Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
There was no hope of a reprieve.
The song inside her head hovered a breath from a true crescendo as dawn began to light up the angelic homeland, the leading edge afire while the rest remained in shadow. Swallowing hard, she flew on—and wasn’t the least surprised at her flight path.
The Medica and the Library both lie on this path, Raphael said inside her mind, putting her fear into words.
When she glanced at him, it was to see a face of wild, dangerous beauty set in austere lines. There were only ever three choices.
Jessamy, their teacher and Librarian. She might love one of Raphael’s Seven, but no one in angelkind had ever even intimated that she wasn’t neutral when it came to providing and recording information in her duties as the Librarian. She had assisted each of the archangels in the current Cadre at some point in time—and she had held their confidences.
Keir, angelkind’s senior healer. At a few hundred past three millennia in age, he wasn’t old in the grand scheme of immortal life, but he had a wisdom to him that was timeless, ageless. He also didn’t discriminate when it came to treating those who were hurt or wounded. In a war, Keir would treat all combatants with equal care. He had done so in the war past, patching up any number of Lijuan’s people.
Elena’s third choice had been Andromeda, Jessamy’s second in command. But Andi had been an outlier for the simple reason that she was much younger and therefore not taken as seriously by the Cadre.
She’d also learned en route that Andi wasn’t currently in the Refuge; she’d gone to join the children nearly a week ago, taking charge of their education in this evacuation that had gone on far longer than anyone had predicted.
Jessamy and Keir.
It had to be one of them.
Her friends.
Inhaling a sobbing breath, she wished she could stop hearing this horrible music that was leading her to bring certain pain—and likely death—to one of the two most incredible people in the angelic race. Caught up in the horror of it, she wasn’t ready for the crescendo to hit a shrill high note that stopped her in her tracks.
She looked down.
The low white buildings of the Medica glowed in the early morning light, its new skylight still covered by the night’s dew. So high up, it took her a moment to spot him. Keir, his wings held tight to his back as he raised a hand in a wave just outside the building. It’s Keir, she said to Raphael, then dropped as fast as possible to land in front of the healer.
She made it before any of the others. “I’m so sorry, Keir.” Words that didn’t make anything better, but that she had to say.
Keir’s full lips curved in a wise smile, the gentle brown of his eyes tired. “Ah, Ellie. You bring the Cadre to my door.” A glance up to take in all the wings bearing down to land. “Will whatever this is stop the world from breaking?”
It didn’t startle her in the least that he’d understood without any explanation; she didn’t know if angels believed in reincarnation, but she’d always had the feeling that Keir was far more ancient than his immortal age. As if he’d lived an entire eons-long life, then been reborn into this youthful body with features delicate and wings of golden brown.
“Marduk says it will.”
Gusts of wind around her, wings closing in snaps of sound, a churning maelstrom of power so vivid that it was a pulse against her body.
Keir greeted the Cadre with a mild incline of his head, his status as the senior healer of angelkind putting him on equal footing with them when it came to angelic etiquette. “It appears you have need of me.”
Raphael was the one who stepped forward, the blue-black of his hair tumbled by the wind and his wings kissed orange by the sun. “You, Keir,” he said, his voice thick with emotion writ large on his face, “are to be the world’s shield against obliteration.” He recapped the situation in under a minute, all of them conscious of the rapidly failing Mantle.
Keir stood in silence for less than five seconds in the aftermath. “I am a healer,” he said when he spoke. “It makes the purest sense that this duty should fall on me.” His smile was calm. “If the world itself is sick and I can heal it, then let us do it this very moment.”
Shrugging off his robe to reveal a sleeveless tunic belted at the waist with a fabric belt that bore intricate embroidery, and matching brown pants, he went to drop the robe to the side, but Elena stepped forward to take it.
His fingers brushed hers, the energy in them a warmth she’d felt from no other angel—not even Raphael would compare his own Cascade-born healing gift to Keir’s.