Illium’s eyes had gotten round. He knew that was little angel food. He still liked it, but Raphael was an archangel. But Raphael was never mean to Illium’s mother. Not ever. Not even when she did things that weren’t quite right. Today, he’d drunk the milk, and eaten the cookies before he took Illium out for the training session.
Once, when Illium had said thank you to Raphael for being so nice to Illium’s mother, Raphael had stopped walking and crouched down so they were eye to eye. It stopped Illium’s breath to be that close to Raphael—his eyes were like blue fire and Illium could feel a pressure against his skin, like he could in the air right before a storm.
That day, Raphael had said, “You need never say such to me, Illium.” He’d cupped one side of Illium’s head, his fingers brushing Illium’s hair. “Lady Sharine has every claim on my loyalty, love, and care. She was a mother to me when I needed one most. Whenever she calls, I will come.”
Illium hadn’t understood all of the emotion in Raphael’s voice or face, but he’d understood that his mother had a history with the archangel. Maybe one day, he’d be old enough that they’d tell him about it. It was annoying being a little angel—but at least he wasn’t any longer considered a baby.
“Ugh,” he said as he struggled up the steep climb. He could’ve flown home, but Raphael always said that he couldn’t only be strong in the air—to be a truly well-rounded warrior, he had to be strong on the ground, too. Because otherwise, what would he do if his wings got wounded in battle and he fell to the earth?
Illium had no plans of being useless if he ended up groundbound. So he made it a point to walk as much as he flew. Sometimes, when the ground wasn’t this uneven, with craggy edges and sharp rocks, he even ran. But today, Raphael had made him do a hard training, and the ground was all broken up, so he was huffed by the time he made it to the top of the incline.
When a burst of light landed beside him, he bent down with his hands on his knees, his sword strapped safely to his back, and gasped. “Sorry. Training.”
Aodhan didn’t say anything, standing in quiet next to Illium until Illium could breathe properly again. He could see half of Aodhan’s legs and part of Aodhan’s wings from his bent-over position. His friend was wearing brown sandals, and his favorite old pants that had started out white but were now kind of a dull light brown, with small rips in them. His wings glittered like the stones in Lady Ariha’s necklace.
Light shattered off Aodhan, was drawn to him.
Though Illium was used to it, it was still kind of difficult to look at him in the bright sunshine. Playfully pushing his friend into the shade of a nearby tree when he could stand straight again, he said, “I think I see stars.”
It was an old joke between them, from a time when Illium had fallen and hit his head and thought he was seeing stars when really, it was just Aodhan leaning over him with the sun sparking off his hair.
The two of them found it hilarious.
But today, Aodhan didn’t laugh. His face was still and tight. Illium immediately stopped joking around. “What happened?”
Aodhan kicked at a piece of rock. “Can we go flying?”
Illium had intended to walk all the way home, but he said, “Where do you want to go?”
When Aodhan just shrugged, Illium said, “I know where we can fly.” There was a place his mother had shown him—a mountain field with lots of flowers and butterflies. Aodhan loved butterflies, even though he liked to pretend he didn’t. Illium didn’t tease him about it; teasing was for stuff that wasn’t important. Butterflies were important to Aodhan in some way.
They took off soon after. Illium couldn’t do vertical takeoffs yet, but they were at a high point near the gorge. So he walked to the edge of the massive split in the earth, and took off from there, sweeping down on the air currents, then rising up into the clear blue of the sky. The two of them still didn’t have permission to gorge dive, but this—using the lift created by the air cradled in the gorge—was allowed.
Illium didn’t complain when Aodhan flew much higher. Aodhan liked doing that because he attracted too much attention when he flew closer to the ground. Littles their age weren’t usually allowed at such high elevations, but Aodhan had been given special permission after Illium’s mother went and talked to the other adults.
Now, Aodhan was a spark in the sky.
“He is a little sun,” Mama had said one day, her voice dreamy as she looked up at the sky where Aodhan flew. “So bright and open and full of an inner light that I worry will be bruised by the world.”
Her fingers in Illium’s hair. “I worry about both of you, my two bright sparks.”
Today, Aodhan followed Illium until they reached the field of flowers and butterflies. Then he came straight down to land on his feet. He wasn’t anywhere near as fast as Illium, but he was much faster than other children around their age.
A huge butterfly of jewel green settled immediately on his shoulder. It fluttered up when Aodhan slumped into a seated position on the field, then settled again. Other, smaller butterflies found spots on Aodhan’s wings, his hair, even his legs. Each time he moved, the air shimmered with color.
Illium’s mother had painted Aodhan covered with butterflies and even though Aodhan had gone a funny color at seeing it, he kept the painting in his bedroom. He wouldn’t even give it to his own mama, even though she’d pressed both hands to her cheeks and asked with shining eyes.
Sitting down beside his best friend, Illium pulled off his practice sword. It might be stubby and made of wood, but he loved it because Raphael had given it to him once he decided Illium was old enough for sword training. When it broke—because all practice swords broke after a while—Illium was going to save a piece and see if his mother’s friend who carved things could carve him a tiny sword out of it, for Illium to put in his box of keep-things.
He put down the sword with care, then fell back in the grass so he was looking up at the sky, with the flowers waving alongside him, and Aodhan’s bright presence to the left. Then he waited. Trying to make Aodhan talk when he didn’t want to talk was stupid. All it got anyone was a tired voice.
Aodhan’s mama and papa didn’t seem to understand that. They were nice, but they thought Aodhan was like his sister Imalia, who was already a grown-up. If they’d been his parents, Illium would’ve been mad at them for not knowing him, but Aodhan never got mad. He just said, “Eh-ma knows me. You know me. Teacher knows me. I don’t need a lot of people to know me.”
So because Illium knew him, he closed his eyes against the sunlight and began to talk about his training, including the new moves Raphael had taught him. “I’ll teach you,” he promised his friend. Aodhan was good at physical things, but he only did them because Illium did, so they could play battle games together.