Realizing that not only had Aodhan found her a safe place to sit but that she actually had an excuse to do it, Elena took a seat in the window with her legs out in the courtyard and crossed at the ankles, the ice blue fabric of her gown sliding over her boots. This gown had a flowy skirt but was a little edgy, from the straight neck, to the way it hugged her torso to the hips, to the silver zipper anchored at her right hip and split out on the diagonal over the fabric.
Elena hadn’t been able to figure out a way to wear her crossbow with it, but she had access to other weapons, including the throwing knives in her wrist sheaths, the gun strapped to her ankle, and the long knife down her spine. Hair twisted up with Mahiya’s blade sticks, she also wore a bracelet that could snap open to become a garrote.
Still . . . “I hate gowns.” Especially in a place that made her instincts bristle.
“You wear them with dangerous grace,” Aodhan said as he came to stand beside her on the outside. Together, they watched the two Luminata practice the slow, graceful movements. They wore their robes even for this, hoods pulled over their heads to obscure their faces, but their wings out.
One set of wings was a familiar searing white with dark brown primaries.
!!!!!
It hit her. The impact of Caliane’s voice. A roar of sound smashing into her, threatening to explode her eardrums and making her pulse roar, her blood thunder. She kept herself from reacting only by gripping the edge of the stone on which she sat and keeping her gaze blindly focused on the two Luminata in the courtyard.
And she knew she was going to fail.
Caliane was an Ancient, Elena an angel barely-Made. She simply didn’t have the capacity to process that much power. Raphael.
I am here. An intense wave of a different power, one that tasted of the sea and the wind and the fury of a storm of light and darkness, it shoved back the echo of his mother’s voice. My apologies, hbeebti. I’m afraid I grew up with Caliane’s voice. I have forgotten how very potent she is.
Able to breathe now, Elena inhaled shakily, exhaled. Once. Twice. Three times. Her chest still hurt, but her heart was no longer in danger of bursting in a bloody mess. You heard her as a baby? The idea was staggering.
I was apparently born with a kind of immunity.
Elena made herself release the stone, two dark red lines on her palms the only sign of how hard she’d held on. I’ve got things under control. I know you need to focus on the meeting.
It hasn’t yet begun—we’re waiting for Michaela.
Of course. She likes to make an entrance.
Attention returning to the Luminata in the courtyard when Raphael slipped away a few minutes later, Elena realized her pulse was still erratic. “Aodhan, can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, Ellie?”
“What do you think would happen if Caliane decided to sing again?”
A long pause. “It would either be a sign of great joy on her part—or the return of her insanity.”
“Yes.” Elena nodded quietly, her skin suddenly chilled. “That’s what I think, too.” She hoped for the former but was terrified it might end up the latter. Because if it did, then Raphael would have to attempt to kill his mother a second time around. No child should ever have to go through that.
In front of her, the slow dance of the Luminata began to speed up . . . and up.
17
Elena sat up in interest as she realized the two Luminata had pulled out weapons—long sticks with which they danced an intricate martial dance. Replace those sticks with swords, she thought, and they’d be killers. No surprise, not given what she’d already picked up from the way the older Luminata moved through the hallways.
And notwithstanding the other creepy things about this place, the fact the Luminata were warriors didn’t immediately negate their stated goal of luminescence. There was contemplation in the physical, too. On a more pragmatic note, these guys had given up sex, money, other vices and sins. They had to get rid of all that testosterone in some way.
Why not in combat?
. . . it’s possible Gian was already Luminata when he was involved with the unknown woman. And not just a brother—he’s been the Luminata for centuries.
Raphael’s words reverberated in her mind at the thought of vows and vices.
Right then, Gian made a particularly smooth move that had her releasing a quiet whistle. His hood fell back at the end of the move, hair of dark brown exposed to the morning sunlight.
The two men drew apart a few seconds later and bowed to one another, sticks held out to the side. The still-hooded male left via the external corridor to the left, but Gian turned directly toward Elena, telling her he’d been aware of her presence the entire time. “Consort,” he said formally.