Page 36 of Archangel’s Lineage

His tough, independent, and possessive lover had refused to surrender her unexpected friendship with Astaad’s favorite concubine, even after the entire harem left Astaad’s home for a small island Qin had signed over to them.

No one could say that Qin had been unkind to the harem; fact was, he couldn’t have them inside his territory. Any member of the Cadre would’ve done the same, for they were a physical reminder of another archangel, and past loyalties.

“My sisters yet mourn,” Mele said, her voice soft. “We watch the horizon for our archangel each day as we wake, and each night before we sleep. He was the center around which we spun, the love which warmed us.” A sad smile. “What do you need of me, Archangel Raphael? I will do all I can.”

“I want only information.” Then he asked her about Minjarra.

“He speaks the truth,” she said at once, her eyes flaring. “I broke the rules that say the intimates of a past archangel shouldn’t interfere in the affairs of the new archangel, but I was so worried for my animals.”

“I’m not here to castigate you,” Raphael reassured her. “The time after the war was chaotic. It would’ve been easy for things to be overlooked.”

“Yes, I worried no one would remember my beasts, and I couldn’t bring them here, for the journey would be arduous, and they wouldn’t thrive in this climate. So I asked Minjarra—a good neighbor and a loyal part of my archangel’s wider court—to care for them for the short term.

“I believed new keepers would be assigned once matters settled down, as did he. They never were, so Minjarra has kept up with the task all this time though it was dangerous for him. Please, do not punish him. The fault is mine.”

The only one at fault, Raphael thought, was Qin. But he couldn’t say that to Mele—for Qin had still been an archangel. “Minjarra isn’t in trouble.” Mele’s testimony confirmed what he’d already believed, which meant he could now put Minjarra where Qin should’ve put him: in a position of trust where he had the public backing of an archangel. “I do, however, need further details on the current situation in this territory. What can you tell me?”

Mele hesitated.

“I know you, Mele,” he said, his voice gentle because this wasn’t his hunter, who could stand toe to toe with him.

Mele’s strength was a quieter thing, but her gifts were no less valuable for that.

It was Elena who’d pointed that out. “You all ignore her like she’s beautiful but dumb arm candy.” A knife playing over and in between her nimble fingers. “You never look, never see that she watches and listens and learns. Mele’s never going to be flashy or in your face—but neither is Aodhan. And he’s one of your most valuable assets. She’s the same for Astaad.”

The comparison with Aodhan had been startling—and accurate. It had also made him pay careful attention to this member of Astaad’s harem, and what he’d learned had only added to his confusion about why Astaad didn’t simply call Mele his consort. It was clear the archangel relied on her for advice, that he discussed matters with her—and that he loved her.

“You would watch over this land for Astaad,” he added. “You wouldn’t be able to help it.”

A sigh, a swallow, before she gave him a concise breakdown.

Toward the end, she said, “I am not a consort, do not have the right to speak so, but Archangel Qin didn’t care for his people. My archangel cared. Archangel Qin did only his duty, no more.”

It was the harshest statement he’d ever heard out of Mele’s mouth.

She continued before he could reply. “But let us end on a happier note. How is Ellie? I have been a bad friend in not accepting her offer to host me and my sisters in New York, but that she cares to love us even in our unending grief... she is a friend I treasure.”

Yes, he thought, his hunter knew how to love—and how to hold her people close. “She holds the fort for me while I deal with the situation here.” It was a deliberate choice not to mention the situation with Jeffrey—Elena would share that when she was ready. “I’ll tell her we spoke.”

“I would appreciate that, Archangel Raphael.” There was a hitch in her voice when she next spoke. “You have my eternal gratitude for looking out for the lands my own beloved archangel so cherished.”

Call ended, Raphael attempted to track down Aegaeon. The older archangel refused to carry a phone, so it took three hours. When they spoke at last, it was on a phone that belonged to the wingleader who’d located the Archangel of the Deep.

“I’m discovering the situation is worse than we were led to believe,” Raphael told the other archangel, having spent the ensuing time checking into multiple other situations. “Atu may well have allowed his loyalty to blind him to harsh reality.”

Loyalty that unquestioning was a negative asset, not a positive. Any being in power needed someone at their side who’d speak the blunt truth. Dmitri had done so with Raphael even when Raphael was at his coldest and worst—his second had called him out, made him confront his arrogance.

“I’m finding the same,” Aegaeon said in what was a mutter for him. “Qin seems to have faded away from active governance two years prior. Astaad’s network of senior vampires and angels have managed to hold things together, but their numbers were cratered by the war and without archangelic assistance...”

“Yes, we have a problem.” The fact of the matter was that there were just fewer strong and trained people to go around.

Lijuan’s megalomania had cost countless lives.

It’d take at least two centuries before the numbers stabilized, as younger angels and vampires turned into seasoned warriors who could help hold a territory. “Do you have anyone who can be seconded from your territory?”

Aegaeon hissed out a breath. “No, but I’ll have to find someone. As will you. If all eight of us do, we can patch up the holes in the interim.”

“What a fucking mess.” He rubbed his forehead, what sympathy he had for Qin having long since drained away.

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