Archangel's Enigma
Page 54
“Naasir is not with you?” No cool mask now, Avi’s concern darkening his gaze.
“He’s coming overland.” Andromeda’s fingers curled into her hand, her worry for Naasir a constant echo at the back of her mind. “It made more sense for me to fly.”
A small nod and the angel led her into the city after somehow causing the shield to part. Or perhaps it was his archangel who had parted the shield for him. “Suyin?” she asked.
“In anshara,” Avi told her shortly.
Andromeda refused to be brushed off like a child. “She will be all right?” she asked, unable to forget the agonizing sorrow that marked Suyin’s gaze.
Turning to pin her with those penetrating green eyes, Avi took his time to reply, but when he did, his tone was gentler. “Keir says it is the best thing for her. Her physical wounds will heal, and when she wakes, she’ll do so in a city where she was often a treasured guest before her imprisonment.” An unexpected touch on Andromeda’s hair, as a father might do to a child. “Have no fear, young one, Suyin has friends here who will protect her and help her heal wounds not so visible.”
Throat thick, Andromeda nodded. Dropping his hand from her hair, Avi led her deeper into Amanat. It took her a minute to get her emotions under enough control to see clearly, and then, she had to fight not to gawp like a fledgling.
To a historian, Amanat was a fever dream taken vivid form.
With each one of her steps, she walked in history itself. The architecture, the ethereal carvings on the stone of the walls that made up the buildings, the mineral-veined cobblestones of the path on which she and Avi walked, the window gardens that spilled blooms in every direction, they all fought to capture her attention, but she focused first on the people who had Slept so long beside their archangel.
They were clothed in bright flowing gowns when it came to the non-warrior females, and embroidered tunics and pants for the non-warrior males. A rare few of the men wore flowing kaftan-like robes. In contrast, as with Avi, the warriors were dressed much the same as warriors anywhere in the world. They also had the same grim-eyed and alert appearance.
All in all, not so different from the men and women of Lijuan’s court. Only here, no one avoided her gaze, and instead of glimpsing shivering fear on their faces, she heard laughter drifting through the streets, was gifted with smiles by those who weren’t warriors, and curt nods of welcome by those who were.
And this in the home of an archangel once judged insane, an archangel who had sung the entire adult populations of two thriving cities into the sea. Bloated corpses had littered the beach in the aftermath, pecked at by birds, and found by motherless and fatherless children who’d been so traumatized by the horror that they’d curled up and died “of such sorrow as immortals will never know.”
Keir’s words, as recorded for the Histories by an equally heartbroken Jessamy.
Was it possible Lijuan, too, could one day become a better version of herself? Andromeda bit her lower lip, unable to see that future. Caliane had Slept away her madness while Lijuan was intent on feeding it on the lifeforce of her people.
“Scholar.”
Pulled from the disturbing tenor of her thoughts, she saw they’d stopped in front of an archway.
“Isabel is within,” Avi said. “I’ll leave you to speak with her.”
“Thank you.” Walking through the archway, Andromeda found herself in a tree-shaded but still light-filled courtyard surrounded by dual-level homes and empty but for an angel going through a martial arts kata. The angel was tall and muscular in a toned, fluid way, her black hair pulled back into a neat braid and her wings white with a splash of delicate green at the primaries.
Instead of warrior leathers, she wore black jeans with boots of the same shade, her white top loose and long-sleeved, cuffed at the wrists. None of that altered the fact that she was a trained and dangerous fighter who moved with an economy of motion that told Andromeda Isabel wouldn’t be flashy in a fight, but she’d be effective.
Despite her tiredness, Andromeda stayed back, loathe to interrupt; she knew how much it meant to find peace in such a quiet pattern of movement. Isabel was setting herself up for the day and to interrupt would be to shatter her center.
Andromeda found a measure of peace in simply watching the other woman.
Completing her kata several minutes later, Isabel took a moment of silence before looking up. Her smile was quiet but deep, her eyes a brown darker than the darkest chocolate, and her skin a tawny gold. Handsome rather than beautiful, Isabel had a regal confidence to her that said she could command armies and courts without breaking her stride.
“You must be Naasir’s Andi.”
Andromeda blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” Not her identity, but Naasir’s pet name for her.
“Naasir borrowed a satellite phone from the captain of the barge after you left.” Isabel’s smile grew deeper. “It doesn’t come naturally to him, but he’s learned all about technology from Illium.”
“He’s smarter than most scholars.” Andromeda tried not to sound too proud and possessive, wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off when Isabel’s eyes crinkled as if she was holding back laughter. “More perceptive, too,” she added, unable to help herself.
Isabel’s agreement was obvious.
“And yes,” Andromeda said, “I’m Andi.” She could be that woman here, that young and happily reckless scholar who had adventures with a wild, wonderful man who bore secret tiger stripes under his skin. “Has Naasir been in touch since then?” The knot in her stomach wouldn’t dissolve until she could see him, touch him, draw in his scent.
