world had settled into some semblance of sanity, he’d speak to Galen, see if his former protégé wished to fly home for a visit. Or would that simply lead to more pain for both parties? Fact was that Tanae could be a hard mother—Titus had thought that even when Galen was a babe, hungry for his mother’s approval.

He knew the gentle and pampered flitterbies—a particular group of orphans raised in his court—had tried to baby the boy, but Galen had been stubborn and resolute even then. That didn’t mean the boy’s brave heart hadn’t bruised each time Tanae withheld her approval. Tzadiq had done his best, but he was more warrior than father. Titus had spent more time with the boy than either parent, but even an archangel’s approbation couldn’t erase the hurt caused by a mother or father.

He sighed; he could appreciate Tanae and Tzadiq as warriors while disagreeing with their parenting strategy. Titus had been raised with discipline tempered by overwhelming love, and that was his template for how he dealt with children. To withhold affection from a child . . . no, he couldn’t agree with it.

He’d ask Sharine her opinion on the matter when he got this blasted device working and they spoke. At least he’d worked out how to send a message.

His fingers felt too big and fat on the sleek screen of the device, but he missed Sharine too much not to persevere. He wrote: I broke the original device by hitting too hard at the screen.

Her response was pure astonishment that he was even attempting to use a phone.

When he did finally succeed with the device, and asked her about Tanae and Galen, she was silent in thought for long moments. “I made awful mistakes as a mother,” she said, her eyes dark with sorrow, “but the one thing I did right was love Illium fiercely when he was a boy.

“I think Tanae has a much harder road to walk—her son is weapons-master to an archangel, and settled with a woman he adores. He’s no boy with a soft heart . . . but she remains his mother. If she truly wishes to build that bridge, she must be willing to forget pride and accept that he could choose to reject her outright. He has that right.”

Expression pensive, she added, “Talk to her, Titus. If she opened up to you, it’s as close to a cry for help as she might ever make.”

Titus had no expertise in such things, but he trusted Sharine’s, so the next time they broke from battle at dawn, he found Tanae and as they cleaned their weapons side by side, he said, “If you die, there ends the chance to speak to Galen—and to make any apologies you wish to make.”

Tanae grew stiff . . . but didn’t move away.

The next day, she said, “I don’t know what to say to him. I get it wrong every time—I’m harsh and mean when I want to be otherwise.”

Out of his depth, Titus asked her if she’d speak to Sharine. “She’s a mother, too, and she understands what it is to make mistakes as a parent.”

Three days later, Tanae said yes, and Titus passed the baton. He knew his skills and he knew Sharine’s.

Together, they made one hell of a team.

It felt good to have her at his side in such a way, to have her strength aligned to and augmenting his own. He could only hope he did half as much for her. Because for the first time in his existence, Titus knew he needed a woman—but he was rawly conscious that the need might not be reciprocated.