Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
War is inevitable. Aegaeon’s own senior court has attempted to talk him down, but nothing is getting through to him. He has been stewing in his anger for centuries, wants blood.
Arrogance and rage made for a bad combination.
Caliane’s hands clenched on the edge of the wall. She knew she should keep her distance, keep herself in reserve to help Illium when war did break out—for none of the Cadre could go anywhere near him right now without igniting the entire thing. But…
Taking a deep breath, she turned and strode into the citadel. Jelena, meet me in my suite.
Caliane was already in old and well-worn white leathers by the time the angel appeared at her door. “My apologies.” Breathless words. “I had headed out to meet with a scout-wing commander deep inside the territory.”
Her thin face settled into a frown as she took in Caliane’s clothing, the way she’d done her braid. “You are flying elsewhere already?”
“Yes.” She told Jelena her intent.
The other woman sucked in a breath. “Sire, that is a mistake,” she said, her cheeks burning hot. “Archangel Aegaeon is on a dangerous edge. You know he won’t see you as a friend or compatriot, not now.”
Caliane looked at the sword that she often carried in battle, but which she’d left in its sheath on the bed. “I know. But I must attempt this. Not just for the world—but for Sharine.” Her best friend had been through too much pain in her life, and Caliane had been gone for centuries upon centuries of it.
No more.
Today, she’d stand for the woman who’d stood by her side as her friend for eons. A woman whose son had ever been loyal to Raphael. “I won’t be unwise in how I approach Aegaeon,” she promised. “But I can’t live with myself if I don’t try.”
Jelena, tall and lithe, her build all muscle, didn’t get out of the doorway. “My lady, what makes you think he’ll even listen to you? He isn’t listening to anyone else—and you are Raphael’s mother. He hates our Rafe.”
Our Rafe.
Because Jelena had carried Raphael on her hip, too, had seen him come of age through all the seasons of his young life.
“I have my reasons,” Caliane said. “Move, Lena. You know you can’t stop me.” She touched the other woman on the shoulder. “Hold my territory safe. I leave it in your trusted hands until my return.”
Jelena’s cheeks still burned hot. “Be careful, sire.” Then she walked Caliane out to the border wall, from where Caliane took flight into the flat blue sky, on her way to meet an archangel in the grip of a blind rage.
65
Your son is his own man. Should he wish to go with you, I will not hold him to his sworn vows.
—Archangel Raphael to Archangel Aegaeon (At War’s End)
While yet far enough offshore from Aegaeon’s territory that her presence wouldn’t be deemed a threat—because at this point, she could go in any direction—Caliane reached into her pocket to remove a communications device. It had been superseded while she Slept, but Tasha had checked and informed her it still worked.
Now, she used it to make a call that showed the face. “I would speak to Aegaeon,” she said to the grim-visaged vampire with slashing cheekbones and dark eyes who answered.
“I will pass on the message, Lady Caliane.” The vampire’s tone was respectful if edgy. “But the sire is extremely busy at present and may not respond with speed.”
“Tell him it is about Aaeva.”
The vampire frowned, the name clearly unfamiliar to him. But he was seasoned enough to know that one did not get in the middle of conversations between archangels without an invitation, so he simply bowed his head. “I will do so now.”
Caliane remained offshore in the minutes that followed, using the winds to glide over the ocean waves. The minutes turned into an hour, longer. But then, there! Blue-green on the horizon, a shimmer of silver.
No winged battalions as a dark shadow.
Only a single archangel with wings of a deep green streaked with blue and shoulder-length hair of a much more vivid blue-green.
“How dare you!” Aegaeon roared when he was within vocal range. “You do not say her name!”
Water surged up in spouts around her, the wind whipping up as the silver swirl on Aegaeon’s bare chest glowed akin to his wings. “Someone must say her name.” Despite the violent storm around them, she kept her tone tempered. “Someone must remind you.”
He smashed down a fisted hand, and the water soared up and around them until they were trapped in a vortex that wanted to suck her down, crumple her wings, and shove her into the deep.
But she was an Ancient, too, with powers of her own.
She didn’t use them in offense, only to hold off the water so that, rather than a threat, it became a room that insulated them from the world; then she used her abilities to dampen the roar of the water. “You have forgotten her,” she said. “It has been so long that you have forgotten her.”