“He’s coming overland.” Andromeda’s fingers curled into her hand, her worry for Naasir a constant echo at the back of her mind. “It made more sense for me to fly.”
A small nod and the angel led her into the city after somehow causing the shield to part. Or perhaps it was his archangel who had parted the shield for him. “Suyin?” she asked.
“In anshara,” Avi told her shortly.
Andromeda refused to be brushed off like a child. “She will be all right?” she asked, unable to forget the agonizing sorrow that marked Suyin’s gaze.
Turning to pin her with those penetrating green eyes, Avi took his time to reply, but when he did, his tone was gentler. “Keir says it is the best thing for her. Her physical wounds will heal, and when she wakes, she’ll do so in a city where she was often a treasured guest before her imprisonment.” An unexpected touch on Andromeda’s hair, as a father might do to a child. “Have no fear, young one, Suyin has friends here who will protect her and help her heal wounds not so visible.”
Throat thick, Andromeda nodded. Dropping his hand from her hair, Avi led her deeper into Amanat. It took her a minute to get her emotions under enough control to see clearly, and then, she had to fight not to gawp like a fledgling.
To a historian, Amanat was a fever dream taken vivid form.
With each one of her steps, she walked in history itself. The architecture, the ethereal carvings on the stone of the walls that made up the buildings, the mineral-veined cobblestones of the path on which she and Avi walked, the window gardens that spilled blooms in every direction, they all fought to capture her attention, but she focused first on the people who had Slept so long beside their archangel.
They were clothed in bright flowing gowns when it came to the non-warrior females, and embroidered tunics and pants for the non-warrior males. A rare few of the men wore flowing kaftan-like robes. In contrast, as with Avi, the warriors were dressed much the same as warriors anywhere in the world. They also had the same grim-eyed and alert appearance.
All in all, not so different from the men and women of Lijuan’s court. Only here, no one avoided her gaze, and instead of glimpsing shivering fear on their faces, she heard laughter drifting through the streets, was gifted with smiles by those who weren’t warriors, and curt nods of welcome by those who were.
And this in the home of an archangel once judged insane, an archangel who had sung the entire adult populations of two thriving cities into the sea. Bloated corpses had littered the beach in the aftermath, pecked at by birds, and found by motherless and fatherless children who’d been so traumatized by the horror that they’d curled up and died “of such sorrow as immortals will never know.”
Keir’s words, as recorded for the Histories by an equally heartbroken Jessamy.
Was it possible Lijuan, too, could one day become a better version of herself? Andromeda bit her lower lip, unable to see that future. Caliane had Slept away her madness while Lijuan was intent on feeding it on the lifeforce of her people.
“Scholar.”
Pulled from the disturbing tenor of her thoughts, she saw they’d stopped in front of an archway.
“Isabel is within,” Avi said. “I’ll leave you to speak with her.”
“Thank you.” Walking through the archway, Andromeda found herself in a tree-shaded but still light-filled courtyard surrounded by dual-level homes and empty but for an angel going through a martial arts kata. The angel was tall and muscular in a toned, fluid way, her black hair pulled back into a neat braid and her wings white with a splash of delicate green at the primaries.
Instead of warrior leathers, she wore black jeans with boots of the same shade, her white top loose and long-sleeved, cuffed at the wrists. None of that altered the fact that she was a trained and dangerous fighter who moved with an economy of motion that told Andromeda Isabel wouldn’t be flashy in a fight, but she’d be effective.
Despite her tiredness, Andromeda stayed back, loathe to interrupt; she knew how much it meant to find peace in such a quiet pattern of movement. Isabel was setting herself up for the day and to interrupt would be to shatter her center.
Andromeda found a measure of peace in simply watching the other woman.
Completing her kata several minutes later, Isabel took a moment of silence before looking up. Her smile was quiet but deep, her eyes a brown darker than the darkest chocolate, and her skin a tawny gold. Handsome rather than beautiful, Isabel had a regal confidence to her that said she could command armies and courts without breaking her stride.
“You must be Naasir’s Andi.”
Andromeda blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” Not her identity, but Naasir’s pet name for her.
“Naasir borrowed a satellite phone from the captain of the barge after you left.” Isabel’s smile grew deeper. “It doesn’t come naturally to him, but he’s learned all about technology from Illium.”
“He’s smarter than most scholars.” Andromeda tried not to sound too proud and possessive, wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off when Isabel’s eyes crinkled as if she was holding back laughter. “More perceptive, too,” she added, unable to help herself.
Isabel’s agreement was obvious.
“And yes,” Andromeda said, “I’m Andi.” She could be that woman here, that young and happily reckless scholar who had adventures with a wild, wonderful man who bore secret tiger stripes under his skin. “Has Naasir been in touch since then?” The knot in her stomach wouldn’t dissolve until she could see him, touch him, draw in his scent.
