Page 37 of Archangel’s Lineage

“What about my son?” Aegaeon demanded. “When will he ascend?”

Raphael didn’t talk about Illium to Aegaeon. So he left it at, “You know there is no answer to that.” Had Raphael his own way, Illium wouldn’t ascend for at least another millennium.

Raphael had ascended at a thousand years of age and he’d barely survived the cataclysmic forces of it. He wouldn’t wish that for the young angel. And Illium wasn’t ready, even if the world needed him to be ready.

An early ascension would destroy their bright, beautiful Bluebell.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow after I’ve met the most powerful angels and vampires in this part of the territory,” he said to Aegaeon.

“I will do the same.”

They hung up.

Raphael already knew who he’d second here: Andreas. He’d intended for the warrior angel to take over one of his own cities that had lost its ruling angel, but that part of his land was surrounded by multiple other cities with strong hands at the helm. It’d survive without its own senior lead. Andreas was also the kind of angel this territory needed: intelligent, calm, and not afraid to be hard when needed.

Elena had always thought Andreas’s harsh hand a cruelty, but even his hunter had come to understand that for some immortal crimes, cruel punishment was the only kind that left a mark. The promise of eternal life made many immortals and almost-immortals jaded to the point of not caring about pain, imprisonment, or other “normal” rebukes.

Raphael took no pleasure in being cruel—and crucially, neither did Andreas. The warrior wasn’t one to find gratification in such actions. To him, they were simply a tool.

Raphael could trust him in this land wounded by neglect.

23

Interlude

Bloodborn

“Bloodborn? You are certain?”

“Yes. Uram is no longer an archangel but a creature out of our worst nightmares.”

“No, I do not believe it. I must see for myself.”

“There are images... from his palace. Of bodies defleshed and organs displayed. And worse.”

“This should not be.”

“Yet it is. Now, we must come to a decision about what to do about it.”

24

Elena walked into the ICU four days after her return home, her mind tense with the news of another major quake at the Refuge. No more buildings down, no further casualties, but the instability was close to constant at this point, with the earth trembling more often than not.

She’d also spoken to her archangel, and the news he had was only slightly better.

“The Cadre has agreed to second a number of their own people to Qin’s territory to hold it together in the interim,” he’d told her, his face drawn and the midnight of his hair tumbled from the winds through which he’d flown. She’d wanted only to hold him, give him a place to rest, a person with whom he could lower his shields.

“In the meantime we’ll redraw the territorial boundaries. But with the Mantle failing, the latter can’t be our priority. Andreas and the others will be tasked with squelching any unrest while we deal with the far bigger issue at hand.”

She hadn’t been surprised at his choice of Andreas for the position. A soft hand wouldn’t do, not with a territory already that unstable. But knowing Andreas’s way of handling matters, she’d asked the question any consort in her position would’ve asked. “Do you think he might come in too hard, risk a revolt?”

“You’ve never seen Andreas lead, Elena-mine. He is very, very good. Never harsh for the sake of it and never wasteful of his people. His wing respects and likes him, as do any others who’ve worked with him. Even you like him.” A smile in the last words.

“Hmm,” she’d said, her feelings toward Andreas still complicated—she could understand his way of dealing with issues, but not necessarily agree with them. “You know him better than I ever could, Archangel.” Their acquaintance was measured in centuries, hers in years. “If you think he’s right for the job, then he’s right for the job.”

She’d looked at that face of astonishing masculine beauty, taken in the faint hollows that had begun to develop in his cheeks. “And you, my Rafe?” she’d said, using the nickname of his youth as a kiss of affection between consorts. “You look tired. Are you resting at all?”

“That should be my question, hbeebti.” Those eyes so blue as to defy the laws of nature had searched her face. “How is your father?”

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