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)
More wings overhead, coming from the other direction, and all at once the manicured green of the lawn was filled to the brim with archangels. Alexander, in formal leathers of a tan that echoed the deserts of his homeland, beside him Zanaya in one of those tiny dresses only Zanaya could pull off.
This one was a deep purple halterneck that shimmered with silver, the colors an echo of the luxurious tumble of her hair. On her feet were silver boots that laced up her calves. And on her back, between the starry night of her wings, rode a ceremonial sword studded with amethysts that was formal wear rather than a weapon.
It was grumpy Galen who’d taught her the difference. “Some weapons are displayed for their beauty and the artisan’s skill. They carry no aggressive intent—you must learn to recognize the difference if you’re to be an asset at Raphael’s side when the Cadre play stupid political games.”
At least she and the weapons-master had the latter opinion in common.
Tonight the weapons were jewelry, not politics. Caliane, too, wore a ceremonial sword in the same position, but had gone for a gown of crisp white with a rippling skirt, a braided gold belt around her waist. She’d pushed her hair off her face using jeweled gold combs, the jewels the same shade of sapphire as the eyes she’d bequeathed her son.
Suyin, in contrast, had chosen formal leathers of deep bronze with detailing in a rich plum shade. The ice-white of her hair was as straight and glossy as glass, but for a single thin braid on one side that she’d woven through with threads of shimmering plum. Her wings were snow-white, her primaries bronze. A bronze bracelet encircled her wrist, the design distinctive. A gift from Aodhan to Suyin to honor the time he’d spent as her second.
Suyin wore it as a silent symbol of her friendship with Raphael.
See, Elena thought, I’m getting good at this reading-between-the-lines stuff.
The gathering glittered with so much power and beauty that it hurt.
It got even worse once they were all inside, such violence of energy hanging in the air that she saw Luz shiver before Montgomery murmured to her, and the other woman took a deep breath, got it together.
The tiny hairs on Elena’s nape rose up at that instant, even as Raphael’s Legion mark blazed. “He’s here,” she said, without needing to look outside to confirm.
“Yes.” Raphael’s wing brushed hers. “I say we let him make his entrance.”
Marduk walked into the room wearing the new set of leathers Montgomery had helped organize to Marduk’s specifications—sleeveless and of a deep green, the clothing threw the beauty of his scales into stark focus.
Conversation stopped.
Elena could all but see Aegaeon struggling to accept that Marduk was an archangel, while Caliane watched him in a way that gave nothing away. Zanaya made no effort to hide her curiosity, was the first one to speak.
“Archangel Marduk,” she said. “I am Zanaya, Queen of the Nile.”
Another stir near the doorway before Marduk could reply, and Lady Sharine walked into the room dressed in an ethereal gown of indigo gold that echoed her feathers.
Marduk turned, looked at her.
Sharine, the Hummingbird, no longer a woman with a fragile mind lost in time, held his gaze with the sparkling champagne of her own. No aggression. But no give, either.
Marduk, who’d shown no deference to absolutely anyone until now, offered a small bow. “I have met you before I ever met you.” That gritted stone voice. “Your essence is ageless and endless.”
Sharine smiled, and in her smile was the agelessness Marduk had seen. “I must paint you. You will sit for me.”
Despite his apparent liking for her, however, Marduk shook his head. “No, my consort would not be pleased. She will already be most annoyed I am awake without her when we made a pact to Sleep together—if I tell her I sat for a painting, she will rain down all the fires of eternity on my head, then haunt my Sleep with furious nightmares. Perhaps if she wakes, we will sit for you together.”
Sharine’s smile grew deeper. “I will hold you to that.”
Elena, meanwhile, found herself looking at Marduk with a new eye. He’d mentioned his consort before, but this time—perhaps because she’d become more used to the deep, grating tones of his voice—she’d heard the love that underlay the words. I’m curious enough about the woman who took Marduk as consort that I’m tempted to poke at Cassandra to see if she’ll tell me, she said to Raphael.
A whispering flutter of wings filled her mind. Not angelic wings. The wings of owls with golden eyes . . . like the one that sat in a large indoor palm in the corner, its feathers as white as snow. Ah, Archangel? Do you see that owl?