Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Illium continued to be fascinated by the iridescent scales that covered one side of his face before flowing down his neck to his shoulder and arm, a protective armor that was all but impenetrable.
It always made Illium wonder about the world Marduk had called home.
“I sensed a ripple in the currents of the earth two days past,” said the archangel, who insisted he was no Ancestor, but who had wings that shimmered with the hues of a black pearl and featured feathers so small, they were but embellishments. “But that is all. You have become in your own time.”
Illium, Raphael said, bring up territory. Stake your claim.
Yesterday
38
A hundred years on from the amber revel that had birthed an enduring tradition among angelkind, Aodhan found himself heading back to Titus’s territory. While he’d departed for this gathering from New York, Illium was coming from the Refuge, having been drafted to handle a delicate issue there. That Illium had resolved the problem without bloodshed was a testament to his way with people, as well as his growing ease in matters of angelic politics.
Aodhan’s wild, courageous, brilliant Blue was growing into the skin of the general he would soon become—there was a reason Raphael had sent him on this task, and he didn’t think Illium realized it. It wasn’t a test. No, it was a final tempering before Illium stepped into his new role.
Another century, perhaps two, and Aodhan had no doubt he’d be not only a general, but Raphael’s first general.
“Do you care?” a curious Izak had asked him not long ago. “That his battle rank will be higher than yours?” Because the writing was on the wall; Illium was just the best fighter anyone had ever seen. But even more, he was good at getting his people to give their best, too.
Aodhan had shaken his head. “I always knew he’d end up a general.” It was Illium’s dream, one he’d worked toward since childhood. Aodhan loved seeing him shine in his chosen field. Illium felt the same about Aodhan and his art—the boy who’d never been able to sit still had nonetheless had endless patience with a best friend who could sit in place for hours while doing a sketch.
Illium would practice sword drills or do push-ups but he’d never stray far. These days, he cleaned his weapons or worked on strategic security plans in Aodhan’s studio while Aodhan made art.
Never had one envied the other; they were simply too different in their pursuits. That was part of what made them so good together. Illium had learned patience and the art of quiet from Aodhan, as Aodhan had learned to step outside his comfort zone and allow his wildness out from Illium.
Smiling at the memory of Illium racing back and forth across a short distance to build up his endurance, while Aodhan painted in an alpine grassland that overlooked a young mountain range, he waved at the scout who raised his hand in greeting from afar. Having been granted carte blanche to come and go from Titus’s lands, Aodhan powered on, once again on a flight to Narja, the city that continued to thrive without ever losing its border heart.
Eh-ma was waiting for him on the roof, not in her warrior guise today, but in a gown of air and silk that made her skin glow, the gold-tipped black of her hair free to tumble down her back. “Aodhan.” Her embrace was warm and as fierce as always—Eh-ma didn’t ever hug her “boys” lightly.
“Where’s my stepson?” boomed a familiar voice. “Late again? His step-grandmother will have a word or seventeen to say about that!”
Chuckling at Titus’s ominous tone as Lady Sharine laughed—the sound initiating a cascade of happy childhood memories—Aodhan reached out his forearm to greet the Archangel of Southern Africa. But the big archangel hauled him into an embrace. Once, that would’ve been unwanted, and once, Titus wouldn’t have done it. But it was Aodhan who’d initiated the first embrace, when he and Illium hosted Titus and Eh-ma in their home.
These days, Titus was one of Aodhan’s people through Illium and Eh-ma.
“Does the first general know you’re calling her a step-grandmother?” he asked after they stepped apart, for despite the fact that Avelina stood as Alexander’s second now, she remained the first general to her children.
“She’s the boss of us,” one of Titus’s sisters had said with a shrug. “I mean, those are the facts.”
Today, one arm around Lady Sharine’s shoulders, Titus rubbed his jaw. “My mother loves nothing more than to talk about the grand dynasty she founded. At least I am not Charo or Phenie—according to the first general, they have been partnered more than long enough to have given her grandchildren by now.”
He threw up his free hand. “My stalwart Phenie was so traumatized by our mother offering her advice on how to couple for the best fertility that she ran to hide in my southernmost citadel. As if I have any power over the first general!”