Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“Archangels who lose themselves to power madness often do.” His eyes went to where Raphael spoke with Elijah. “I became many things while you were gone, Zani. A father, the most Ancient member of the Cadre for a time, and an angel who almost lost himself to power.”
He nodded over at Raphael. “I all but went to war with Caliane’s beloved son for no reason except that he was young and had ideas of his own and I was somehow insulted by it all.”
“You?” Zanaya’s eyes flared. “You were the wildest of the archangels, the one who thumbed his nose at all the settled members of the Cadre.”
“Yes.” Such an age ago that had been. “It was another young one, our current historian, who made me confront the path I walked.” Echoes of that long-ago conversation in his mind. “Had you not been in Sleep, you would’ve stood against the man I was becoming. You would’ve fought at Raphael’s side.”
Zanaya was yet staring at him. “Did you really come so close to the edge that you would’ve forced me to raise my sword against you, thus breaking my heart forever?”
Alexander’s chest ached at the blunt words. But never had he been a liar. So he said, “Yes. I see it now, looking back. Then, I was in the grip of a conceit that skimmed the edge of the egotistical madness that consumed Lijuan—that she allowed to consume her.”
That was what Alexander could never forgive, and why he felt no sorrow for Lijuan’s death. “She could’ve chosen to Sleep. You will know exactly how viciously hard it was for me to let go of my territories, to leave the world, but I had a moment where I stood on my fort and I thought . . . Zani would be ashamed of me if I do this. And so I Slept.”
Zanaya’s throat moved. “I know little of Lijuan’s history, but I think she didn’t have a friend or lover akin to what you are to me and what I am to you—a being whose opinion matters deeply enough to make us change our course and confront our less-than-humble archangelic natures.”
She touched her fingers to Alexander’s heart. “You are my touchstone, too, my Xander.” A tug of her lips. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that name is taken now. Will you introduce me to young Xander?” The words were followed by a hard shake of her head. “No, not until I know what is happening to me. What has happened to me. I would not inadvertently harm this most vulnerable piece of your heart.”
Closing his hand over hers, he squeezed. “We’ll find the truth, and then we’ll find the solution. I refuse to lose you again.”
39
The lone Sleeper could sense others that were kin to him.
Small pockets.
Hidden.
Secret.
Distant.
But the biggest draw was a pulse that beat hard and strong and called to him. As if he were a dog to come to heel.
Anger boiled his blood.
He was no one’s pet.
And he was far smarter than the one who would humble him, who would turn him into prey.
Lying as motionless as the dead, no air in his lungs, he smiled and his face cracked, a small frozen piece falling away.
40
Zanaya’s mouth was dry and her heart a drum as they hit the edge of the “no-fly zone” around Antonicus’s grave. It had been one of the younger angels she’d met in Titus’s lands who’d first used that term, explaining to her that it had been created once mortals began taking to the air in their metal machines.
Zanaya liked it. It was direct and to the point.
Today, tired but with her nerves afire, she and Alexander skimmed icy waters choppy from the wind, their caps white, and shards of ice floating on the surface. In acknowledgement of the fact it would get colder and colder from this point on, she’d pulled on a pair of leathers in black.
Her entire current wardrobe was a gift from Alexander. He’d had multiple sets of clothing created for her in preparation for the day she woke—though he’d had no comprehension of when that might be.
He could be so tender, her general sinewy and harsh.
Her top had no sleeves and closed up the front using an invention called a “zipper” that was a sharp strike of silver against the midnight of the leather, but she’d decided to wear a garment called a “thermal” underneath the leather. Long sleeved, it was decidedly warm and covered her arms.
She treasured the clothing, for it was a symbol of Alexander’s care for her, but she did miss her favorite worn-in leathers. However, there was a limit to how long anyone stored a Sleeper’s belongings. To the credit of those who’d come into her territory after her, they had left her stored items in place—and then an earthquake had collapsed the site, along with her long-turned-to-dust clothing.