Archangel's Heart(30)

Stay with us. He wanted any watchers to be aware that his consort would never be alone, because while he knew Elena could defend herself, he also knew immortals had a tendency to see her mortal heart first, her weapons second. We’ll find out soon enough. Then he rose high, only to drop down beside Elena in a hard, fast dive that required precision timing.

“Show-off.” Admiration glinted in her eyes.

And he felt young again, as he felt only with Elena. Not the archangel responsible for millions of lives, mortal and immortal, but a man with his lover. Raphael with Elena. “I must not disappoint our audience.”

“Good point.” Elena pulled her crossbow free, retrieved a bolt from the forearm gauntlets Deacon had modified for her so she could carry five bolts on her even when it was impossible for her to wear a full quiver. “How about a game, since we’re early anyway?” She shot a bolt toward the earth without warning.

Raphael collapsed his wings, dropped like a bullet . . . and caught the bolt. Then he raced up to catch a second she shot across the sky, went sideways to catch a third.

The voice that came into his mind as he caught the final one, which she’d shot so close it nearly grazed his wing, was a familiar one. Ancient and commanding and with more than a touch of arrogance. My grandson has just fallen in love with your consort, Raphael. He tells me he wants a lover who shoots at him, too.

Lips curving, Raphael winged his way to Elena to return her bolts to her. As she slotted them away, having already strapped on her crossbow with the ease of long practice, he told her what Alexander had said. She grinned, the wind sweeping her hair back from her face. “Boy has good taste.”

Alexander and his grandson—named Xander, in honor of his grandfather—were now visible in the distance. Alexander’s golden hair and silver wings marked him out well before the Ancient came close enough for his face to be clear. As for Xander, he was an amalgam of his parents but he was also very clearly Alexander’s grandson.

His hair was a rich, dark brown, his skin a brown so light it was dark gold, and his wings a deep black that faded into darkest brown with touches of gold—but spread out, those wings bore an underside of purest silver.

Your grandson flies well, he said to Alexander. I’m surprised you brought him with you. At two hundred, Xander was young, green, and Alexander had already lost his son.

Sire, Aodhan said at the same instant. Alexander’s third. I recognize him. Valerius.

The name was familiar to Raphael: Valerius was one of Alexander’s most loyal angelic generals, a man who’d been loyal to that family line for so long that to think of Valerius was to think of Alexander. You break the Luminata’s laws?

Alexander was close enough that Raphael could see the shake of his head. The children of the Cadre are always permitted to any such meeting, so long as they are less than two and a half centuries of age. Anger and sorrow hardened his features. My son is dead, so my grandson is permitted to attend.

Raphael hadn’t known that rule—but then, he’d never needed to know it. Are you certain he’ll be safe?

Not answering, Alexander came to flank Elena, maintaining a respectable three feet of distance between their primaries. The Ancient was nothing if not traditional. “Consort,” he said in greeting.

“Archangel Alexander,” Elena replied, since she and Alexander didn’t have a relationship of informality, as she now did with Titus. “No offense, but why did you bring that gorgeous kid?” She nodded at the young male, who’d dropped to fly low over the landscape.

Alexander could’ve pointed out that Xander was two hundred years old, give or take a year or two, while Elena had barely passed the three decade mark, but they all knew immortals didn’t age as mortals did. Xander wasn’t actually the kid Elena had named him, but neither was he considered full grown. He was a stripling—around twenty, maybe twenty-one years of age in human terms.

For angels, their third century of life tended to be the defining moment between childhood and adulthood. Some angels were considered true adults after two centuries and a quarter, others required a little more seasoning. From what he knew of Alexander’s bloodline, Raphael wagered the stripling would transition to adulthood in a quicksilver heartbeat. Mere decades at most.

But today, in this moment, he remained a youth.




“It heartens me that you and your consort both ask after the safety of my grandson,” Alexander said. “Perhaps there is hope for the Cadre.”

You know I will not betray you unless you do the same first, Raphael said, connecting Elena into the conversation through his own mind. You are the reason one of my Seven is currently able to live freely with his mate.