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.
Sighing as the energy sank into her, Elena rested her head against his chest, shifting until she was right over his heartbeat, as if listening to it. “Even though it frustrates me that we have to leave tomorrow, I’m glad, too. I really don’t like this place,” she murmured in a tone that was soft, private. “I can’t point to any one thing as the reason why, but—”
“I feel it, too.” While the warmth of her against him settled his protective urges, his skin continued to prickle with an awareness of subtle wrongness. “I spoke to my mother as we were flying back. She says in the past, the Luminata had vampiric border guards as well. The complement was never only angelic.”
“The change fits with what we were talking about earlier, doesn’t it.” Elena kept her head against his chest as he moved his hands to different parts of her wings, easing the strain and healing muscles that might’ve sustained microtears. “Only . . . vampires given that position would be pretty solid, not the type to go nuts even if they figured out the Luminata were ruling their own little mortal colony.”
It was an excellent point.
Then she made another one. “Maybe it’s because while angels seem to revere the Luminata enough that even the Cadre’s left them alone for a long time, vampires would be more clear-eyed.”
“Especially,” Raphael murmured, “vampires of the age to be stationed here. It’s far too sleepy a region to send experienced warriors—they’d consider it a punishment. I know Galen tended to send no one over two hundred and fifty.”
“It’s a place to get a little seasoning, then move on.” Elena nodded. “Vamps like that probably wouldn’t see the Luminata as anything but a bunch of angelic monks. No reverence, no looking the other way.” She began to play her fingers up the inner surfaces of his wings, the caress an intimate one between consorts. “I feel back to normal wing-wise.”
“Good.” Giving her one last pulse of healing energy, he bent his head.
She lifted hers as if he’d spoken, the kiss they shared a soft brush that was about connection, about being one in this place filled with outsiders, not all of whom wished them well. Raphael wanted to do so much more with his consort, but time was their enemy today. “I do not like abstinence,” he said against her lips.
Laughter in her eyes. “Great minds.” She ran her hands down his chest, his leathers soft under her touch. “We’ll make up for it when we’re back home.”
The dark gold of her skin pulled taut over her cheekbones, her laughter erased between one pulse and the next. “I don’t want you to go to China.”
“I must.”
“I know. Doesn’t make me any happier. The entire thing could be a giant trap.”
“It’s possible—but I don’t think even Lijuan is delusional enough to take on two Ancients at once, forget about the rest of the Cadre.”
“Since Her Creepiness thinks she’s a goddess, that fact lowers my worry levels by point one percent at most.” She touched her fingers to the Legion mark on his temple, and where her fingers brushed, wildfire sparked, as if drawn to her. “Shall we look at the map when we’re away from here? I can carry it easily in the same sheath as my crossbow bolts.”