Caliane’s smile was joyous. “I would love nothing better, my son.” Despite her words, her look was careful . . . even a little hesitant. “Are you certain?”
Elena didn’t understand the question until Raphael said, “With the Cadre, I must always be an archangel first, your son second.” His words were hard and political, his tone gentle for the mother who wore her love for her son so openly. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot occasionally remind the others that we are the only bloodline with two places in the circle.”
Slipping her hand around Raphael’s forearm with a dawning smile, Caliane inclined her head to Elena. Then the two archangels moved on into the meeting chamber located off the Atrium, their wings overlapping—and though Caliane was the Ancient, it was Raphael’s wing that was protectively on top.
They didn’t stop at the breakfast table. Raphael had already told Elena the Cadre would breakfast later, angels of their strength not needing to eat as often.
Even as his wings disappeared from view behind the heavy metal doors of the inner chamber, the sea crashed into her mind. Off your feet, Elena. As soon as possible. A pause. It is considered an honor to hear Caliane’s true voice.
I don’t think I’m strong enough for it.
You will be. Absolute confidence in her archangel’s tone. Now go. I’ve warned Aodhan of the necessity for speed.
Elena turned to leave the Atrium, Aodhan by her side—and found Tasha in her path. “Elena,” the other woman said with a big smile. “It is good to see you again. Shall we breakfast together?”
Elena thought of how Tasha had fought for New York and held out her arm in the greeting of warriors. Tasha gripped it as Elena’s hand closed over her own forearm. And since Elena had a building sense of urgency in her brain, her knees warning her they were about to buckle, she decided to be upfront. “We’re never going to be friends, Tasha, but I respect you. I hope you’re well.”
Tasha’s smile turned into laughter, the green of her eyes sparkling. “Ah, Elena. You make it difficult to dislike you. Perhaps we will spar while we are here?”
“Let’s not get carried away. I’m not sure I’d trust either one of us in a ring.” Shifting a foot to the side as Tasha laughed again, she said, “Sorry to shake and run but I’ve got a prior engagement.”
“Of course.”
“You know,” Elena said to Aodhan as they walked down the hallway, “it’d be much easier to dislike her if she wasn’t strong and courageous and honorable.” Elena knew Tasha would die to protect Caliane.
Aodhan’s response was unexpected. “She still watches Raphael with the eyes of a lover. Does that make it easier?”
“Yes.” Elena bared her teeth. “It definitely does. Thanks.”
“You are welcome.” He unexpectedly touched her shoulder. “Go right, then left.”
Clenching her jaw to keep herself upright, Elena followed his instructions almost on autopilot as the crescendo howled in the back of her head. Natural light hit her eyes after the second turn, made her blink rapidly to adapt, the two of them in an external corridor that looked out onto a courtyard.
“There.” Aodhan nodded at a “window” that offered a view into the courtyard; there was no glass in it, the curved arch carved out of the stone. Beyond the archway, a couple of Luminata practiced some type of slow martial art on the stone pavings of the courtyard, their movements compelling.
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.