“Go. Talk to him,” Raphael said, holding the splintered blue-green of Aodhan’s eyes as the three of them stood alone in the courtyard. “But remember, you have found your voice. And that voice is beloved by more than one person.”
A slight nod. “I will not lose my way, sire.” Pausing for a heartbeat, he added, “I want to live in a way I did not live for two hundred years. I kept myself in a cage and that is a truth I must accept and get over.”
And Raphael realized Aodhan wanted to help Laric rather than become like him. “We will be in our quarters for an hour, then we’ll head back to the township. It’s apt to be dark by the time we return.”
“I’ll ensure I’m present to provide escort.”
Raphael made a snap decision. “There’s no need. Stay here,” he ordered this member of his Seven who was so very luminous that sometimes, he blinded people to his brutal intelligence. “Listen. Learn.”
“Sire.”
Wings brushing Elena’s as they split with Aodhan and began to head in the direction of their suite, Raphael was surprised to see a Luminata walking toward them who pushed back his hood and beamed at Elena in a most un-Luminata way, something in the openness of his face putting Raphael in mind of the pure innocence of a child.
“I have found it, Consort!” He lifted a rolled-up piece of paper before seeming to collect himself and incline his head respectfully toward Raphael, the pale hue of his eyes bright and the dark brown of his skin flushed. “Archangel.”
“Raphael,” Elena said with a smile, “this is Ibrahim. He promised he’d look for a historical map of Lumia for me.” She touched her hand to the slender male’s forearm in a silent thanks that made Ibrahim’s smile even more incandescent.
“Ibrahim,” Raphael said in greeting. Why a historical map?
Taking the map from Ibrahim, Elena replied to his mental comment the same way. If the Luminata are hiding things, I didn’t think we’d get access to a current map, but we can extrapolate from an older one.
Or, Raphael pointed out, depending on the age of the map, we may see what’s missing or what’s been added.
Elena’s eyes gleamed in appreciation of his point, before she returned her attention to the Luminata who continued to glow with that inner purity so rare among the sect. “Did you find this in the Gallery?”
Ibrahim shook his head. “There is a dusty old room where—” Glancing around, he ducked his head and lowered his voice. “It’s where the archivists in charge of the Gallery stack damaged items or things that are not seen as fit for display.” A wince. “They never tell the artists and I don’t know if that is a kindness, or if it’s because they don’t want to expend time and energy on restoring items they deem inferior.”
How did you win this Luminata’s trust so quickly? It was obvious Ibrahim was struggling with having shared what he had, his expression heavy with guilt, yet he had shared it nonetheless.
Ibrahim’s new, Elena responded, and I get the sense he’s questioning his vocation now that he’s been here a while—he’s sniffed out the corruption but he’s having trouble coming to terms with the fact his heroes have feet of clay. I just gave him an outlet.
“Thank you for searching,” she said to the Luminata, placing her hand on his forearm again for a second—her demeanor appeared almost protective to Raphael. “This map will make it much easier to explore the stronghold. Not that we’ll have long.”
“No?” Ibrahim’s face fell. “You are leaving?”
“Tomorrow, I’m afraid.” She held out her arm, offering it in the grip of warriors.
Ibrahim took her hand between the two of his instead, like a scholar or another of a gentler vocation. “It has been an honor, Consort. I hope you will return to Lumia one day.”
“I hope so, too.” Smile gentle, Elena held the rolled-up map to her side as they left the Luminata to continue the walk to their room.
Placing it on a small decorative table set with a mosaic of semiprecious stones once they were inside, she turned to slide her arms around his waist. He wrapped his wings around her in turn, cocooning them in privacy both because he didn’t trust these walls, and because he liked having his Elena so close.
Sliding his hands up from her waist to her wings, he said, Where does it hurt the worst?
Elena listed the areas with the pragmatic knowledge of a hunter who saw her body as a tool she had to keep in fighting condition. Absorbing the information, he spread his hands over two parts of her wings and reached for the energy inside him that was life. His hands glowed with a slight blue fire that was concealed by his wings.